The Wrath of Khan

by Vonda N. McIntyre

  "There's got to be! You're beginning to sound like Dave."

  "For all our Lewis Carroll recitations, for all our doing our amateur comedian number at seminars—hell, even for all the fun we've had—we've been hiding out from the implications of our work. This has been inevitable since the minute we figured out how to break up quarks en masse without a cyclotron."

  "What are you saying we ought to do? Just turn everything over to Reliant when it gets here?"

  "No! Gods, Del, no."

  "Sorry," Del said sincerely. He knew Vance better than that. "That was a stupid thing to say. I'm sorry."

  "I mean the exact opposite. Only … I don't really know what I mean by meaning the exact opposite. Except, we can't let them have it. No matter what."

  All of a sudden the lights started flashing on and off, on and off, and a siren howled. Vance jumped to his feet.

  "What the hell—!"

  "That's the emergency alarm!" Del said.

  They sprinted out of Del's office.

  Something must have happened when they tried to move Genesis, Del thought.

  Vance, with his longer stride, was ten meters ahead of him by the time they reached the main lab. He ran into the room—

  Two strangers stepped out of hiding and held phasers on him. He stopped and raised his hands but kept on walking forward, drawing their attention farther into the lab and away from the corridor. Del ducked into a doorway and pressed himself against the shadows, taking the chance his friend had given him.

  "What the hell is going on?" he heard Vance say. "Who are you people?"

  "We've come for Genesis."

  Damn, Del thought. We spent the last two days running around in a fit of paranoia about the military, and not one of us thought to wonder if they were telling the truth about arriving in three days.

  He opened the door behind him, slipped into the dark room, and locked the door. He felt his way to the communications console and keyed it on.

  "Hi, Del," David said cheerfully. "Can you wait a minute? We're just about to move."

  "No!" Del whispered urgently. "Dave, keep your voice down. They're here! They've got Vance and Zinaida."

  "What?"

  "They lied to us! They're here already. Get Genesis out, fast."

  He heard a strange noise in the corridor, searched his mind for what the sound could be, and identified it: a tricorder.

  "Dave, dammit, they're tracking me! Get Genesis out, and get out yourselves before they find you, too!"

  "But—"

  "Don't argue! Look, they're not gonna hurt us. What can they do? Maybe dump us in a brig someplace. Somebody's got to be loose to tell the Federation what's going on. To get us out if they try to keep us incommunicado. Go!"

  "Okay."

  Del slammed off the intercom and accessed the main computer. He had to wipe the memories before he got caught. The tricorder hummed louder.

  The computer came on line.

  "Ok," it said.

  "Liquid hydrogen tanks, purge protocol," Del said softly.

  The door rattled.

  "We know you're in there! Come out at once!"

  "That's a safeguarded routine," the computer said.

  "I know," Del said.

  "Ok. Which tanks do you wish to purge?"

  Somebody banged on the locked door, but it held.

  Del answered the computer's questions as quickly and as softly as he could speak. As a safety precaution, the liquid hydrogen tanks would not accept the purge command without several codes and a number of overrides. Del assured the program that he wanted everything purged except for one memory bath.

  The banging and thumping grew louder. He was almost done.

  "All right!" he yelled. "All right, I'm coming." They didn't hear him, or they didn't believe him, or they didn't care.

  "What?" the computer said.

  "I wasn't talking to you that time."

  "Ok. Codes acceptable. Safeguards overridden. Purge routine ready. Please say your identity password."

  "March Hare," Del said.

  "Ok. Purge initiated."

  A moment later, the computer's memory began to fail, and the system crashed.

  A laser-blaster exploded the door inward. The concussion nearly knocked Del to the floor. He grabbed at the console and turned it off. The screen's glow faded as the invaders rushed him.

  He raised his hands in surrender.

  The tanks were venting into space. In about one minute, nothing at all would be left in any of the station's computers. Except Mad Rabbit Productions' Boojum Hunt.

  Four strangers came through the ruined door, three with phasers, one with a blaster.

  "Come with us." The one with the blaster gestured toward the exit.

