To Reign in Hell: The Exile of Khan Noonien Singh

by Greg Cox

  “Thank you, Mr. Chekov,” Khan said, smiling slyly. “But that will not be necessary.” Extending his arms in front of him, he clenched his fists tightly and exerted his strength. His eyes narrowed in concentration and a grimace twisted his lips as he pitted his more-than-human sinews against the impregnable steel cuffs. Twenty-third-century alloys surrendered with a metallic shriek as his bonds twisted and snapped apart, freeing his hands without assistance from Chekov or any other mortal.

  That’s better, Khan thought. He enjoyed the startled expressions of his captors. Let them not forget my true superiority.

  The Russian gulped, even as the wary security officers shifted into a higher state of alertness. A half-dozen phasers pointed in Khan’s direction, but their regal target showed no sign of alarm. Calmly, unhurriedly, he raised his empty palms to demonstrate that he meant Chekov no harm.

  Flustered, the young ensign handed Khan the electronic key anyway, then turned toward Marla. Pity softened Chekov’s expression as he addressed his soon-to-be-former crewmate. “Er … some of your friends aboard the Enterprise asked me to give this to you,” he said, producing a small object wrapped in crinkly metallic foil. “To remember us by.”

  Khan looked on as Marla accepted the item, which turned out to be a silver medallion in the shape of the Starfleet emblem. Marla appeared touched by the gift, and her voice, when she spoke, was hoarse with emotion. “Thank you so much!” A sad smile lifted her lips. “It’s comforting to know that not everyone on the ship hates me.”

  “Hate you? Nyet! No one hates you,” Chekov insisted, perhaps a bit too quickly. Judging from scowls and stony glares of the red-shirted security guards, Khan suspected that the young Russian was not being entirely truthful. No doubt many of Marla’s onetime comrades now regarded her as a traitor and a disgrace to her uniform. Khan only hoped that she did not see herself the same way.

  I shall see to it, he pledged, that she comes to know that she chose wisely. She shall have no regrets.

  “Are you sure about this, Lieutenant?” Chekov asked Marla, obviously reluctant to leave her behind with Khan and the others. “It’s not too late to change your mind.” He watched her face carefully for evidence of second thoughts. “Once the Enterprise leaves, you could be stranded here forever.”

  Khan bristled at the youth’s presumption. How dare this pup attempt to subvert Marla’s allegiance, as if linking her destiny to my own is such a doleful fate? He opened his mouth to rebuke the impertinent ensign, but Marla spoke first.

  “I appreciate your concern, Pavel, but it’s all right.” She looked up at Khan without a trace of indecision. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Chekov nodded grimly. “Then there’s only one thing left to do,” he announced. He removed a phaser pistol from his belt and handed the powerful firearm over to Khan. “To defend yourself against hostile life-forms,” he explained, “along with the antique guns and weapons stored aboard the Botany Bay.”

  “Excellent,” Khan declared. Even outnumbered as he was, it felt good to have a weapon in his hand once more. “Tell Captain Kirk I am grateful for his foresight.”

  With no further business to conduct, Chekov and the other Starfleet personnel did not waste time returning to their ship. Khan watched in silence as the Enterprise reclaimed its own with a flourish of shimmering incandescent energy. In his mind’s eye, he imagined Kirk upon the bridge, giving the command that would send his magnificent starship hurtling away from Ceti Alpha V, toward the distant reaches of the galaxy.

  Khan allowed himself a fleeting moment of regret. If only Kirk had not managed to regain control of Enterprise…! It would have been good to be in command of such a vessel, complete with its awe-inspiring phasers and photon torpedoes. The Botany Bay had been state-of-the-art when stolen from Area 51 back in 1996, but the Enterprise made his primitive sleeper ship seem like a rowboat in comparison. Who knew what sort of interstellar empire he might have carved with such a fearsome warship at his disposal?

  But that was not to be.

  Very well, he thought, turning his back on the past. Ceti Alpha V was his future now, and he was determined to make the best of it. Milton’s immortal words came at once to his mind: “The world was all before them, where to choose their place of rest, and Providence their guide.”

  Taking a deep breath of the hot and arid air, Khan surveyed his new domain. With an entire planet’s worth of landing sites to choose from, great care had been taken in his selection of this particular location. Located in the planet’s southern hemisphere, this particular geographic region was not unlike the fertile Indus River valley that had served as the birthplace of Indian civilization. The nearby river was bounded on both sides by endless kilometers of semitropical grasslands. In theory, according to planetary modeling conducted back aboard the Enterprise, their proximity to the river would lend itself to agriculture, especially after the coming rainy season, while the sprawling veldt no doubt abounded with fresh game—as well as, he took care to remember, the attendant predators.

  It appeared, in short, an altogether fitting place to found a dynasty, and to commence his inevitable reign over the entire planet.

  Let us begin, he thought.

  No longer separated from his people by the intrusive Starfleet myrmidons, Khan strode toward the waiting throng: his genetically enhanced brothers and sisters from the distant years of the twentieth century. The surviving crew of the S.S. Botany Bay had followed him from the dark days of the Eugenics Wars into an unknown future, in search of new worlds to conquer. Forty-one men, not counting himself, plus some thirty women besides Marla. Looking over the crowd, whose simple attire resembled his own, he spotted the faces of many of his most loyal lieutenants: Suzette Ling, Liam MacPherson, Vishwa Patil, and, of course, his faithful bodyguard from the old days, Joaquin Weiss.

  The latter, a looming giant of man whose stolid expression was as blank and emotionless as a block of granite, stepped forward from the crowd, taking his place beside Khan as though the centuries they had spent in suspended animation had never transpired. Long ago, Khan had liberated Joaquin from an Israeli prison, where the belligerent superman had been serving a life sentence for multiple assaults and homicide, and Khan knew that the brawny, brown-haired bodyguard would gladly die before letting any harm come to him.

  “Greetings, my old friend,” Khan said, grasping Joaquin’s beefy arm. “Together again, just as before.”

  Joaquin grunted in agreement.

  Letting go of the bodyguard’s arm, Khan raised his voice to address his people. “Friends, comrades, fellow explorers, our time has come! Did I not promise you a new world, fresh and unspoiled and ripe for the taking? Across vast spans of time and space, we have at long last arrived at our glorious destination. Here, upon this virgin planet, we will plant our seed and build a civilization—a truly superior society—such as the universe has never seen before!”

  Cheers rose from most, but not all, of the assembled castaways. Khan noted the discrepancy, but made no mention of it … yet.

  “But first we must prove our worthiness to survive,” he continued. “These early days will not be easy. We shall have to struggle to find food and shelter, and this alien world surely contains dangers that we can scarcely imagine. But I promise you, my brethren, follow me and I will lead you to greatness once more!”

  “Like you did back on Earth?” a sarcastic voice called out. “Like you did aboard the Enterprise?”

  Khan’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. “Who speaks?” he demanded coldly. “Show yourself.”

  A tall blond figure emerged from the crowd. Khan recognized Harulf Ericsson, a Scandinavian superman who had served as one of Khan’s foreign operatives back on Earth. With a leonine mane of bright yellow hair, a fulsome beard, and a powerfully muscled physique, Ericsson was the very picture of his Viking ancestors. “I speak,” he declared with distinct Norwegian accent. “And not just for myself.”

  Glowering murderously, Joaquin lurched toward
Ericsson, but Khan held up his hand. “No,” he said sternly. “Let him continue.”

  Ericsson needed no encouragement to voice his insolent slander. “Why should we follow you again, Khan, when you’ve led us to nothing but disaster! We fled Earth in defeat, driven off our own planet by our inferiors, and all because we mistakenly placed our faith in you. Then we spent centuries lost in space, trapped in cryogenic suspension, while our ship’s life-support systems failed and many of our valiant comrades perished in their sleep! Then, finally, you revive us to capture the Enterprise, only to be defeated by Kirk and his minions—including her!”

  He cast an accusing finger at Marla, who trembled but refused to shrink before Ericsson’s vitriol. Khan smiled, proud of her for standing her ground.

