Excited for New Years? I certainly am!
-XXX-
Two days later, I'm sitting beside Cooper's bed, along with several other officers, including Luta. He's a little worse for wear, but on the mend, all smiles, and, more importantly, awake. Mariann, another science officer, has brought him a box of chocolate-covered cherries (replicated, but not bad), which are being passed around.
"Has the Admiral decided what to do with crazy over there?" Cooper jerks a finger towards the room where the man resides.
"No," one ensign replies. "He's not woken up yet."
Cooper frowns. "What?"
"He's in a coma," I supply. "From shock."
"Right. Of course." He seems to recall the circumstances of the man's revival. Cooper moves to sit up better, wincing slightly. "Well, I should be released tomorrow. And then on duty the day after."
"You'll be up to that?" Luta asks, concerned. The normally bouncy hybrid has been unusually subdued, saddened by her friend's pain.
"Yeah. I might be a little tender, but I'll manage," he says valiantly. I snort – he's milking the situation for all it's worth. Cooper winks at me.
We continue speaking, gossip and speculation passing between us. Slowly, people begin to trickle out of med bay. Soon, Luta and I are the only two left. Luta is plumping the pillows when it happens.
A shrill beeping breaks the lull of the ward. The three of us jump. Luta and I turn, locating the source of the noise quickly. It's coming from the frozen man's room, Khan's room. He's rousing. From Cooper's bedside I can see the display, the lines of his heart rate spiking wildly.
A team of nurses flood the ward, bursting into the room with the staff doctor hot on their heels. One examines the life signs readout, another three surround the bed. The doctor stands at Khan's head, issuing out quick orders. There is a commotion. The entire bay is thrown into temporary chaos. Patients are distressed and riled, nurses on-edge.
While Luta moves back to Cooper, ready to sooth, I find myself compelled forwards, moving, floating towards that glass-walled room until I am at the threshold. Soundless, I stare at the man floundering on the bed before me. The staff is too preoccupied to notice me or tell me to go away. I watch as an oxygen mask is placed over his mouth and nose. His chest, shrouded by a simple black shirt stretched tight over solid muscles, pumps upwards, lungs powerfully accepting the air being offered.
"How's our heart rate, Karen?" asks the doctor.
"Regular, doctor," she replies. "His brainwaves are falling back, too. He'll be waking soon."
With that warning a few nurses back away steadily. They've undoubtedly heard the account of their patient's waking back on the Botany Bay. I can't blame them. The doctor sighs.
Abruptly, there is another spike in his readings, setting off another round of beeping. The staff sets to launch into action again, but they are quickly prevented. The patient sits up swiftly. He removes the mask with an ease and grace I'm almost pained to watch. Blinking slowly, the frozen man focuses his gaze. Right on me.
His eyes are just as piercing as I'd remember, crystal-coloured and void of emotion. I feel lightheaded, and reach out for the frame of the door for support.
That's about when one of the nurses notices me. I am mercilessly shooed out, and nearly back straight into Luta.
"He's awake? I thought he was due to be out for the week?" she gasps. Silent, I nod. The ensign takes my arm. "Are you okay, Alya?"
"Yeah," I manage. "Yeah. Just…tired, all of the sudden."
From behind the glass walls, the man called Khan has yet to look away.
We bid farewell to Cooper. I promise to visit tomorrow after he's released. Luta takes me to my rooms, her brow furrowed and concern in her tone all the way as she repeatedly inquires after my health. At my door, I assure her for the seventh time that I am perfectly alright. She departs, unconvinced. I stand by the door for several minutes, mind blank. Then, I resolve to rest. I pass my replicator, too weary and occupied to eat, moving straight for the bedroom. I strip, step into the shower, and bathe. Afterwards, I slide into bed.
But I cannot sleep. Flashing eyes and rasping voice prevent me. With a huff, I toss and turn, staring out my window. It is sometime before I manage to find sleep.
-XXX-
The next morning I am summoned early by a comm message – Marcus bids my presence in his conference room. I dress swiftly in my black dress trousers and a light green blouse. While without a uniform, I can still dress professionally. I forgo heels for plain black flats, then sweep my hair back into a neat bun.
I arrive, greeting Marcus coolly. Personally, I dislike the man. But he is still our admiral – and a damn good one at that. I sit down to the long, white table. Marcus sits at the head, a few seats down, several PADDs laid out before him. His expression is unreadable.
He doesn't reply right away. After several seconds of scrolling through a PADD, the admiral looks up.
"I believe you were the only person to interact verbally with our prisoner," he states tonelessly.
"Yes…sir." I only just remember to tack on the respectful "sir." I straighten in my seat.
"He remembers. And he has been asking after you."
I freeze. "Excuse me."
"He won't speak to any of us. I want you to interrogate him."