  Del raised his hands a little higher. "All right, all right," he said to her. "I told you I was coming."

  They herded him into the main lab. About twenty people guarded Vance, Zinaida, Jan, and Yoshi. The strangers, rough and wild, sure did not look like Starfleet personnel.

  Vance gave Del a questioning glance. Del nodded very slightly: mission accomplished.

  A white-haired, cruel-faced man stood up and approached them. Nearly as tall as Vance, he was arrogant and elegant despite his ragged clothing.

  "I've come for Genesis," he said. "Where is it?"

  "The scientists shipped out of here a couple hours ago," Vance said. "They didn't tell us where they went or what they took. We're just technicians."

  The leader of the group turned to one of his people.

  Del recognized Pavel Chekov, and cursed under his breath. Captain Terrell stood a bit farther back in the group. Neither appeared to be a prisoner—in fact, they both carried phasers.

  "Is this true, Mr. Chekov?"

  "No, Khan." Pale and blank-looking, Chekov spoke without expression.

  "Who is he?" Khan gestured toward Vance.

  "Dr. Vance Madison."

  Khan took a step toward him. Two of his people grabbed Vance's arms. Del saw what was coming and fought to go to Vance's aid. One of the people behind him put a choke-hold on him.

  Khan struck Vance a violent backhand blow to the face, flinging him against his captors. Dazed, Vance shook his head. He straightened up. A thin trickle of blood ran down his chin.

  "Do not lie to me again, Dr. Madison."

  Khan went back to questioning Chekov.

  "Who are these others?"

  Chekov said he did not know Yoshi or Jan, but he identified Zinaida and Del. Del tried to figure out what was going on. What were Chekov and Terrell doing with this bunch of pirates?

  "You can save yourselves a great deal of unpleasantness by cooperating," Khan said.

  No one spoke.

  "My lord—"

  "Yes, Joachim?"

  "There's nothing in the computer but this."

  Khan joined Joachim and gazed down at the computer screen. At first he smiled. That scared Del, because it indicated that Khan had either seen Carol's grant application, or otherwise knew a good deal about Genesis. The opening Boojum graphics closely resembled a Genesis simulation.

  Del looked across at Vance, worried about him.

  "You okay?"

  The woman behind Del tightened her hold on his throat, so he shut up. But Vance nodded. The dazed look, at least, had disappeared.

  Khan suddenly shouted, incoherent with rage. "A game!" he screamed. "What do you mean, a game!" Yoshi was the nearest to him of the station personnel.

  Khan swung around and grabbed him.

  "A game! Where is Genesis?" He picked Yoshi up and shook him violently.

  "I don't know!"

  "He's telling the truth! Leave him alone!" Vance struggled but could not get free.

  Khan set Yoshi down gently.

  "This one knows nothing of Genesis?" he asked kindly.

  "That's right. Whatever you're after, Jan and Yoshi have nothing to do with it. Leave them alone."

  Khan drew a knife from his belt. Before anyone unde
rstood what he planned, he grabbed Yoshi by the hair, jerked his head back, and cut his throat. Yoshi did not even cry out. Blood spurted across the room.

  Warm droplets spattered Del's cheek.

  "My god!"

  Someone—one of Khan's own people—screamed. Khan reached for Jan. Del wrenched himself out of his captors' hands and lunged. The knife flashed again. Jan's scream stopped suddenly and arterial blood sprayed out. Del grabbed Khan, who turned smoothly and expertly and sank his blade to its hilt in Del's side.

  "Del!" Vance cried.

  Del felt the warmth of the blade, but no pain: he thought it had slid along his skin just beneath his ribs.

  He grappled with Khan, straining to reach his throat, but he was outnumbered. Within a few seconds, they had powered him to the floor. That was the worst show he'd put up since the last time Vance dragged him drunk and stoned and bruised out of a bar and made him promise to quit mixing recreational drugs. He had kept the promise, too.

  Weird to remember that now.

  He pushed himself to his hands and knees.

  Someone kicked him.

  Del cried out in shock and surprise at the pain. He fell, then rolled over onto his back. The ceiling lights glared in his eyes. Everyone was staring at him, Khan with a faint smile. Del put his hand to his side, which should have ached, but which hurt with a high, throbbing pain.

