Star Trek: Into Darkness: film tie-in novelization

by Alan Dean Foster

  Kirk considered the admiral’s words before replying quietly. “Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m the last person on the planet to back away from a fight, but . . . that’s your Starfleet, Admiral. It’s not mine. It’s not what I signed up for, not what I vowed to defend, and not the philosophy I plan to use in guiding my career.” He glanced to his right. “Scotty?”

  More than a little astonished to be asked to comment on such a philosophical difference of opinion, the chief engineer responded with a smile. “Dinna ask me, Captain. I just keep things running. But I’d rather be workin’ with engines than with weapons.” He shifted his gaze to the hard-staring Admiral Marcus. “You kinna make friends with others, Admiral, if you focus your energies on blowin’ ’em up. As you say, the galaxy’s a big place. Folks with whom you can share a few drinks are few and far between. Meself, I believe in doin’ all we can to encourage that.”

  Kirk gestured at Marcus with the phaser he was holding. “Get out of that chair.”

  The admiral tried again. “I want you to stop and think about what you’re doing, Kirk. Not about some imaginary future confrontation. About right now. Think about what you did on Qo’noS. Are you sure you weren’t identified? That the Klingon patrol you wiped out—yes, I was able to access the preliminary report—didn’t pass along the word that they had contacted and been forced into combat with humans? You were on their homeworld illegally, unauthorized. Not only did you not have permission to land on Qo’noS, you arrived and departed by stealth, having done nothing except resist interrogation and commit murder. That’s how the Klingons will see it—as murder, not as resisting arrest and questioning.”

  Kirk smiled thinly. “If so, the K’normians will have some awkward questions to answer.”

  Marcus was shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter who they blame, or if they blame anyone. It doesn’t matter if you managed to make an incursion onto a hostile world without leaving a single trace of your visitation in your wake. Nothing changes the fact that war with the Klingons is coming. If your visit was discovered and reported to the authorities on Qo’noS, it will only hasten the inevitable. If it was not, then we have gained a little more time before the cataclysm arrives. And who’s going to lead us? You?”

  The admiral’s tone changed to one of furious desperation.

  “If I’m not in charge when that happens, our entire way of life, not to mention the very survival of our species, will be at risk. So I ask you, I beg you, one more time: Lower your gun. Report back to your ship. You have my word I’ll allow the Enterprise to depart unharmed, or if you prefer, remain on station here in lunar space until such repairs have been completed as will allow you to transfer to Earth orbit.”

  He nodded in the direction of the prone body sprawled on the deck close by Kirk’s feet.

  “All I ask is that you leave him with me. The fact that you had him stunned shows that you don’t trust him any more than I would. I used him and his knowledge; I admit that. Now you’ve used him to recover your ship. You and I are even. I’ve said from the beginning of this confrontation that it’s him I wanted all along. Leave him with me so I can deal with him, and let’s pretend none of this happened.”

  Scott made a disgusted noise. “Two Federation ships engage in near-fatal combat with one another, and we’re to pretend none o’ it happened? I’d like to see the final report on that one!”

  Admiral Marcus favored the chief with a faint smile. “You would be surprised, Mr. Scott, on what can be made to disappear through the use of appropriate language. Obfuscation is the primary weapon of bureaucrats. What has happened here will be put down to mistakes in communication, deficient electronics, and whatever other scapegoats can be fabricated. It will not be the first time in human history that armed vessels engaged in accidental combat. If you are not familiar with the ancient term ‘friendly fire,’ I suggest you educate yourself when you have some free time.” He turned back to Kirk. “That is my proposal. I suggest you think it over carefully in light of what you may have to do. Because if you think I’m abandoning this ship and leaving quietly with you, you’re going to have to kill me.”

  “I’m not going to kill you, sir.” Neither Kirk’s determination nor the muzzle of the weapon he held had wavered. “But I could ignore everything you’ve said, stun your ass, and drag you out of that chair, but I’d rather not do that in front of your daughter.” He looked toward her. “You all right?”

