His son was dead and his daughter poisoned against him. This ship was as good as his, but he was too fraught with grief and rage to appreciate his victory. His plan might be in motion with few real obstacles so far, and yet it felt as though everything was falling apart. When the man from the boarding party arrived on the bridge with Maya, he only glanced toward them briefly.
"I need to speak privately with Maya." Responding with only a nod the other augment left. "Captain Albrecht told me everything." His voice was low, but there were obvious signs of a struggle to contain his rage: twitching in his fingertips, tension in his neck. "And because she is incapable of deception in her current state, denying the truth will only waste time."
Maya opened her mouth to speak, but was at a loss as to what to say, whether to explain herself, or gamble on the hope that Albrecht had been vague on the details and spin a take to make it seem as though she had acted in self defense.
"Nothing to say for yourself?" Khan still didn't look at his daughter as he spoke. "Maya, to shoot a man in the back is a cowardly thing to do."
"I've wanted him out of my life for years, I thought that had always been obvious." Maya was shaking, partly from fear and partly from rage. "This was the first time I had a chance."
"My child, my heir, my legacy is gone, and why? Because you were jealous?" Khan still managed to contain his anger, but his control was slipping, his speech louder and more forceful.
"Because he made me fear for my life every time we had a disagreement!" Maya shouted.
"Cowardice again?" he shouted back, finally looking back at his only surviving child. "Still a poor justification for what you have done." He looked away again, pausing to try to regain control of himself. "Get away from me. The longer you are in my company the more likely I am to do something I will regret."
Maya didn't need a second warning, not another moment passed before she turned to leave the bridge. Where to, she had no idea.
Commander George McTavish: More combat experience than anyone else on the ship.
Ensign Somchai Theeravit: younger and less experienced, but a master at mixed martial arts and a few impressive competition titles to his name.
Lieutenant Saoirse Dougherty: experience in hostage negotiation
Lieutenant-Commander Torot: known for practicing a variety of martial arts for recreation, but mostly chosen for being a Vulcan. With the information from Doctor T'Rallia, LeFevre wanted to be sure to include someone with resistance to Ceti eels, and his increased Vulcan strength would also be an asset
Lieutenant-Commander Ishrissia Zh'izaolit: second only to McTavish in combat experience, and LeFevre had his hopes that her Andorian brain might also have some resistance to Ceti eels.
That was Captain LeFevre's landing party. Each of them the most qualified for the job, yet he still felt as though he was sending them to their deaths. The five of them were gathered with LeFevre in his ready room, along with Commanders Dalton. LeFevre had a grim look on his face.
"I'm not going to lie, I don't like the looks of this." His voice was stern, and he spoke slowly, careful to choose each word. "The five of you are the best I have to offer, but the odds are still stacked against us, staggeringly so, to be frank. The Augments took Albrecht and her crew with no trouble at all, and I'm afraid this may be the last time we speak. I hate that I'm sending you into danger, and that I won't be at your side, but I need to stay on the ship. The Portland…has been compromised, and I fear she may turn hostile."
A heavy moment of silence. Even Commander Dalton didn't have any encouraging morsel of optimistic wisdom. Torot was the first to speak in response. "Captain, based on my previous observations, we have reached the point in our briefing where you typically offer advice in the form of an ice hockey analogy."
LeFevre smiled, a welcome break in the tension. "Skate to where the puck is going, not to where it's been."
"Meaning?"
"Think three steps ahead and don't hesitate to act. Phasers set to kill, they're not going to hesitate to use lethal force, so neither should you. Only exercise restraint if hostages are nearby."
"Captain," Dougherty spoke up this time. "Are you sure that's necessary?"
LeFevre nodded. "Absolutely necessary. Admiral Kirk's report stated that a hater set to stun has little effect." A look toward Torot. "The same goes for the Vulcan nerve pinch. At any rate, we're long past the point of diplomacy. They've forced our hand."
