To Reign in Hell: The Exile of Khan Noonien Singh

by Greg Cox

  She jabbed her spear at the turtle again, but her thrust missed its target, sliding off the mud-slick dorsal plates instead. Momentum almost carried her forward onto her face, but she threw herself backward at the last minute, only to land on her back less than a meter away from Zuleika. Like the other woman, she hastily positioned her spear between herself and the hissing turtle. Gasping fearfully, Marla had no reason to expect that her weapon would fare any better against the enraged reptile.

  The turtle hesitated, uncertain which tasty morsel to go for first. Its head swung back and forth between Marla and Zuleika, who each expected to be devoured at any moment. Despite the blood leaking from the monster’s throat, Marla knew their time was running out. This is it, she thought. We’re history.

  Abruptly, something else surfaced from the flooded riverbank. A gigantic upper jaw lined with knife-sized fangs opened up behind the monster turtle, then came crashing down on the unsuspected chelonian, chopping it in two. A huge scaly snout tossed the bisected turtle into the air, swallowing first one half, then the other. Slitted yellow eyes, with vertical pupils, gleamed with cold-blooded satisfaction, then turned their implacable gaze on the two vulnerable women.

  Marla instantly recognized the head and forequarters of a full-grown supercrocodile. Its cruel saurian features resembled a Gorn’s, only six or seven times larger. Despite the croc’s timely intervention, Marla knew that they had merely exchanged one predator for another even deadlier. Her paltry spear was nothing but a toothpick compared with the sheer immensity of the tremendous reptile.

  The crocodile finished off the last of the turtle, then slid toward Marla. Silty water streamed from the dorsal crests running along its back. Marla took aim at the creature’s right eye, determined not to surrender her life without a fight. She drew back the spear for one last desperate thrust.

  Then, without warning, a coruscating beam of scarlet energy lit up the murky scene. The beam struck the crocodile squarely in the side, incinerating it instantly.

  Marla looked to see Khan standing on an grassy rise overlooking the river. His raised phaser was still aimed at the now-empty place the supercroc had occupied only a heartbeat ago. There were other colonists accompanying him, but Marla only had eyes for Khan, who looked even more magnificent than she remembered, like Perseus rescuing Andromeda from the sea monster.

  I don’t believe it, she thought, tears of joy streaming down her face. He didn’t abandon me after all.

  Moments later, she felt his strong hands lifting her from the muck. She gratefully relinquished her spear to Parvati Rao, as Khan helped her back up the hill. Not far away, Dr. Hawkins and the Katzel twins tended to the injured Zuleika.

  “Forgive me,” Khan entreated her. A blanket was thrown over her tattered uniform. “I should have listened to you more attentively, and heeded your counsel.” She heard regret in his voice. “I should have never forced you to take such risks.”

  It was worth it, Marla thought. She had proven something to Khan—and to herself. She could stand up to Khan without necessarily losing him. They could clash and still come back together again. Now, at long last, she knew for certain that their love was strong enough to overcome the vast differences in their histories and temperaments. I can be his conscience, she resolved, and he can be my strength.

  Together, there’s nothing we can’t endure.

  12

  SIX MONTHS AFTER DAY ONE

  “I now pronounce you partners for life.”

  Nearly the entire colony had gathered outside the camp for a mass wedding presided over by Khan himself, who stood beside Marla atop a sturdy wooden dais erected for the occasion. Garlands of brightly colored flowers festooned the platform, adding a suitably festive touch, while a trio of musicians played a lively raga on handcrafted wooden instruments.

  Khan smiled, looking out over rows and rows of paired colonists. Two by two, they stood in a cleared field awaiting his blessing. It was a cool, clear day in New Chandigarh, typical of the mild weather that had graced the colony since the end of the rainy season. Sunlight radiated through a majestic blue sky, and a gentle breeze rustled through the veils and flowers adorning the various brides.

  All is well, he thought. “Be fruitful and multiply,” he exhorted his people.