  Though shaken, she replied immediately. “Yes, Captain.”

  For an instant, Scott had taken his eyes off the figure on the floor. It was more time than Khan needed. A single blow put the chief on the deck.

  “Jim!” Carol shouted.

  It would not have mattered how fast Kirk reacted; Khan was so much faster. A leap, a grab and squeeze, and a body slam put Kirk down. He tried to avoid the punch that followed and could not. Lifting the captain as if he were weightless, Khan threw him against the far wall.

  Carol Marcus scrambled to intercept him. “Listen . . . wait!”

  Contemptuously, Khan threw her to the floor. Though he pulled the kick he delivered to the right thigh of the prone science officer, it was enough to bring forth a high-pitched scream of pain. Advancing steadily, he cornered Admiral Marcus.

  His lips tightened ever so slightly as he placed an open palm on either side of the admiral’s head and began to squeeze. “You—you—should have let me sleep.”

  The snapping sound that followed was overwhelmed by Carol Marcus’s horrified scream. On the deck, a stunned Kirk could only look on—and listen.

  XV

  Spock was as close as he could come to expressing genuine anxiety.

  “Where is the captain, Mr. Sulu?”

  While the same question had been bedeviling the helmsman for some time now, he could provide only the same maddeningly uninformative response as previously.

  “Our sensor array’s still down, sir. We can’t probe the interior of the other ship. I’ve been trying some workarounds, but even they went down suddenly. I can’t find him.”

  The science officer frowned. “Suddenly? Suddenly ‘when,’ Mr. Sulu?”

  The helmsman looked toward the command chair. “Just now, actually, sir. I was starting to make some progress, and everything just went—”

  Spock didn’t wait for him to finish. “Divert all noncritical power to shields.”

  “Shields, sir?” Sulu looked uncertain. “According to what I can see, they’re still working to finalize the restoration of their own systems over there. The only ones that I can see are running a hundred percent at the moment are life support and artificial gravity.”

  “Shields up,” Spock tersely reiterated. “Now.”

  From another station an ensign monitoring the referenced systems called across to the command chair. “Sir, our maximum capability is twenty-one percent, and that’s only if we drop all—”

  “Do it, Mr. Bradley. Extrapolating from what Mr. Sulu says, I have the feeling that . . . Captain?”

  Without preamble, the view forward of the black warship had been replaced by one of James Kirk. Standing straight but looking more than a little battered, he was edged to one side to reveal Khan standing beside him. The former prisoner held the business end of a phaser against the captain’s neck. Spock did not need higher resolution to tell him that the weapon was likely not set on stun.

  “I’m going to make this very simple for you, Mr. Spock,” Khan told him softly.

  “Captain.” There was almost a hint of emotion in Spock’s voice.

  “Your crew,” Khan continued, “for my crew.”

  Well behind Khan, Spock could make out Chief Engineer Scott and Dr. Carol Marcus. They appeared to be weaponless, though the Vulcan was coming to believe that where Khan was concerned it would not have made any difference if both the chief and the admiral’s daughter had been armed.

  “You have betrayed us,” Spock said evenly. “The captain trusted you. Trusted you enough to make you an ally aga
inst the renegade Admiral Marcus.” Spock tried to peer deeper into the corners of the viewscreen image. “I see only Engineer Scott and Dr. Marcus behind you. Where is the admiral?”

  “At peace,” Khan replied without hesitation. “And if we’re going to throw around the term ‘betrayal,’ I’m the one who should be outraged. I’m the one who was betrayed.” He nodded back in the direction of Scott. “Once the admiral and those around him had been dealt with, your man shot me. On the direct order of the same captain you claim made me his ally.”

  Spock replied with equal coolness. “And would we now be in a different position if he had not? Would this exchange be taking place under different circumstances? Or was having you put down—inadequately, it would appear—merely a momentary interruption in your predetermined plan for regaining control of your crew once the admiral had been dealt with?”