"For what?" I shake my head. "Sir, that's not been a part of my training. I'm not any kind of detective, I interview -"
"I don't care what the hell you do," Marcus says shortly. "You're going down there. Talk to him, find out where he's from and what his people were doing frozen in an abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere. And report back."
"Sir, I cannot –"
"Dismissed." He turns back to the PADD. I gape, open-mouthed as a cod, for several seconds before slipping from the room. My reputation isn't worth this fight.
-XXX-
I am lead down three decks from the bridge, to a long hallway. There is no one in sight. It's just me and two security officers. They stop just before one door at the very end of the hall. A security code in pressed in, the doors slide aside, and we're in –
A vestibule.
"We'll be right here, Dr. Nejem," the younger of the two says. Against my thigh, my fists tighten.
"You're not accompanying me, Lieutenant?" I ask, incredulous. "He is a dangerous man, and I am not getting an security detail? He killed a man."
"Admiral Marcus's orders," the young one murmurs. I round on his companion.
"Your admiral does realize I am not a member of Starfleet and therefore not trained in any form of combat. If this prison wished to inflict any harm on me I'd be toast. I demand -"
"He has been calm and compliant since his release, doctor," the second security officer assures me. "You will be in no danger."
"And your admiral will be in danger of a scathing report by me to HQ," I reply coldly.
The door opens. I enter, my head held high with a dignity I did not feel.
To my surprise, the stark white compartment is rather large and comfortable. It is very white. Two rooms, with a door leading to what I would assume to be a sleeping chamber. I am in a sort of sitting room, with square grey-ish couches, and a solid steel table with two chairs. There is no comm station, as comes standard in most rooms, just a pile of PADDs and books upon a small coffee table. It's a far from comfortable atmosphere. Blanker and more basic than the rooms Startfleet provided to their Academy cadets. Luta has shown me pictures of hers. "Depressing."
"Now…where is…."
There is a rustle of movement in the corner of my eye.
I turn. Somehow, in my observation of the room, the captive in question has emerged from the bedroom and seated himself at the table in the center of the room.
He appears far different from our last two encounters. His skin is no longer a sickly shade of grey. The thick black locks that had fallen over half of his sharp face were now neatly combed back. The black shirt and trousers are gone, and he's wearing some replicated grey thing that is baggy and ugly. Yet, he makes the cheap material appear positively royal in his carriage. Overall, he appears quite polished.
I realize that I've been staring for approximately a minute, completely silent. Gathering my graces, I approach the table.
He observes me, impassive.
Once seated, I fold my hands upon the table.
"I'm Dr. Nejem," I start quietly. "Admiral Marcus requested that I speak with you and try to derive a little more about your background. I'm the closest thing they have to a councilor or psychologist." I smile slightly at this, but it is not returned. He does not appear amused.
I am trying very, very hard not to appear terrified. Something I am perhaps failing at.
He doesn't reply, so I try again. "So, we'll start with names. I've already told you mine. What's yours?"
Instead of answering my question, he tilts back in his seat, regarding me. "You were there. When I first woke. On my ship." These sentences are said in a concise tone, all words pronounced. Though he speaks in Standard, the words are…accented. I do not recognize it, though.
He's waiting for me to respond. "Ah, yes. I was there." I can't resist adding, "I was the only person you didn't incapacitate."
To my surprise, his thin lips quirk. "Yes. I remember."
"Before you passed out you said something. A name. Khan." I pause. There is a sharp vein of remembrance in my mind. There is significance to that name. Memory tinges my thoughts. Something from world history class….."Is that your name?"
The blank mask slips back into place. "No."
"Who are you?"
"John Harrison," he answers shortly.
"Oh, I was mistaken." But somehow I feel I'm not. Still, we're getting somewhere. Relaxing marginally, I breathe. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Harrison."
"Doctor." He inclines his head. "I think you'll find yourself free of toasting within this session, Dr. Nejem."
If I coloured, I would. But I merely wince.
"You say you are a doctor. A doctor of what?"
"Anthropology," I supply readily. "Specializing in Cultural Studies."
His brows rise. "Intergalactic Cultures?"
"It's a new field. Not much left to discover back on Earth. Starfleet has started with a new program where anthropologists are accompanying explorations to study new cultures and species that are encountered."
"You are young to be a doctor," he observes.
"I got my degree early. Then there wasn't much left to do. So…Starfleet it is." I realize that I'm currently the focus of the conversation, and quickly move towards other topics. Primarily, him. "Are you familiar with Starfleet?"
"I find myself intimately familiar with them now, against my will."
"Was it around when you were alive? You've clearly been on ice for sometime. And, seeing as you're human, I suspect you were once a resident of Earth."
He simply looks at me for several long seconds before replying. "No. Starfleet was not in existence when I lived on Earth."
My hands are still folded on the table. I twist one of my rings, an amethyst-set delicate band of silver. "When do you come from?"
