Didn't get much a response to the last chapter, but oh well! I hope you enjoyed it, and hope everyone had a safe and merry New Year. 2014 is already shaping up to be quite nice for me. I hope the same goes for you!

-XXX-

He is given a new suit for the trial. It is black with a high collar, remarkably similar to which he arrived wearing. A pair of officers stand at attention outside as he dresses and grooms himself. There is an anticipation in his guards. Today is the day – the day his fate will be determined. Unless he is mistaken, the entire city, nay, country, world, shall be on the edge of their seats, least of all Starfleet.

The one to get the biggest blow. The peacekeeping organization had suffered losses in the hundreds. With only a few dozen civilian lives lost in the power struggle, Starfleet was by far the grieving widow in this case. Khan has little doubt that the court room will be positively packed with the warm, weak bodies of overly-eager humans.

Thick cuffs encase his wrists when he emerges from the cell. One of the officers evaluates him before motioning for the other to go.

They escort him, in silence, to the car. For the first time in weeks, Khan blinks back daylight. It sears his eyes.

After a silent ride, they arrive. A sea of reporters – a near-solid blur of the neutral greys, blues, and blacks the media people preferred – await them on the steps. Along with, Khan notes, six more Starfleet security officers in their dress reds. Immediately after he is removed from the vehicle, he is surrounded – first by the security detail, then the media slugs. His lip gives just he barest curl of disgust.

"I've no idea what I've done to deserve this," he sneers to himself as the cameras flash, the journalist going nuts, shouting madly for a statement, a sentence, a word, anything -

Marching up the stairs seems to happen in a flash. He's taken inside, then straight into the chambers.

It is a vast room, styled like a lecture hall with descending seats going roughly a hundred feet into the floor. It is nearly an arena.

Twelve figures sit behind the counter on a dais in the center of the furthest wall. As Terra was the primary victim, the United Federation of Planets was not to be involved in the proceedings. Khan eyes the twelve, noting the ranks upon the collars of their pressed black robes. These were the finest of Starfleet JAG, elevated to the rank of judge. He had not met any in his time as John Harrison. Yet he knows each name. Cristian Wolk. Sarisha Everflee. Linus Marcequet. Unduta Klyete. Yvone Crossly. Jonil Breek. Honor Park. Tyril Goodwin. Day Winterheld. Zhu Di Fuong. Peter Fydorosky. Eveline O'Connell. His eyes pass over every stoic face. Not a scrap of emotion is returned.

The chamber bustles with spectators. Most are of Starfleet, a few are news people, others the usual courtroom junkies, all are here to see justice served.

Particularly, Khan notes, the group descending the stairs now.

Five officers of the Enterprise are making their way to the floor. The good Dr. McCoy, Carol Marcus, Lt. Uhura, Commander Spock, and Captain James T. Kirk. Khan watches, impassive, as they make their way past the crowd, which whispers, the "ooohs" and "ahhs" floating through the chamber like a wave. All officers have a look of strictness about them. Once they have settled in their seats beside the other eyewitnesses (front, and just off center, level with him), a few curious eyes turn towards him. McCoy gazes upon him with something akin to fury mixed with interest, while Uhura is cool in her regard. Spock, Marcus, and Kirk do not even turn their heads, eyes set firmly on the dais.

Marcus, Khan notes, wears a small black band 'round her silver Starfleet insignia. Part of him feels a tinge of satisfaction knowing he was the one to put it there.

Nearly forty-five minutes after his arrival, there is a loud knock of wood against granite. The trial begins.

Only opening statements are made today. Virtually, nothing more than some ceremonial drivel about the lives lost in Starfleet, et cetera, et cetera. Khan's legal defense is rather quiet, though determined to go out gracefully. Like Khan, they know there is no chance of him getting even a life sentence. Disgust rises in his throat at the spectacle of it all. "Will the drawn-out process ease their guilt?" He sneers to himself. The emotional fragility of humans.

Khan, who stands on the podium on his side of the chambers, does not make a move or a sound over the entire three-hour proceedings. Almost all eyes stay on him throughout. He ignores them. The twelve agree to a recess and reconvening tomorrow. Khan is lead back.

The uneventful nature of the day frustrates him, but it is expected. He expects to bear this for at least a few weeks – at the very least, it is a better occupation than sitting in his cell day in and day out.

"But for how many days?"

Weeks, possibly, hopefully not more than a few months. He will pass a nothing less than guilty, he knows. But they shall extend it into something long and torturous – yet another punishment.

The gavel is again struck. Within seconds he is surrounded by red shirts.

He is being escorted up the long stairs once more when he pauses. A figure among the crowd has caught his eye. Somewhere near the top row, still above his party, sits a young woman. She is half-hidden in a veil of burgundy, though he can make out dark eyes and hair easily. Perhaps because he already knows what is there. She wears a modest cream-coloured dress of a kurti style that drapes elegantly, giving little hint to her figure. Sitting in the back, she does not stand out. Regardless, he can see her. Recognize her.

"Alya."

Her eyes shine with what he thinks might be unshed tears. His gaze stays upon her, but he does not speak, does not gesture. One of the security officers places a meaningful hand upon his shoulder, urging him on silently. Khan reluctantly moves on. When he passes, she turns. People flood after him, push up the stairs like animals to feed, but Alya remains in her row. Khan does not look back. Regardless, he can all but feel her gaze follow after

In the car, he stares out the window. What had been a sunny morn has turned to an overcast afternoon. The greying bay city passes his window by sluggishly. Soon, the mist will claim the city. Sitting back, Khan wonders if she's back to living in the city again, or if this was merely a daytrip for sentimentality's sake. After all, they had started this journey together over two years ago. It would be fitting for her to see it through to the end.

The last time he had seen her was the evening after the initial attack. Shortly before he had left for Kronos. She had been so angry, terrified, even, yet had stopped to comfort him anyways. He had not wanted to say goodbye in such a way – actually, had not planned on saying goodbye at all. A fear of regret led him to divert from the plan. Someone had to know…someone needed to know that this was not some thoughtless act of terrorism. That is was a cause.

He wonders if he shall see her tomorrow.

Part of him hopes so. She will provide the relief of distraction.

-XXX-

This was a little short, I know, but I wanted to get just a taste of the trial. Reviews would be awesome!