  There was a pause, and then Khan smiled. There was pleasure in it, but no amusement. “Oh, you are smart, Mr. Spock. It takes true intelligence to see beyond the immediate and into the future. Most men have thoughts only for the moment. It would be interesting to play chess with you.”

  “Isn’t that what we are doing?” Spock shot back.

  One of the game pieces chose that moment to speak up, as the dazed Kirk tried to pull away from Khan. “Listen to me, Spock! Don’t do—”

  Khan cut Kirk off in mid-sentence with a blow from the butt of the phaser he was holding, dropping him to the deck. As the stunned Kirk struggled and failed to rise, Khan turned back to the vid pickup. It was evident he was tiring of games of any kind.

  “No more discussions. No more meaningless, time-wasting banter. I’ve waited three hundred years. Give me my crew.”

  Khan was brilliant, devious, and physically overpowering, but he was not omnipotent. If that were so, he would have known that one cannot hurry a Vulcan.

  “Suppose I comply with your request,” Spock replied calmly, and not in the least intimidated. “What will you do when you get them?”

  “Continue the work we were doing before we were banished.”

  “Which is?” One eyebrow lifted quizzically.

  “Making the world a better place.” There was not so much as a suggestion of irony in Khan’s reply.

  “‘Better.’ Meaning, more like you,” Spock surmised.

  Giving the lie to what he had said a moment earlier, Khan showed himself willing to continue the conversation . . . provided it might lead to a worthwhile conclusion on the part of a respected opponent.

  “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  “As I understand your position, and extrapolating from what I have subsequently learned about you, it would involve the mass genocide of all beings you found to be less than superior specimens. With you being the arbiter of such decisions, of course.”

  Khan turned simultaneously wistful and philosophical. Or maybe he was just insane. “One must first destroy before they can create anew. There is no point in sowing fresh seed on a field thick with weeds.” His expression was almost sad. “Shall I destroy you, Mr. Spock, or will you give me what I want? Come: Here is an opportunity for you to demonstrate your own personal superiority. Not to mention simple good sense.”

  Though the Vulcan term for it differed from that of the human, stalling was a tactic not unknown to the science officer. “We have no transporter capabilities.”

  Khan favored him with a thin smile. “Fortunately, that is not a problem, as mine are perfectly functional.” He glanced to one side. “Dr. Marcus can personally attest to that. Drop your shields.”

  “If I do so,” Spock responded, “I have no guarantee you will not kill the captain and destroy the Enterprise.”

  “Ah, so it seems we are back to gaming again. As you like. Let’s play this out ‘logically.’ Firstly, I will kill your captain to demonstrate both my resolve and my seriousness. That will eliminate your first concern from the equation, as he will then be dead and no longer a factor in our discussion. As to your resolve, if it continues to hold firm, I will have no choice but to kill you and your entire crew. So you see, you can turn over my crew to me and subsequently trust me to let you live, or I can kill you and your colleagues and recover my crew afterwards. Whether you live or die, I will have my people back.”

  “And yet,” Spock replied, “if you destroy the Enterprise, you destroy your own people as well.”

  Khan’s smile widened. “You forget, Mr. Spock. Your crew requires a continuous supply of fresh air to survive. Mine, being frozen in stasis, demands only a minimal energy draw to remain as they are until such time as they can be properly revived. Each stasis pod is individually powered, so that even if one or two of my companions should be lost, the rest would survive until revivification.” He nodded in the general direction of the warship’s instrumentation.

  “Obviously, obliterating the Enterprise in a paroxysm of destruction would risk my crew’s survivability. Do you still wonder why the former admiral Marcus desired it? In contrast, I will selectively target the life-support systems located in the vicinity of the engine nacelles. Once everyone aboard your ship has suffocated, I will walk over your cold corpses until I recover my people. Should a few of you manage to slip into EV suits, I will deal with those resourceful individuals one at a time.” For emphasis, he pointed the end of the phaser toward the dazed Kirk’s neck. “Game over. Now, shall we begin?”

