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To Reign in Hell: The Exile of Khan Noonien Singh

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Star Trek
Hardcover / January, 2005
0-7434-5711-0

Written by Greg Cox

Excerpt:

A.D. 2267

Day One

The buzzing of the transporter beam faded away and Khan found himself standing for the first time on the soil of Ceti Alpha V. His eyes, accustomed to the unobtrusive lighting aboard the Enterprise, blinked against the harsh glare of the midday sun, which blazed brightly in the sapphire sky of this brave new world. He felt like Columbus or Armstrong, bolding setting foot on the brink of a vast and unexplored frontier.

Here I will build an empire, he vowed, even greater than the one I left behind.

A stark red jumpsuit clothed his muscular frame, and his chin was held high despite the blinding sunlight. His sleek black hair was knotted at the back of his neck. Dark brown eyes gazed out at the world with confidence and keen anticipation. He started to raise his hands, to shield his eyes, then remembered the sturdy steel bonds locking his wrists together.

Captain Kirk was taking no chances, not that Khan blamed him. He had, after all, briefly captured the Enterprise and tortured Kirk nearly to death, so the captain's precautions were only logical. I would have done the same, Khan admitted.

A full contingent of Starfleet security officers were also on hand to ensure Khan's cooperation. They stood, phasers at the ready, all around the unrepentant superman, while more of their number kept watch over the mass of Khan's followers, who waited silently for their leader a few meters away.

At Kirk's insistence, Khan--and one other--were the last of the exiles to be transported to the planet's surface, the better to keep the ruthless Sikh dictator under wraps until the very last minute. There would no replay of Khan's previous escape from custody.

A gentle hand grasped his, and he glanced down at the woman who had beamed down alongside him: Lieutenant Marla McGivers, late of Starfleet. His accomplice in his short-lived takeover of the Enterprise, and his eventual undoing as well.

A woman of the twenty-third century, born some three hundred years after Khan and his fellow expatriates, she was a willowy beauty whose graceful figure was well displayed by her crimson Starfleet uniform. A short skirt and polished black boots displayed a pair of slender legs, while her auburn hair flowed freely over her shoulders, just the way he liked it.

"So this is our new home," she whispered, a trace of apprehension in her voice. Chestnut eyes, tastefully highlighted by pale blue eyeshadow, took in the untamed river valley before them. Thorny shrubs and scattered palm trees dotted the grassy savanna stretching beyond the shores of a mighty river. To the northeast, a range of snowcapped mountains rose in the distance, no doubt many days' journey north. Over the roar of the coursing river, the caws and squawks of the native wildlife could be heard. Avian life-forms, boasting impressive wingspans, circled slowly above the grassy plains, although whether they were predators or scavengers Khan could not tell.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly, taking care not to damage her fragile, merely human bones. Unlike Khan and his other followers, Marla was not a genetically engineered superhuman; small wonder she faced their new life with some trepidation. Khan was deeply aware of just how much she had sacrificed to be with him. Like Eve with Adam, he mused, she has turned her back on the paradise of the twenty-third century to dwell with me in the wilderness.

A young Russian ensign--Chekov, by name--stepped forward from the ring of security officers. Khan recalled that the youth had shown courage during his short-lived takeover of the Enterprise, leading a failed charge to retake engineering from the superhumans; that the Russian's charge had failed did not diminish his valor in Khan's eyes.

"Excuse me, Mr. Khan," he said, a trifle nervously, "but I'm to inform you that Enterprise will be departing shortly. As arranged by Captain Kirk, the provisions for your colony have already been delivered to the planet's surface." The youth gestured toward an assortment of bulky metal cargo containers, resting safely distant from the muddy banks of the river. "Besides your supplies from the Botany Bay, Captain Kirk has also provided you with some essential technology from our ship's stores."

"I see." Khan nodded in approval. "I am certain that all is in order, per your captain's instructions." Kirk himself had chosen to take his leave of Khan in the transporter room of the Enterprise; their farewells had been terse and unsmiling, as befitted two recent adversaries. "Just as I am certain that my people and I shall thrive and prosper far beyond James T. Kirk's expectations."

"Of course," Chekov agreed diplomatically. He glanced at Khan's wrist restraints and removed a small electronic device from his belt. "If you'll just raise your hands, sir, I'll remove your manacles now."

"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.

Copyright © 2005 Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved.