To Reign in Hell: The Exile of Khan Noonien Singh (15 page)

Even after three hundred years, Ament’s betrayal still rankled, but Khan had never made the mistake of equating that feline traitoress, long dead by Joaquin’s hand, with Marla. They were two very different women. Indeed, they could be truly said to be not even of the same species.

“So, you see, Your Excellency,” Patil insisted, “I sought only to rid you of an inferior specimen who stood between you and your greatness.” Only Joaquin’s unbreakable grip kept the confessed arsonist from dropping onto his knees to beg for his life. “Perhaps I erred, but, I beg of you, do not condemn me for an excess of loyalty to your cause!”

But Khan had already stopped listening to the security officer’s excuses. Marla, and the possibility that she might still be alive, was all that concerned him now. Intent on finding her, he casually withdrew the silver dagger from his belt and thrust it directly into Patil’s heart.

The man convulsed once, then expelled his last breath. Joaquin checked the pulse at Patil’s throat, confirming that he was dead, then dropped the corpse onto the muddy ground beside the blackened ruins of the shed. The rest of the salvage team watched the execution in stunned silence.

Khan did not bother to address the crowd. His mind was kilometers away, where Marla and Zuleika faced every manner of peril Ceti Alpha V had to offer. “Hurry!” he called out to Joaquin. “Gather a search party. Get every man or woman the camp can spare. We must set out at once.”

“But, Your Excellency!” Joaquin protested. “The Starfleet woman defied your will!”

“With good reason, it appears,” Khan stated. “I am not so proud that I do not know when I have made a mistake. Do as I instruct.”

The bodyguard appeared less than enthusiastic at the prospect of Marla’s return, but not enough to defy a direct order from his master. “As you command,” he assented, and hurried to round up the search party.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The sky darkened dramatically, and a heavy rain began to fall. A hot, humid wind blew against his face, and Khan recognized the long-awaited onset of the monsoon.

No matter,
he resolved, even though the sudden downpour left his dark hair plastered to his skull. The camp was well prepared for the rain, being safely distant from the riverbank, but he knew the surrounding countryside was awash with dry riverbeds that would rapidly fill with water. Storm or no storm, he would not rest until he found Marla again.

Perhaps it was not too late to save her.

Swept along by the flood, Marla fought to gain some control over her watery tumbling even as the surging torrent punched its way through the grass and scrub, rushing downhill toward the River Kaur. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity being tossed about like flotsam, she sensed the current begin to slacken as the natural gully widened and leveled off, causing the cataract to spread itself thinner. A stand of palms swayed before the force of the flood, and Marla managed to halt her progress by wedging the shaft of her spear between two unyielding saplings.

The besieged trees bent but did not break. Marla gripped the horizontal spear with white knuckles, letting the worst of the torrent pass over her until at last the fleeting water left her behind, lying facefirst upon the muddy underbrush, gasping for breath.
I did it!
she thought, amazed at her own survival.
I’m still here
.

But what about Zuleika?

The sudden cloudburst had faded to a drizzle, giving Marla a chance to catch her breath. Drenched and exhausted, she climbed slowly onto her knees, then leaned on her spear as she dragged herself up to a standing position. Gallons of water seemed to stream from her soaked hair and shredded uniform, joining the muck beneath her feet. The faded red fabric of her Starfleet uniform hung in tatters upon her shaking frame. Amazingly, her pistol was still secured to her belt, which struck her as nothing short of miraculous.

She turned toward the Kaur, looking for Zuleika. At first all she saw was uprooted bushes and branches, but then she spotted a sludge-covered figure at the very edge of the Kaur, which seemed to have swollen beyond its usual boundaries, flooding the surrounding banks.
Great for agriculture,
Marla noted,
but maybe not all that safe for the two of us
.

Never mind keeping a safe distance from the river. The Kaur had come to them.

“Zuleika!” Marla called to the prone figure.
You can’t be dead,
she thought anxiously.
You’re a superwoman, remember?
Marla couldn’t believe that she was running to the rescue of her worst enemy. She doubted Khan would approve. “Can you hear me?”

The downed Amazon lifted her head in response to
Marla’s cry. She started to lift herself from the mire, then collapsed, wincing in pain. “I think I broke a rib,” she gasped. Her spear lay by her side, proof that Zuleika had also managed to hang on to a weapon during their tumultuous ride down the flooded valley. Her machete, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Marla tried to imagine what kind of impact could have fractured one of Zuleika’s superdense bones.
Must have been hit dead-on by a floating tree trunk,
she guessed,
or maybe she bounced off a boulder on her way down. Probably would have killed me…
.

“Hold on!” she called to the other woman. Using her spear as a cane, she descended toward the river, trying hard not to lose her balance upon the muddy ground, which oozed disconcertingly beneath her boots. “I’ll be right there!”

She hoped Zuleika wasn’t too badly injured. The odds against their continued survival were bad enough already. She could only pray that the superwoman’s recuperative abilities were as enhanced as the rest of her.

But as she hurried to reach Zuleika, something else got there first.

Marla’s eyes widened in alarm as a huge, muck-encrusted mass rose out of the turbid water at Zuleika’s feet: a monstrous river turtle the size and shape of an inverted bathtub. A curved beak gaped open, revealing rows of pointed yellow teeth. The prehistoric chelonian was quite obviously a carnivore—and very hungry.

“Behind you!” Marla shrieked, alerting Zuleika barely in time.

Snatching up her spear, Zuleika rolled onto her back and thrust the point of the lance into the monster’s beak. The
turtle hissed angrily, and a musky odor filled the air. The beak snapped shut, breaking the spear in two. The creature shook its head wildly, trying to dislodge the business end of the spear from its gullet. Zuleika dragged herself backward through the mud, desperate to distance herself from the mammoth alien.

Marla took advantage of the animal’s distraction to draw her gun. Was the antique firearm powerful enough to penetrate the turtle’s bony shell? Marla wasn’t sure, so she aimed for the turtle’s exposed head.

She pulled the trigger—and nothing happened.

What?
Her heart plummeted as she realized that the flood had somehow rendered the ancient pistol inoperative, and at the worst possible moment.

By now, the monster turtle had disgorged the offending speartip, and was once more advancing on Zuleika. Four massive claws propelled it through the mud and its head extended out from its shell, like a cobra striking out from beneath a concealing boulder. Zuleika screamed and jabbed at the head with the bottom of her broken wooden shaft, as the fanged beak snapped viciously at the air.

Marla ran toward the unequal battle, splashing through the mud. She lunged between the giant turtle and Zuleika, and began thrusting her own spear at the fleshy opening beneath the monster’s carapace. The turtle’s head whipped around savagely at the end of its snakelike neck, attempting to take a bite out of its new attacker. Cold reptilian blood spilled onto the mucky ground, adding a bright crimson tint to the reddish brown quagmire. Marla felt like a cave-woman locked in some primeval struggle for survival.

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.

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.