  In truth, he had been anticipating a challenge of this sort. Superior abilities ofttimes led to superior ambitions, and Khan had guessed that it would be only a matter of time before one of his followers sought to unseat him. Now, at least, he knew from which direction the threat came.

  “I see,” Khan responded, reining in his justifiable outrage. “Have you forgotten what became of the rest of the Children of Chrysalis?” he asked, referring to the top-secret project that had created Khan and the rest of his genetically engineered kin. “They are all long gone, exterminated centuries ago by fearful humans, who outnumbered them billions to one. We are all that survive of that noble breed, thanks to my bold decision to abandon Earth and strike out for a new homeworld somewhere in the stars. You, Harulf Ericsson, are alive only because I granted you a niche aboard the Botany Bay.” Khan clasped his hands above his heart. “Your gratitude,” he said sarcastically, “overwhelms me.”

  Ericsson scowled at Khan’s gibe, unwilling to surrender just yet. “You may have been our leader back on Earth,” he conceded, “but that was centuries and light-years ago.” He glanced warily at the phaser lodged in Khan’s belt, but kept on speaking, egged on by others of like sympathies, who clustered behind Ericsson like jackals hungering for a lion’s kill. “A new world requires a new leader,” he called out to Khan. “Why should that leader be you?”

  “Because I am Khan!” Had there been a podium before him, Khan would have shattered it with his fist. Instead he looked away from Ericsson and his lurking band of jackals in order to speak directly to his people as a whole. “It has been said that to conquer without risk is to triumph without glory. We have suffered reverses, true, and grievous losses, but that is always the case when brave pioneers dare to open up a new frontier. It has cost us much to reach this shore, and yet more sacrifices may be demanded of us, but immortality lies within our grasp as well. Let us unite our efforts to forge a mighty empire!”

  On Earth, back in the twentieth century, dissension and power struggles between the Children of Chrysalis had led invariably to the Eugenics Wars, with disastrous results for all. Khan had spent literally years caught up in a global struggle against his fellow superhumans. He did not intend to let history repeat itself.

  He removed the phaser from his belt and openly handed it to Marla. I need no weapon to squash this petty insurrection, he thought scornfully. Only the force of my own unyielding will.

  “Every one of you swore allegiance to me more than three hundred years ago,” he reminded the assemblage. “But if anyone wishes to contest my rightful authority, let them step forward now … and wrest it from me with their bare hands!”

  He locked eyes with Ericsson, silently daring the rebellious Norseman to make his move. Long seconds passed, as the entire planet itself seemed to hold its breath. Flanked by Joaquin on one side and Marla on the other, Khan faced his challenger unarmed. Part of him hoped that Ericsson would take the bait, so that he might nip this incipient mutiny in the bud. “Now ‘tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted,” he thought, recalling Shakespeare’s immortal wisdom. “Suffer them now and they’ll overgrow the garden.”

  But Ericsson was not so bold. He stayed where he stood, glaring at Khan in sullen silence, until the moment passed and it became clear that Khan had won the day.

  “So be it,” he said triumphantly, reclaiming the phaser from Marla. Perhaps it is just as well, he mused; his people’s numbers were not so great that he could afford to sacrifice an able-bodied man so readily. Our colony will need a diverse genetic pool to prosper, and every man and woman here possesses a unique combination of superior chromosomes that must be preserved for the benefit of generations to come.

  Choosing to be magnanimous in victory, Khan stretched out his arms to symbolically encompass the fertile valley surrounding them, even as his memory harkened back to his vanished capital in northern India. “Welcome, my people, to New Chandigarh, birthplace of the glorious Khanate of Ceti Alpha V!”

  Cheers rose from a majority of the gathered castaways, some, to be sure, more heartfelt and sincere than others. Ericsson and his treacherous coterie, foiled in their initial attempt at a coup d’état, dispersed back into the relative anonymity of the crowd, but Khan knew that he had almost certainly not heard the last of the bearded Norseman. I shall have to keep a close watch on that one.

  For now, however, securing the basic essentials of survival took precedence. “Ling,” he instructed the Asian super-woman, who had served on his personal security force back on Earth. “Take a dozen volunteers and begin collecting firewood. Patil, take a team down to the river to gather water. Remember, we shall have to boil the water before drinking it. MacPherson, let us discuss the matter of shelter….”