Maya ducked down an empty corridor where she hoped she could be alone for a bit. She leaned her back against the wall to brace herself, and with her right hand she reached up to massage her injured shoulder, to work back into place the joint that was out of track, but fortunately not completely dislocated. It could have been worse. Pain she could handle, subluxation was an inconvenience, but it was all more favorable than the numbness and weakness she used to deal with.
The pain in her shoulder was insignificant compared to to the pain in her heart. She felt torn apart, simultaneously wanting to disappear, to run far away, and to find something to keep herself busy enough to keep the uncomfortable thoughts from finding any room to grow.
She wandered the wreckage, hoping that moving around would clear her head, or distract her from her own feelings, or at least pass the time until she would meet whatever awful consequences she had in store. In time she found the place where a few of the hostages were held: three older men in Starfleet uniforms, one of them Vulcan. Maya kept her distance, even though she was the one who found them, for someone craving solitude just seeing other people felt like an intrusion.
"I suppose you're here to tell me that Khan wants to speak to me again," Kirk answered: tired and worried he would have no choice but to witness another death.
"I couldn't tell you what my father wants," Maya replied, still staying back. "And for now it's in my best interest to stay away from him." She paused to study the trio, piecing together who one of them had to be, the one who spoke. "You must be James Tiberius Kirk."
"Lucky guess," McCoy interjected, rolling his eyes.
"I was often told when I was little that I was meant to be a princess and that you were the only reason I wasn't." Maya sounded wistful, yet with a caustic edge.
"So, I guess that means you have the same vitriol toward me as your father and are just as eager to get on a starship and start taking over the galaxy?" Kirk asked, taunting a bit.
"Years ago I might have, but I came to realize that I even then I'll never be good enough, and our relationship has been irreparably damaged. Besides, he has a ship now." She reached a point where nothing seemed to matter anymore, where she regretted every one of her choices over the past few days, had no idea where she stood, and was sure her situation couldn't get worse. Revealing some secrets to a few prisoners seemed small.
"What, this old wreck?" McCoy teased. Even in such a dire situation, he couldn't help it.
"No, he has control of the Portland."
"Are you sure?" Spock asked.
Maya nodded. "I was there." A pause. "And I may have made choices that set it into motion." She braced herself for condemnation and for looks of shock and anger and received exactly what she expected.
"So you came here to gloat?" McCoy accused.
"No, I wasn't expecting to find you," Maya explained. Her heart raced again, this was what she always tried to avoid, feeling so raw and vulnerable. "And I can't stop talking because I have too many thoughts and feelings that are too big to keep inside my head. I've made a mess of things for both sides, and I can't make sense of anything anymore." A long pause. "I should go." She turned and began to walk away, but stopped when she heard Kirk call her name.
"Maya. It is Maya, right?" Maya stopped and turned to look back at Kirk. "What exactly did you do?"
"It's a long story," she answered with a sigh. "It began when I thought finding my way on the Portland would make my father proud and ended when everything fell apart around me and I killed my own brother."
"Even their sibling rivalry is enhanced," McCoy muttered, but Kirk gave him a sharp glance to quiet him.
"Is that what you want?" Kirk tried to be gentle and soft as he spoke. "To make your father proud of you?"
Maya sighed and shook her head. "I don't know what I want anymore….To be safe. To leave this place and not have to die on this rock."
"Bold of you to try the tactic you tried with Captain Albrecht." Kirk abandoned the sympathetic angle, speaking with an accusatory tone.
"I would willingly go with you as a prisoner, even though I'm sure I've done enough to be executed on your planet."
"The Federation does not execute criminals," Spock responded. "We rehabilitate them"
"I can't consider this." Kirk shook his head. "Not now. Not until after the remaining civilian hostages are safe and the three of us are back on the Enterprise, then I might be able to consider your case."
"More blood on your hands, Kirk." Again, Maya turned to go, but even after her back was turned she continued to speak. "I could have helped you. I could contact the Enterprise and get you out of here, but I don't blame you for not trusting me. I wouldn't trust myself either."