  Time was indeed up, Spock knew. Aware that he had done all he could, he looked toward the helm. “Lower shields, Mr. Sulu.”

  “Mr. Spock, sir, are you sure that . . . ?”

  “Now, if you please, Mr. Sulu.”

  Exhaling heavily, the helmsman complied. Relevant instrumentation confirmed the execution of Spock’s command. Defeated murmuring rose from those on the bridge. No one could blame the science officer. He had tried his best to dissuade a creature who had proved remorseless as well as cunning.

  Still on the viewscreen, Khan could be seen accessing a bridge display, scanning the now completely vulnerable Enterprise while he nodded to himself with satisfaction.

  “A wise choice, Mr. Spock. I had a feeling that when all was said and done, you would do the rational thing. Decision making becomes so much easier when an individual’s choices are reduced to one.”

  Drawing back his leg, he delivered a kick to the prone Kirk’s midsection that left him hardly able to inhale.

  “I now can see that your weapons bay is filled with a variety of photon torpedoes. Including, interestingly, six dozen of an entirely new type.” His voice darkened. “If none of them are mine, Commander, I will know it. At which point there will be no more discussion—of anything.”

  “Vulcans do not lie,” Spock replied solemnly. “You should know that. The ones to which you allude are indeed your torpedoes.”

  Khan stared into the vid pickup a moment longer, as if trying to penetrate the science officer’s thoughts despite the space that separated their respective vessels. Then he nodded once, pleased. Activating the warship’s military-grade transporter system, Khan began retrieving the torpedoes and the precious cryopods they contained one by one.

  Although Khan operated the applicable controls with superhuman speed and skill, it still took several moments to complete the multiple ship-to-ship transfer. As soon as all seventy-two torpedoes had been transported to the warship’s main cargo bay, Khan commenced a unit-by-unit deep probe utilizing the warship’s main sensor scan. It promptly revealed their interior specifications—and contents. After completing half a dozen of these, he appeared to relax ever so slightly.

  “Thank you, Mr. Spock.”

  “I have fulfilled your terms,” Spock told him stiffly. “Now fulfill mine.”

  “Why not? It will make no difference, in the end.” Looking over at a revived Kirk, who was struggling to keep his balance, he spoke condescendingly. “Well, Kirk, it seems I have to return you to your crew, as mine has been returned to me.” Seated now in the warship’s command chair, he prepared to manipulate the a
vailable controls. “This isn’t a transporter room, but if one has a mastery of simple physics and general starship engineering, it’s not so very difficult to manage the reverse of what brought the three of you on board.”

  As he rose weakly, Kirk felt a familiar sense of displacement take hold. The light swam before his eyes, shifting and changing colors. Nearby, similar dislocating swirls of luminance enveloped Dr. Marcus and Mr. Scott. Just out of reach, an indifferent Khan eyed Kirk speculatively as the captain began to vanish.

  “After all,” Khan continued as he worked the relevant instrumentation, “no ship should go down without her captain.”

  On board the Enterprise, silent alarms began to appear on Sulu’s readouts. A worried Sulu looked toward the command chair. “He’s locking phasers on us, sir!”

  “Evasive maneuvers,” Spock snapped. “Full impulse—whatever we have.”

  Deep within the Enterprise, a tripartite swirl of radiance and color shrank and solidified until three figures emerged from within them. It took a disoriented Kirk a moment to realize where Khan had sent them. They were in a holding cell in the ship’s brig—the very same one Khan had occupied while on board. Even a madman, it appeared, could have a sense of humor. Next to him, Carol Marcus looked about to collapse. As Kirk hurried to support her and keep her from falling, Scott rushed to the transparent barrier and began pounding on it. While it was doubtful the impact of his fists could be heard on the other side, his voice conveyed his exasperation quite clearly.

  “Och, man,” he shouted at the guard on duty, “let us outta here now!”

  The concussion that rocked the brig area along with the rest of the ship knocked all three of them off their feet.