  His hand came away soaked with blood. That was the first time he realized Khan had stabbed him.

  They dragged him to his feet. His knees felt weak and he was dizzy.

  Four people barely succeeded in holding Vance down.

  Khan stood just near enough to tempt Del to kick at him, just far enough away to make any attempt futile and stupid. Del pressed his hand hard against the knife wound. It was very deep. Blood flowed steadily against the pressure.

  Yoshi was dead, but Jan moved weakly, bleeding in pulsebeats. Someone moved to help him.

  "Leave him!" Khan snarled. "Let him die; he is worthless to me." He gestured at Del. "Hold his arms."

  They already held him tightly but they forced his hands behind his back. The wound bled more freely.

  Khan turned away and strolled to a nearby workbench. "Your laboratory is excellently equipped," he said matter-of-factly, while everyone else in the room, even his own people, stared horrified at Jan, slowly bleeding to death.

  "My gods," Vance whispered in fury. "You're insane!" He strained around. "Chekov! Terrell! You can't just stand there and let him die!"

  "Be quiet, Dr. Madison," Khan said easily. "My people and I do what we must; as for young Pavel here, and his captain—I own them. I intend to own you." He idly picked up a large tripod.

  "My lord Khan, yes!" Joachim said. "Control them completely! There are eels on Reliant, I'll return to the ship and get them—"

  "That will not be necessary, Joachim," Khan said. "Thank you for your suggestion."

  "Sir—"

  "Tie them up." He fiddled with the tripod.

  Khan's people dragged them to a smaller room down the corridor. There, they bound Zinaida and Vance to chairs. Del watched as if from a long distance. He could feel himself slipping down into shock. The whole side of his shirt and his left hip and thigh were soaked with blood. He could not believe what was happening. His reality had suddenly turned far more fantastic than any game he had ever invented.

  Del focused on the thought: At least Carol got Genesis away. She must have.

  Khan's followers flung a rope over the ceiling strut, then dragged Del beneath it and tied his hands. The rope jerked him upright and he cried out. When his feet barely touched the floor, they tied the other end of the rope to a built-in lab table.

  "Khan Singh, my lord," Joachim pleaded, "this effort is unnecessary. It would only take a moment—"

  "No. Our dear friend the admiral must know what I plan for him when he is in my grasp."

  "But, my lord—"

  Khan stopped in front of Del.

  "Leave us, Joachim."

  He had taken the tripod apart; now he held one of its legs, a steel rod half a meter long and a centimeter through.

  "Leave us!" He touched Del's face with his long, fine hand. Del tried to turn away, and Khan chuckled.

  His people left.

  Jan and Yoshi were dead.

  Khan Singh smiled.

  Vance struggled furiously against the ropes, cursing. Zinaida sat quietly with her eyes closed.

  Del met Khan's gaze. His expression was kind, almost pitying.

  "Tell me about Genesis, Dr. March."

  Del tried to take a breath. The knife wound radiated pain.

  "No. . . ." he said.

  Khan hardly moved. The steel rod flicked out and struck Del's side.

  It hurt so much Del could not even cry out. He gasped.

  "Don't!" Vance yelled. "For gods' sake, stop it!" Khan Singh did not even bother to ask another question. Slowly, methodically, with the precision of obsession, he beat Del unconscious.

  Joachim waited.

  Khan opened the door. He gripped Joachim by the shoulder.

  "We are close to the prize, Joachim. Dr. March will speak to me when he regains consciousness," he said. "Let it be soon, my friend."

  Joachim watched him stride away.

  He did not want to enter the lab. He had heard what was happening. He did not want to see it. But he obeyed.

  Dark streaks soaked through March's shirt where the steel rod, striking, had broken his skin. He had lost a great deal of blood, and the stab wound still bled slowly.

  Vance Madison raised his head.

  "If there's anything human left in you," he whispered, "untie me. Let me help him." His voice was hoarse.

  "I have no wish to die as your hostage." Joachim searched for March's pulse and found it only with difficulty. He was deep in shock. Left alone, he would soon die.