  His injunction was hardly necessary; many of the women assembled before him were already pregnant, the couples having paired off quickly over the last six months. New Chandigarh’s population now consisted of thirty-nine men and thirty women, resulting in a total of thirty-four couples, counting two male-male pairings. That left five men still un-attached, Khan noted; a potential source of tension, unless a few of the women ended up widowed—which, given the hazards of life on Ceti Alpha V, was a very real possibility.

  For the moment, however, he preferred to focus on the celebration at hand. Among the newly wedded couples, he glimpsed the ever-faithful Joaquin, now united with none other than Suzette Ling, whom Khan believed to be already with child. Excellent, Khan thought, looking forward to the birth of a brand new generation of superhuman beings, the first to be conceived on Ceti Alpha V.

  Harulf Ericsson had found a bride as well—Karyn Bradley, whom he had bonded with over the course of various hunting expeditions. Khan judged this a good thing; perhaps domestic bliss would curb the Norseman’s dissident tendencies. Certainly, Khan had not wanted Ericsson fomenting rebellion among the remaining single males, whom were likely to be discontented enough as was. I must take pains to reward those men with other privileges, he thought. Perhaps extra rations or opportunities for advancement?

  Sitar and shenai music played in the background as Khan basked in the jubilation of his people. He had donned his finest attire for the occasion, a golden Nehru jacket sporting an embroidered honeycomb pattern; it was, he recalled, the same outfit he had worn to his state dinner aboard the Enterprise. Now, as then, his hair was tied neatly in the back, exposing his regal brow.

  From his elevated vantage point, he could view acres of crops rustling in the fields outside the walled encampment. Wheat, oats, barley, corn, and rice, all growing from Earth-born seeds stored aboard the Botany Bay. Later, perhaps, there would be time to experiment with the native flora, in search of viable foodstuffs, but for now he chose to rely on proven staples from Earth. We must plant soybeans next, he reminded himself, to replenish the soil.

  Planted in the immediate wake of the monsoon, the terrestrial crops appeared to be growing successfully, despite a never-ending battle against indigenous pests and weeds. Thornbush fences served to protect the fields from the larger herbivores, even if it was still not safe to dwell outside the camp after dark. Thankfully, the sabertooths had little interest in corn or rice.

  Khan estimated a good harvest in another three months or so. Perhaps then, he reflected, he would be able to increase his people’s daily rations, which still remained barely above subsistence levels. A hard life, but a good one, he mused, pleased with the colony’s progress. For where he stood, New Chandigarh looked to be, if not yet thriving, then on the verge of doing so. We are carving out an empire here, precisely as I envisioned.

  A gentle hand reached over and squeezed his own. “For-getting something?” Marla teased.

  “Never,” he assured her, turning his gaze from the ripening fields to his own beauteous bride. As was only fitting, Khan intended his own nuptials to serve as the grand finale of the day’s festivities.

  Marla looked suitably ravishing in a metallic-silver sari stitched together from the fire blanket that had saved her life. A touch of gold piping around the hem was all that remained of her storm-ravaged Starfleet uniform. Borrowed golden mesh, salvaged from the Botany Bay’s hibernation suits, served as a veil. Fresh-cut flowers were braided into her auburn hair, no doubt with the expert assistance of her two eager bridesmaids, Parvati Rao and Zuleika Walker. The latter, ironically enough, was now one of Marla’s closest friends, despite having tried to kill her many months before. Their joint banishment, as unjust as it
had proven to be, had yielded that benefit at least.

  Neither woman occupied the dais, as both were currently accompanying their own grooms in the field below, but Khan spotted them beaming encouragement to Marla from the first row of married couples. Their respective spouses, Rodriguez and Talbot, looked more than pleased with their catches.

  As well they should be, Khan thought.

  Still, as lovely as the two grinning superwomen were, in their own individual fashions, Khan knew that Marla easily surpassed them both. A superior woman, he judged once more, despite her humble genetic origins. Sometimes, it seems, the random shuffling of ordinary chromosomes can produce a masterpiece. His own mother, after all, had been conceived in the traditional manner, but her formidable intellect and vision had given birth to the Chrysalis Project.

  Marla herself was not yet with child, but Khan was in no hurry. In truth, he hoped to see the first few harvests brought safely to fruition before exposing an heir to the uncertain fortunes of this alien world. Better to tame the vast wilderness before siring a dynasty….

