I hope everyone who celebrate Christmas had a great one! Mine was fair enough.

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2259

Nearly a week passed in utter boredom. He spent quite a bit of time meditating. The secluded, silent nature of his chambers readily allowed for this. Onboard the Enterprise or any of the Admiral's ships, his holdings had been quite bustling. Fortunately, as it seemed he was to stay awhile and was considered too charismatic to be allowed in normal Starfleet confinement, he'd been give very private quarters.

The PADDs were replaced as he works through them, though not at a fast enough rate. He processed about eight a day. They'd given him nothing too interesting – classical fictional works, a variety of volumes of poetry, and a few select pieces of history. The occasional quantum physics text or botany study was thrown, too, and he wondered who, precisely, is selecting his reading. None of it was "dangerous" or would in any way aid him in escape, however. For the most part, Khan's reading material seems to give him an appropriate update of the goings-on of the world. Having resided on Earth over the last three years, it was hardly necessary. But he grudgingly finds that they are things he was not aware of. Unsurprising, considering how many hours he spent in laboratory researching and constructing weapons for Marcus's war-bound fleet.

He is learning – a welcomed distraction.

Aside from that, however, the Augment was left with little else to do besides meditate and think. He did not even have any means of drawing or writing. A pity, as design was something he took solace in, and he would like to keep some sort of records.

Unlike his time spent imprisoned under Marcus, Khan experienced a very limited contact with others. Meals were delivered, thrice daily, by stone-faced pair of guards. Every other day or so a physician came to examine him and draw samples. It was never the doctor McCoy, however, and this new doctor, a stern-faced woman of about sixty rarely spoke except to direct him to "lift that" or "move this." Hardly stimulating conversation.

A fresh-faced security officer stopped by perhaps twice daily to deliver clothes and new PADDs, along with offering updates on his trial, which was not-too-swiftly approaching. As Starfleet had essentially lost the greater part of its command, things were in a bit of a scramble, and processing Khan through the judiciary system was hardly a priority. He could easily imagine most of the Enterprise's officers, and indeed, most of Starfleet, were more than happen to let him stew.

When forced to think, Khan thought of his crew, just has he had over the last three years. His comrades. Names and faces flicked through his mind, tidbits of conversations, hopeful expressions, a collage he allows himself to drown in during points of despair. These were the people relying on him. His people. His kind. They were his drive. The only thing keeping him on an even keel. Except, perhaps –

He allowed that his association with a certain Dr. Alya Nejem might very well contribute to his remarkable focus over his three years of servitude to Marcus.

Thinking of the young Dr. Nejem made him uncomfortable. In the years since his release, she was the closest thing he'd established as a friend. It had not been his aim to make friends, especially not with any humans. Considering his plans following the revival of his crew include dealing a significant blow to her species, growing an attachment to Dr. Nejem was unwise. Yet he could not seem to prevent it, as she made a point of visiting him and including him within her life. He'd come to the conclusion last month, when he was pushing the initial steps of recovering of his crew into action, that he would make an effort to spare Nejem and her family. They were sensible people, not the standard cockroaches of her kind.

She was an intriguing person. After their first few encounters, she'd made an effort to see him again. And it would appear she did not mind his company, and would in fact seek it. He'd not encountered any other humans who were so willing to meet with him. Most either acted as some for of security, authority, or coward in fear before him.

Dr. Nejem, however, pushed her fear aside (which was not to say it did not exist, as he new it most certainly did) first to do her job, secondly to establish some form of relationship with the Augment. Marcus did not approve, but he did not deny the John Harrison much while his weapons were in construction. Alya knew of the Fleet Admiral's dislike of her attachment to his chief weapons engineer, but she choose to ignore it. As she put it, the Augment had few balls in his court, and she might as well give him her friendship.

He'd had plenty of balls in his court, of course, with his crew being concealed and his connections to Sector 31.

Yes, he thought, he'd keep Nejem from harm.

She was the only human he'd established any kind of fondness for since his mother. A memory of his mother's brown, round face surfaces, and the Augment sighed. He'd not seen her in roughly three-hundred-and-thirty years.

In the initial Augment trials, volunteers had been impregnated with the genetically engineered embryos. Most were young women in poverty, unable to have their own children, and far from being able to afford insemination. The deal had been cast that if these women were to carry the Augment children to term, the scientist would enable them to have their own children.

