Chapter Six: Ozymandias
Even as Marla read the words out loud she could only watch the man's vacant expression. He was balding now, staring out the window blankly. Her eyes would guide down his face not looking at the poetry book in her hands. She knew the poem by heart. His eyes were deep blue with an almost whitest tint to them to show his age and his faltering sanity.
His beard was grainy is spots around his chin and his mustache was curled across his cheeks. His hair curled a much darker red then hers around his head however his hairline had greatly receded. His fingers were in his mouth as his strong teeth crunched on his fingernails. Slowly she noted the hospital gown and the soft shoes on his feet. Freckles took over his pale arms that sprouted matching red hairs. Her voice quivered at the last couple lines as she shifted in her chair. She wanted to touch his knee to reassure him or get him to look at her, but she was afraid she would frighten him. Instead she shut the book ending it there. His eyes only shifted slightly.
"Do you remember it?" She wondered aloud running her hand over the rare piece in her hand. A book with pages was not usually found in their time. "You used to read it to me a lot. It used to be your favorite." She waited for the reaction.
"Still is." His voice was clear and calm though he did not look at her.
"I thought it'd be nice for your birthday, Dad." Marla was weary of speaking to her father especially given her situation. The last time for had seen him had been when she had arrived at the mental institution to tell him her mother had died. She hadn't known then that she was dying officially though it was quite obvious that was happening. Today she sought advice and offered him celebration for surviving the hell he lived in for another year.
"Years go by, but the world remains broken." He looked at her then twisting his body abruptly. "Does it break? Does the world break every time you take a step, baby?" She wished he was better, but her father had never been right. She just had never known what was to be acceptable in the world. She always saw her father's odd ways as quirks, not as dangerous paranoia that they became known to be.
"Sometimes, but I'm already broken." She shook her head tucking the book back into her gold colored purse. "The world be damned." She had been mulling since yesterday over her decision of what to ask Harrison for. A cure or a life taken.
"You live in the world." He clarified to his daughter He shifted closer readily accepting that he had the young woman's attention. "You make it your best."
"Not for long." Marla nearly whispered the words before finding herself snapping her eyes to her father. She looked around for a moment. Nurses were preoccupied with other things in the open family visiting room. "I'm in between thoughts here. I'm unsure if I should ask for my health or if I want to allow this world to be broken while I die."
She watched her father's reaction of contemplation. He looked serious in thought at her crazy words. Marla knew often enough that when she talked to her father she had to speak his language. He needed to understand her on his level. Marla watched her father scratch his beard. She noted how he had some white hairs between the reds.
"To die in this world would be a sin if it can change for the better." He confirmed nodding his head. She shifted her shoulders lightly ashamed to speak at the next turn.
"I'm working at the Kelvin Memorial Archives." Marla confirmed with a soft whisper. She half expected her controversy heavy government hatting father to roam into a rant of how she was not his daughter working for Starfleet again. The last time she had been there she had promised to quit the organization. Instead the man let yellow teeth shine.
"Continuing what I had tried." She wasn't sure why he said it, but he shifted a bulky ring off his finger. He held it out to her willingly. "Here," He shook the ring at her with a smile. "For your troubles. Nail those bastards." She took it gingerly examining it in her hands.
"It's your birthday." Marla stated instantly. "You shouldn't be gifting me."
"My gift can be your gift." He closed her hand around the ring. "You can do what I didn't get a chance to." Everything had been blurry around the imprisonment of her father. Her family had scattered apart during that time fifteen years ago.
Marla had only been fifteen when her mother had pulled her out of school. Ellen didn't have the courage to tell her daughter what exactly had happened with her husband, but only briefly mentioned he was in trouble and very troubled. Her father had been working at the archives for nearly ten years when the incident that seemed very secretive and hushed happened. It took Marla a while and some probing from relatives to finally discover what had happened. Her father had threatened Starfleet and supposedly had a bomb on him ready to blow up the archives.
He had been detained that day and eventually evaluated. It was determined that Martin McGivers suffered from mental illness. The diagnosis should have been picked up in medical screenings however someone had failed to identify the disorder along the lines. As no bombs were found on the man there was little proof that the man intended to attack other than hear say. Her mother had held her head high attempting to assist in her husband's living. However life proved difficult as Martin McGivers refused medication claiming it was 'beyond his natural body to take such things'. A notion Marla had fostered in her mind for years.
It took her mother a few years and some very strong incidents to finally allow herself to put her husband into the custody of people who would be forced to watch him. Despite putting him away Ellen McGivers remained married to the legally insane man until her death. She still loved him. Marla understood her mother's choices. Her brother had not. He eventually cut ties from his family unable to understand as a doctor the inability to help others. Marla was left tying the strings from mother to son whenever her older brother would visit her father. She hated being caught in the middle of things.
Yet here she was again caught in the middle of Marcus and Harrison's games.
She had to make her move soon if she was not to be devoured by either of them.
"I love you, Dad." She stood up breathing in for a moment. Her turtleneck was crushing her neck, but her skin was brutal in the cold. She kissed his dotted forehead with dry lips. She looked him over again trying not to imagine that this may be the last time she saw him. "I love you." She repeated it debating her decisions between death and life in her mind. He looked at her with deep eyes with a strong serious expression in them.
"Life is not worth the price of admission unless you play it right. Feel your decisions." She could handle those as the last words he would speak to her. She knew right then as she left her father what she had to do.