  “Friends, comrades!” he addressed the crowd, without letting go of Marla’s hand. “My heart shares your joy on this happiest of days. Now bear witness as I gladly join my destiny to the woman standing beside me.”

  The jubilant cheers that greeted his declaration had the ring of sincerity; Marla’s standing in New Chandigarh had risen significantly since she’d made her heroic stand in defense of Zuleika. Even Joaquin seemed somewhat less suspicious of Marla, although Khan had largely given up hope of Joaquin and Marla ever becoming friends.

  In addition, her historical knowledge of frontier colonies, both on Earth and beyond, had proven invaluable to the struggling colony. It was Marla, for example, who had first suggested that the fledgling farmers fertilize their fields with potash, derived from the ashes of burnt timber. She had also recommended that they turn over the sod, just as the original Botany Bay colonists had, so that the wild grass and weeds could compost into the soil before the sowing of the precious Terran seeds.

  The truth of the matter was that, despite their enhanced intelligence and educations, very few of Khan’s people had much hands-on experience with primitive agriculture; they were all warriors and scientists and technocrats. We have been fortunate to have Marla among us, Khan acknowledged.

  He turned toward his bride, who clutched a bouquet of alien blossoms to her chest. Her radiant face, bronzed by months of arduous labor beneath the sun, managed to blush endearingly. She smiled back at him.

  “Marla Madlyn McGivers,” he began. Although raised as a Sikh, albeit a fairly secular one, Khan was inclined to create his own traditions, and, as there was no one on Ceti Alpha V whose authority exceeded his own, he found it altogether proper that he officiate over his own wedding. “Do you take I, Khan Noonien Singh, as your lawfully wedded husband, to share the bounty and adversities of this brave new world as my one and only queen?”

  Marla’s brown eyes glistened wetly. Her hand trembled in his. “I do,” she answered without hesitation.

  “I accept your pledge,” he said solemnly, “and make one of my own, that I will honor, cherish, and protect you all the days of my life.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved an ivory ring, painstakingly carved from the tusk of a sabertooth. Their intertwined names were engraved on the ring’s polished interior. “I give you this ring as a pledge of my eternal love.”

  A pang of regret stung him. Back on Earth, he could have lavished precious jewels and fine silks upon Marla; here on Ceti Alpha V, he had to make do with far cruder materials.

  Not that Marla seemed to care. She choked back an ecstatic sob as he deftly slipped the handmade ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, just as Khan knew it would.

  Hands linked, they turned to face the assembly. “Brothers, sisters,” Khan proclaimed proudly, “I present you with Marla McGivers Singh!”

  Applause and celebratory shouts rang out across the field, even as Khan lifted Marla’s golden veil and bent to impart a loving kiss.

  Before their lips could touch, however, a frantic cry of alarm cut through the cheers and clapping. Khan looked up in anger. Who dares disrupt this sacred moment?

  His searching eyes quickly located the source of the disturbance. A gigantic bison had invaded the ceremony, sending the rows of couples running madly for safety. An adult bull, whose curved horns looked to be a full three meters long from tip to tip, stampeded wildly into the empty field. Its shaggy head and humped shoulders bore a carpet of matted black fur. Bloodshot eyes blazed with bestial fury. Foam dripped from its frothing snout.

  “What in the world?” Marla whispered.

  Khan stepped protectively in front of her. “Stay back,” he warned, raising his phaser, which never left his person, not even on the day of his wedding. He tried to take aim at the charging bison, which was zigzagging erratically across the field, making it difficult to target. Wretched animal! he thought, furious at the beast for spoiling the moment. I’ll blast you out of existence!

  Marla laid a restraining hand upon his arm. “Khan, wait. There’s something wrong with it.”

  Khan hesitated. There was something to what Marla was saying. The bison behaved as though it were deranged, chasing frenziedly after seemingly invisible tormentors. It tossed its titanic skull from side to side, impaling the empty air upon its horns, and clawed at the ground with its hooves. Clearly, something had driven it completely insane.