Khan's mother, Indrani, was very young. He could recall the scent of her flowery perfume, soft hands and a welcoming smile. He'd stayed with her until he was five, though physically he was nearer eight or nine as a result of the genetic manipulation.

"Priya," she would sooth, pushing back his thick black locks. Indrani completely thought of him as her son, despite the fact that they shared no genes, even though he was destined to leave her life all too soon. She raised him like her own, teaching him the ways of their culture, naming him after a grandfather, nurturing. Others would whisper of his differences – pale skin, light eyes. But Indrani scolded, sent them away. He was her son. He never doubted her love.

His father was hardly around, travelling for his work. Indrani did not seem to mind, however. The man was a shadow in the back of Khan's mind. His mother was more of a solid figment, a touch he could recall easily.

She was not smart – not in the way he was. But she was gentle and encouraging and proud. He wondered if she still held that pride, even after he was gone. If she thought her son was out in the world, doing great things. Her bright boy.

They came for him when he was five. She had not cried – not before him, but he heard her weeping through the thin walls of their house the night previous. When they waited in the threshold, Indrani had slowly dressed her son with dry eyes. She stopped, placing her hands on either side of his head.

"Be strong," she whispered. "Tauti.Aham asmi mAnanahat. I have great pride."

With that, she had kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger. Khan looked into her deep brown eyes, examined her round, clear face, the skin that was so dark and different from his own, and hoped he would remember this touch always. One more hug, and he was gently pushed towards the tall and imposing men that had come to take him away.

He looked back only once. And, unless he was mistaken, Indrani had broken her resolve not to cry.

As it had turned out, Khan was the only one from his generation of Augments to have survived. All others had failed within the womb. This made him the eldest, the only one of his class for a time, and soon, the leader.

He never saw Indrani again. He never returned home. In later years, when he ruled from Israel to Asia, he would tour India. They would pass by his village, and Khan would look into the faces of all the brown-faced grandmothers they passed, and he would wonder. But he did not stop. He allowed the feeling rising in his throat to pass.

Since Indrani, no standard human had reached his regard. He rose within the ranks of the Augment army, ruled a forth of Terra with a gentle but firm hand, and then was outcast to the stars with 83 of his fellows. While he was surrounded by those his own kind, Khan felt a deep bitterness. They had made it out, while many had not. Yet, Khan Noonien Singh was deeply unsettled.

It was a feeling that followed him into the cryogenic chamber, then afterwards when he awoke. It would follow him until a few months before launching his attack, when Khan realized a glimmer of hope, a slim promise of a future lay before him. It was a promise he found in the young Dr. Nejem.

-XXX-

The seventy-two remaining casks are moved onboard after a team of nurses was sent down to check the vitals. I feel unsettled, knowing that seventy-two people, seventy-two super strong people sit in our hull. Marcus does not seem to care – not minding that one member of this mysterious crew had killed one of his security officers and incapacitated another three. Perhaps it was the inexperienced, naïve side of me, but I could not be so relaxed.

Out of the group, I am the last submitted to the medical bay. I pass Cooper, the commander, and S'van. S'van is the only one conscious. He offers me a half-hearted wave. I return it with a wiggle of stiff fingers, attempting to smile. I fail.

I also pass the unconscious man. Khan. He's in his own room, one of the glass-walled private mini-clinics. Someone has cleaned him up. The blood is gone, revealing starkly pale skin. All that remains is a few dark cuts – cuts that are already fading to scars, I note, pink and picked around the edges. Against the white of the sheets, the man appears almost grey.

Noting my gaze, the nurse leading me sighs. "He's going through shock. Not surprising, considering he just was removed from a cryogenic state – without any medical support." She tsks. "Then to get up and fight four officers…."

"Will he be okay?" I find myself asking. I shouldn't care. I don't want to care. Harlan lies down in the morgue, decks below. He doesn't deserve my consideration.

"Yes. He's in a light coma at the moment – self-induced – but he ought to shake out of it sometime within the next week. The human mind is quite adept at healing itself, and if given the chance."

"Human, my ass," I think.

"Oh," is all I say. We've reached the room.

"Please sit on the bed," the nurse says cheerily. "And allow me to check your vitals. You've undergone quite a bit of stress, Dr. Nejem, so we need to make sure everything is stable."

I comply with all her instructions. In under twenty minutes I am proclaimed to be in good health. I exit the med bay as swiftly as possibly, my gaze purposefully avoiding the room the man lies in.

-XXX-

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