She was still carrying the book when she entered the archives however they told Marla she was not authorized to bring anything in with her. Security seemed to have buckled since the day before. She aimlessly wondered why that was, but found out through whispers that inspections on the building's safety were coming up. The lower secretive Section 31 would not be looked over. They wanted to make sure of that. Despite her book being gone from she still had a sliver of the paper hidden on her.
The paper that hid her request to Harrison.
Marla was not afraid of what Harrison would do once he obtained the request. The pounding in her heart was more of a fear of getting caught. She twisted her father's adjusted ring around her finger as she walked in. The room was nearly empty of weapons. She was a little taken a back. Harrison was at his spot outlining ideas and designs.
"Did he decide to limit our work?" She wondered examining the only rifle on the table. It seemed to be fairly stable. Only a few things needed to be tinkered with.
"Reworking their goals." Harrison admitted. "From what I understand they plan to mass produce your canon." The word sounded wrong on his tongue.
"It's not my work." She found herself facing away from him examining one of the few things she could work on. "It was your people who sought to weaponize it so perfectly."
"Are you frightened they will dispose of you soon, Lieutenant?" His question let her body breath. She was glad he could observe so well, however she was attempting on debating how to let Harrison come to her close enough to take the note from her.
"Death will come to me either way, Commander." She cleared her throat lightly trying to see if that would do it. She only heard the flipping of pages. "If Marcus should take my life in his hands I will welcome the challenge." There was no way she would not fight hard for her life if Marcus was to make an attempt on her.
"They watch you." He stated rather ominously. It caused Marla's head to turn. She was surprised to see him looking almost sadly to her. "An admiral makes sure his players are in position. Loyal. Willing." In that moment she thought of her father's words.
Marla McGivers had to play her game right. She had to play Harrison right. Bring him in. Allow him to feel close to her enough to slip the paper into his hand. She nodded to him before slowly turning. She began to adjust the bolts on the rifle musing over her thoughts. She thought about Kali and the few who had escaped the facility. She thought about the tyrant who had made his mark on the world. The tyrant whose name was exotic. The man, whose tyranny was extraordinary, had found himself obsessed with literature from times long passed. While Marla knew little work from ancient pass she knew enough to appear intelligent. Her mother had been an avid reader and her father had fancied poetry.
The man she thought of and long suspected Harrison of being was known to recite lines from literature during his reign. She could recall him citing Moby Dick as inspiration for going against mankind. Marla could have thought of any piece of work in her mind, but the words of the poem she had read her father this morning slipped out too easily.
"I met a traveler from an antique land." The words seemed too quiet and easy. Her fingers massaged the weapon. "Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert." She wondered if he was listening. If he heard her. If he knew the poem. If he was the man she thought he was his ears would be drawn in by the first line. "Near them on the sand, half sunk, a shattered visage lies." She heard a shift behind her as she swallowed thinking he was listening very closely like a good augment. She palmed the paper from her pocket.
"Whose frown and wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command," Her reading became more aggressive. She hoped that her tone would draw him closer. Her heart was beating rather quickly. A tool she held, clattered against the table. She let it lie there. "Tell that its sculptor well those passions read which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things," She was whispering again yet she now could hear his steps.
She closed her eyes imagining his hands behind his back, his head tilting slightly to observe her in every way he could. She wanted his eyes on her. She wanted him to accept her request. It was too important not to. She then felt his body against her leaning with a brilliant heat his muscular chest against her back. The muscles in his chest were solid. His breathing was steady, but she still felt it. Harrison was burning. She had the note between her fingers. Her other hand was at her side.
"The hand that mocked them." She placed the note into Harrison's willing hand. "And the heart that fed." She felt something slip into her other hand just as she had given her note away. She had received a note from him. Marla could feel a mixture of emotions she didn't have time to identify press against her. The bridge of Harrison's nose stroked her hair and scalp. He let out a soft hot exhale. "And on the pedestal," She swallowed slowly as Harrison's free hand that had given a note grazed her hip lightly. "These words appear,"
"My name is Ozymandias," He pronounced each word with such vigor and force. "King of Kings." His fingers stroked lower against her thigh hooking his fingers around her hip bone. "Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair."
His fingers and palm edged closer to her inner thigh. His hand closed in on reaching for her pelvis. The warmth drove Marla mad enough to allow her eyes to shut closed hoping for something more in that moment. Her quivers were no longer set to fear. He only hovered for a moment as if thinking whether to give her the pleasure of his touch. His hand retreated.
"Nothing beside remains." The words were almost said in disappointment. She could feel Harrison slowly begin to back away. "Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away." Her last word with said in a simple breath.
Marla wondered what Harrison would think of her note, of the scribbled words, "I want Admiral Marcus dead." She knew she had made the right choice. Vengeance was far greater then living any longer then needed. She could fight for herself, but she could not fight to destroy others. Harrison could. The pair didn't speak after the poem was said. Marla stayed busy until it was time to return home. Once safe in her walls she read Harrison's undeniably unoriginal request:
"Help me save my people."
Author's Note: This has been my favorite chapter to write so far. Just shows how similar Marla and John truly are. Plus the sexual tension is starting to emerge. What do you guys think of Marla and John's (Khan's) evolution so far? Did Marla's decision to negate her own well being for the death of another surprise you? Let me know what you guys think! :)
PS: Ozymandias is by Percy Bysshe Shelley, not me.