  “Yes,” he agreed, nodding at Marla. If the beast was infected with some unknown pathogen, he wanted a specimen left for analysis. He ratcheted down the phaser’s setting, so as to kill but not disintegrate.

  It came charging directly at the dais, giving Khan the perfect opportunity. He calmly pulled the trigger and watched as the crimson beam struck the bull directly between its rolling, red eyes. The creature fell heavily onto the soil, joining the trampled bouquets and veils littering the field. Scattered colonists, seeing the bison fall, halted their headlong flight, and began inching back toward the wedding grounds.

  Khan moved faster than any of them. Leaping from his platform, he rushed to the carcass. He kept his phaser ready, just in case the beast was playing possum, but, on closer inspection, the bison appeared to be well and truly dead. He knelt by the animal’s head, then jumped backward in surprise.

  Something gray and slimy was emerging from one of the dead bull’s tufted ears.

  “What?” he exclaimed.

  The escaping parasite was only a few centimeters long and coated with blood and mucus. Chitinous gray scales covered its body and a tiny red tongue flicked out from between a pair of evil-looking pincers. Segmented legs propelled the tiny creature onto the dirt at Khan’s feet.

  He instantly recognized the revolting parasite for what it was: a miniature version of the so-called Ceti “eel.” In fact, the dangerous life-form was closer to a mollusk, but someone early on had described one of the creature’s larvae as an eel and the name had stuck. By any name, the colonists had quickly learned to watch out for the “eels” and their vicious pincers.

  But what was this immature mollusk doing inside the dead bull’s skull? Could it be the reason for the bison’s apparent madness?

  The slimy creature wriggled toward Khan. He was tempted to crush it beneath his heel, but he drew his dagger and speared it on the knife’s point instead. The twitching eel was pinned to the ground like a captured butterfly.

  A crowd of onlookers had gathered to witness Khan’s inspection of the dead bull. “A container!” he demanded, and Keith Talbot, Zuleika’s groom, came forward with a carved wooden goblet, no doubt intended for the postwedding refreshments. The athletic, dark-skinned Canadian had once analyzed spy photos as part of Khan’s intelligence force. Khan accepted the cup gratefully and transferred the trapped eel to the container, being careful to keep the parasite safely stuck upon his blade.

  “Should I get my tricorder?” Marla asked, appearing at his side. Unlike Khan and his weapons, she had
not thought to bring scientific equipment to her wedding.

  Khan shook his head. “Perhaps later.”

  Raising his gaze from the wooden goblet, he swiftly located Dr. Gideon Hawkins among the spectators. “I want you to perform an immediate autopsy on this bull,” he told the doctor, gesturing toward the immense carcass. “And take a look at this eel as well.”

  Marla had once told Khan of the various bovine and other animal-based diseases that had contaminated Earth’s food chain not long after the Eugenics Wars. He had no intention of letting a similar epidemic endanger the colony’s food supply, especially since he had long-range plans to domesticate the native megabison. “I want to know what was wrong with this animal—and as soon as possible.”

  Hawkins sighed, no doubt seeing his wedding night plans evaporating before his eyes. The doctor’s new partner was a onetime professional cricket player named Panjabi. “Yes, Your Excellency,” he acceded without argument. “I’ll get right on it, although I admit veterinary medicine is a bit out of my field.”

  Khan had no doubt the expert surgeon would do his best. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said graciously. “My apologies for calling you away from your worthy spouse.”

  Rising from his kneeling position, he turned toward Marla. “My apologies to you as well. This cannot be the wedding day you envisioned.”

  Marla shrugged and smiled ruefully. “That’s Ceti Alpha V for you. Always full of surprises.” Her gaze fell upon the cup in Khan’s hand—and the bloody eel trapped therein. Her smile faded and she shuddered involuntarily.

  “Damn, I don’t like those things,” she admitted.

  Khan could hardly blame her.

  “… despite the disruption caused by the insane bison, today’s weddings marked a historic turning point in the development of New Chandigarh, symbolizing the entire colony’s mutual commitment to building a new future on Ceti Alpha V. A more superstitious perspective might see the bull’s intrusion as a bad omen, but I prefer to take a more positive outlook. The joint ceremony bonded us as a community, just as Khan intended.”