  Joachim found an injector in Reliant's portable medical kit. He chose the strongest stimulant it offered, pressed the instrument to the side of March's throat, and introduced the drug directly into the carotid artery.

  Del March shuddered and opened his eyes.

  Joachim had never seen such an expression before, so much pain and fear and bewilderment. He ran water onto a cloth and reached toward him. The young man flinched back.

  "I'm sorry," Joachim said. "I'll try not to hurt you." He gently wiped the sweat from March's face. He need not speak to him at all. But he said, again, "I'm sorry."

  Joachim had no excuse to delay Khan any longer. Nevertheless, he stopped before Madison and Chitirih-Ra-Payjh. Madison looked at him with the awful intensity of a gentle man driven to hatred.

  "Do you want some water?"

  "It's blood I want," Madison said. "Your leader's. Or yours."

  Joachim ignored the empty threat. He glanced at Chitirih-Ra-Payjh, who had not moved or spoken or opened her eyes.

  "Did Khan Singh question her?"

  Madison shook his head.

  "Tell him what he wants to know," Joachim said urgently. "He'll break one of you, eventually, and the pain will be for nothing."

  "You hate this!" Madison said. "You can't stand what he's doing! Help us stop him!"

  "I cannot."

  "How can you obey somebody like that? He's crazy, he's flat out of his mind!"

  Joachim came close to striking Madison, who had no idea what he was saying. For fifteen years Khan Singh had dedicated himself to the survival of his followers, when he himself had nothing left to live for. Nothing but revenge. Bitterness and hatred had overwhelmed him. Joachim held desperately to the conviction that when his vengeance was behind him, Khan could find himself again, that somehow, someday, Joachim would regain the man to whom he had sworn his loyalty and his life.

  "I gave my word," Joachim said.

  "When there's no one left," Madison said, "it's you he'll turn on. You must know that."

  "I will not oppose him!" Joachim bolted from the room.

  Del cringed, expecting Khan to re
turn immediately. But the door slid shut and remained so.

  Zinaida opened her eyes and stood up. She flung the ropes aside. Her wrists were raw. She untied Vance.

  "Del—" Vance lifted him so the strain on his arms eased. Blood rushed back into Del's hands, stinging hot. The world sparkled. Vance tried not to hurt him but any touch was like another blow. The stimulant made the pain more intense, and prevented his passing out again.

  Zinaida loosened the far end of the rope. Vance let him down as gently as he could.

  "Oh, gods, Vance, what the hell is happening?"

  "I don't know, little brother." He gave Del some water.

  They heard a noise from the hallway outside. Del froze.

  "I can't take any more—" He looked up at Vance, terrified. "If he starts on me again … I'm scared, Vance."

  "It's all right," Vance said desperately, "it's all right. I won't let him …" He stopped. They both knew it was a futile promise.

  Zinaida knelt beside them. She touched Del's forehead. Her hands were wondrously cool and soothing. She had never touched him before.

  She bent down and gently kissed his lips. Vance grabbed her shoulder and pulled her away.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Vance, even a Deltan cannot kill with one kiss," she said softly. "But I can give him … Vance, I can give him the strength to die. If he chooses."

  The strength to die. . . .

  Del felt his best friend shudder.

  "I—" Vance's voice caught.

  "Del, can you hear me?" Zinaida said.

  He nodded.

  "I'll do whatever you wish."

  "Please …" he whispered.

  She kissed him once more, then placed her fingertips along his temples. His pain increased, but the fear gradually disintegrated.

  Zinaida took her hands away. Del felt very weak, very calm. The stimulant had stopped working. Zinaida turned aside, trembling.

  They heard Khan outside, his words indistinguishable but his voice unmistakable. Del took a deep breath.

  "Damn, Vance," he whispered, "I would have liked to see your dragons."

  "Me too, little brother. Me too." He eased Del to the floor.

  The only times Vance had ever been hurt in a fight—the only times he ever got in fights—was getting his partner out of trouble. Del tried to reach out for him, to stop his doing anything stupid, to tell him it was too late.