He does not want to answer. The purse of his lips and intensity of his gaze confirms this, but I've been instructed to not let up.
"It is curious," John Harrison says, disinterestly. He's looking away. "That you would be the third person to question me. I wonder at your admiral's strategy. To send in the buffoons, then the high command, and finally the young anthropologist. One must wonder what he's playing at."
"What?" I frown. "I am not the first person to question you?"
He doesn't answer, merely raises his brows.
Why would the Admiral send me in after already having sent two people to question this John Harrison? I am probably less qualified than him and whoever else he sent. What sense does it make to send me, the thorn-in-his-side doctor who was fresh from university and had no knowledge of the universe? I push these questions away for the moment. "Time for a change in subject."
"You've quite old," I remark. "I cannot find your ship in any of our records. So, that must mean it predates our records, placing it within the twenty-first century, or it was an off-the records thing. But it is a Terran ship. Our engineers confirmed that. How old are you, John Harrison?"
But I receive no reply. Sighing, I sit back. Delicately as possible, I try to explain my perspective of circumstances.
"Here's the thing. I cannot tell you what Marcus will do if you don't answer these questions. From what you're implying, I am not the first person to come in here and question you, which suggests to me that he's pretty desperate if he's turning to me. I don't like to think that he'd resort to extreme measures, but…I can't trust him. And he doesn't trust you. If you don't start answering his questions soon…I don't know what could happen."
This does not seem to phase Mr. Harrison. He simply looks at me. I gaze back, feeling slightly abashed.
And then, very softly, he begins.
"I am three hundred-and-thirty-four years of age. I was born in India, in the mid Twentieth Century. And I am a genetically superior being. An Augmentation."
"From the Eugenics Wars," I breathe. Unconscious of my actions, I find myself leaning forward. "You were one of the soldiers."
His lips curl back in distaste. "I would hardly describe myself as such. I commanded a battalion until the end of the wars, after which I ruled the Asias."
"Asia?" This man was once virtually an emperor. "That was three hundred years ago," I say slowly. There is a name, niggling within my head. It suddenly snaps into to place. "Khan. Khan Noonien Singh." It's a name I've heard in a history course or two.
Now I really wish I'd taken a few more history courses. I have no doubt his name is somewhere in the books of time. All I know is that he was in the Eugenics Wars, lead a few great armies, was generally rather bloodthirsty, brutal, etc. Most academic agree that he was one of the greats of the age, for all their opinions are worth. Supposedly, after the wars and after getting thrown out of Asia, he'd taken a crew of about one hundred and disappeared, never to be seen again. "You're the Augment Emperor that was overthrown in the revolts, after the Eugenics Wars. What happened?"
"I was overthrown," he says slowly, as though speaking to a less-than-intellectually-competent child. "The Augments were no longer regarded to be fit for rule." His face is carefully blank, voice distant. "We were displaced. Unaccepted by common human society. There were hundreds of us, but only eighty-three of my fellows remained with me – the others sought to find their own fortune, or died in the resulting coup d'etat. So we left. Turned to the stars. With no other world for us, we decided to put ourselves into cryogenic sleep until the world was ready to accept our kind."
"And that's how we found you. Are…all of them like you? Augments?"
"Yes." He bows his head. "Your Admiral has told me only seventy-two have survived." I cannot discern any kind of emotion. He doesn't continue.
"Was there something wrong with your pods? You would've died shortly if we hadn't been there."
"It's been three hundred years. The ship will only support eighty-four life sources for so long."
"Oh." I bite my lip. "I'm sorry."
Eyes, which had been glazed and distant, find and focus upon me. "You have done nothing."
"That doesn't mean I cannot be sympathetic. You've lost your family."
He seems to freeze. "Yes." His voice is faint. "I have."
"I'm sorry," I repeat.
Khan seems to accept this. His lips upturn in a half smile, slightly mocking. "I can see why your admiral sent you to me. You are adept at encouraging others to speak."
I decide to take this as a compliment. "It is my job."
"You're an anthropologist."
"Yes. That's part of it. I've been employed to do stuff like this. Talk to people. But it's mostly for academic studies and gathering greater understanding for Starfleet. In this case, Mr. Harrison, Marcus is using me to interrogate his captives. I don't think he quite understands my skill set."
This appears to amuse John Harrison. "I believe there is a lot your admiral doesn't understand, I believe."
I find myself agreeing with him, though I do not verbally express this.
"Thank you for speaking with me."
He tilts his head. "Will I see you again?"
"I …." I don't know, truthfully. Finally, I say, "I hope so."
He sits back. "Doctor," John Harrison says formally. "Until we meet again."
-XXX-
I saw Desolation of Smaug today. Its funny Benedict had two roles – it was great fun hearing his voice. Aside from that, the film was brilliant as well, I highly recommend it!
Reviews would be brilliant!