  There was much to do before nightfall.

  4

  Sunset found a rudimentary campsite in place just beyond the banks of the river, which Khan had already christened the River Kaur, after his martyred mother, the architect of the Chrysalis Project. At Khan’s direction, a swatch of open ground had been hacked out from the chest-deep grass, creating a floor of reddish brown dirt about fifty meters in diameter. A wall of thornbush, uprooted by hand, surrounded the camp in hopes of deterring whatever hostile life-forms might prowl the veldt at night, while armed guards had been posted to watch out for any nocturnal predators. A dozen smoky campfires blazed within the enclosure, providing light and heat as well as an added degree of protection. Stars glittered like dilithium in the deep purple sky.

  “I feel as though I have traveled backward in time,” Marla dictated into her tricorder, completing her description of the settlement, “perhaps to the founding of the original Botany Bay colony in eighteenth-century Australia….”

  That settlement, she recalled, had been populated by convicts deported from England, the women all convicted thieves and prostitutes. As a disgraced Starfleet officer, I would have fit right in.

  Guilt, fear, and an undeniable excitement warred within her soul. Although she would always regret betraying Captain Kirk and the others, she found herself thrilled by the prospect of building a new life with Khan. All her life she had felt out of place in her own time, dreaming of the great deeds—and great men—of the past. Now at last she would be making history, alongside one of the most dynamic and charismatic figures in human history: Khan Noonien Singh.

  She was not naive. As a historian, she knew just how difficult and dangerous their new life would be. The first generation of colonists at Botany Bay had lived on the knife edge of starvation for nearly five years, while they struggled to eke a living from the foreign soil, and many of the original settlers had not survived at all, succumbing to disease, hunger, and even cannibalism.

  But they did not have a Khan to lead them! Marla reminded herself fiercely. She had faith in him. Together they would prevail over everything Ceti Alpha V had to offer. It will all be worth it, as long as we have each other.

  She peered at the lighted display panel of her tricorder as she strolled across the camp. She had promised Khan a complete inventory of their supplies and wanted to make sure that she had not forgotten anything.

  The night was hot and dry, and swarms of flying insects buzzed about her annoyingly. In theory, accordin
g to the Enterprise’s environmental projections, they had arrived at this location during the height of the hot season, a few months before the monsoon. Marla glanced upward at the stars. Let’s hope we have a roof overhead before the rain starts, she thought.

  Among the unfamiliar constellations, one particular heavenly body stood out from the rest, a large orangish orb that resembled a small moon. That must be Ceti Alpha VI, she guessed; the lifeless world was Ceti Alpha V’s nearest planetary neighbor. She recalled, from a briefing aboard the Enterprise, that the two planets were currently in synchronous orbits, which meant she could expect to see Ceti Alpha VI in the sky quite frequently over the next several months. Marla wondered if she and Khan’s descendants would someday set foot on the planet above, when their newborn nation gained the resources to venture out into space. Given the colony’s primitive beginnings, that could be many generations away….

  Scanning the campsite for Khan, she spotted him several meters away, conferring with Liam MacPherson. According to Khan, the lanky, redheaded Scotsman had been one of Khan’s chief scientific advisors back during the Eugenics Wars, and Khan obviously valued MacPherson’s opinion regarding the future of New Chandigarh. Marla paused in her tracks, reluctant to interrupt Khan while he was busy.

  She was disappointed to see Joaquin standing guard only a few paces away from Khan, his arms crossed atop his massive chest. The thuggish bodyguard had not left Khan’s side for a minute, and Marla was already finding his constant presence oppressive, especially when she remembered the brutal way Joaquin had struck Lieutenant Uhura back on the Enterprise. Thank goodness Khan had prevented Joaquin from hitting Uhura again. The man was obviously a brute.

  As if he had heard her thoughts, Joaquin turned his head toward Marla. His perpetual scowl deepened as he spotted her standing by. He stared at her with undisguised animosity. Guess the feeling is mutual, she realized. Despite the stifling heat, a chill ran down her spine.