To Reign in Hell: The Exile of Khan Noonien Singh (14 page)

She didn’t have the inclination, or the energy, to debate the matter, however. Besides her spear, she was also carrying a full canteen, a pistol on her hip, and a torch she had snatched from a campfire on her way out of New Chandigarh. She didn’t need the latter to see by—twilight was still hours away—but she hoped that the torch would help scare away any lurking predators, and make it easier to light a fire of their own come nightfall.

The grass was still wet from last night’s showers, so Marla didn’t have to worry about accidentally starting a brushfire. Pendulous gray clouds blotted out the sky, promising more rain to come. Marla prayed that the bleak, overcast day would discourage any remaining sabertooths from venturing out into the veldt.

The women were heading north, toward the equator. If they lived long enough, they might actually reach the vast, uncharted rain forests beyond the savanna, where they figured food and game would be more abundant. For now, however, Marla just aimed to find a convenient stand of trees around sunset, where they could take shelter for the night. Sleeping in the branches, high above the prowling wildlife, sounded marginally safer than camping out on the ground.

Or so she hoped.

Marla fought the temptation to glance behind her. Chances were, she would still be able to see smoke from the colony’s many campfires rising up to meet the clouds. Part of her hoped that Khan would come to his senses, look past his immense pride, and start searching for her, but she knew that this was only a foolish dream; for better or for worse, Khan was not the kind of man who changed his course once he made a decision.

I will never see him again.

Her throat ached, not just from thirst, and she took a gulp of purified water from her canteen. “We should stick close to the river,” she suggested to Zuleika. They would need to refill their canteens soon enough.

“No kidding,” the other woman replied sarcastically. She didn’t bother turning her head to look back at Marla. “But not too close. You seen some of the scaly monsters they’ve got swimming down there?”

“Just a glimpse or two,” Marla admitted, but she knew what Zuleika was referring to. Although she had never been invited to help fetch fresh water from the Kaur, she had heard stories from the colonists who had ventured down to the riverbanks, always in the company of an
armed security team. Apparently Ceti Alpha V’s tendency toward gigantism where its fauna was concerned was not confined to dry land; there had been many sightings—and narrow escapes—regarding crocodiles and turtles of prehistoric proportions. Marla herself had once spied from the watchtower, via Khan’s binoculars, the head of an enormous crocodile rising from beneath the flowing surface of the Kaur. Although much of the creature’s armored body had remained submerged, the supercroc’s jaws alone appeared to be as long as Marla was tall, which would make them nearly two meters in length.

Not unlike Earth’s own primitive Sarchosuchas,
she reflected, which was believed to have weighed almost eighty kilograms and been about the length of a small shuttle-craft. Marla shuddered at the thought; a monster like that could drag down a bison or sabertooth with just one snap of its jaws. She didn’t want to think about what it could do to mere homo sapiens, genetically engineered or otherwise.

“Trust me,” Zuleika insisted. “Down by the river is one place you don’t want to spend too much time, not unless you’re properly armed.” She cast an envious glance at the Colt tucked into Marla’s belt.

Forget it,
Marla thought.
I’m not
that
idealistic
. For all she knew, the pistol was the only thing keeping Zuleika from killing her once and for all—that and the fact that they were going to need each other to survive on their own.
For the time being, this gun is staying right where it is
.

They came to the brim of a shallow valley, which stretched across their path for what looked like kilometers. A narrow stream, perhaps no more than ankle-deep, trickled down the valley’s center, heading for the Kaur farther
to the east. A stand of sycamores and papyrus had grown up along the sides of the brook.

Marla peered nervously at the darkening sky, where the clouds were growing heavier and more ominous by the minute. She was uneasy about descending into the gully just as a storm threatened, but there didn’t seem to be any alternative; to go around the valley might take hours and there was no guarantee that higher ground could be found. And they
did
need fresh water….

Zuleika didn’t hesitate before starting down the slope. Perhaps she was even thirstier than Marla, if such a thing was possible, or maybe she was just determined to put as many kilometers as possible between them and the camp. With a shrug of resignation, Marla followed closely behind her.

The angle of descent was not too steep, and Marla had to admit that the gradual decline came as a relief after long hours of hiking across the grassy plains. Thorny acacia bushes gave way to mingled willows and papyrus reeds. She tried not to think about the uphill climb awaiting them on the other side of the valley.

They had just reached the bottom of the slope when the first heavy raindrops pelted Marla’s face.
Uh-oh…
but it was already too late. Within seconds, the sky turned black as midnight. A howling wind came whipping up the valley, tossing Marla’s hair about wildly. Sheet lightning strobed the darkness. Water fell from the sky like an ion cascade.

After weeks of teasing, the monsoon had finally arrived.

Almost before they realized what was happening, both women were soaked to the skin. Marla’s torch was doused instantly, and the ground beneath their feet dissolved into sludge. The tiny stream, which had barely merited the
name moments before, quickly swelled into a rushing cataract, topped by frothing white water.

An icy dread gripped Marla’s heart.

“We have to get out of here!” she shouted over the rampaging wind and rain. Zuleika nodded in agreement, her worried features devoid of her customary attitude and hauteur. Marla envied the other woman’s short, tightly beaded hair; at least she didn’t have windblown tresses flying in her face.

Frantically, they tried climbing back the way they had come, but their boots slipped repeatedly upon the muddy incline, trapping them at the bottom. Marla discarded her worthless torch and grabbed on to some reeds, but the stalks came free from the soaked hillside, roots and all, sending her tumbling back toward the overflowing stream. Marla held on tightly to the shaft of her spear, determined not to let go of the weapon. More water gushed over the lip of the valley, pouring down the slope to join the swiftly growing floodwaters.

Marla felt like she was drowning. The water was everywhere … in her eyes, in her mouth, beneath her hands and knees. Somewhere nearby, Zuleika let loose with an impressive barrage of late-twentieth-century profanity. From the sound of it, the volatile superwoman was just as overwhelmed by the deluge as Marla was, the sheer power and enormity of the storm rendering the genetic disparity between them insignificant.

Not even Khan could stand against this,
Marla guessed. A diabolical irony stabbed at her soul.
I’ve been waiting so avidly for the monsoon! Now it may be the death of me…
.

A tremendous roar, coming from upstream, drowned out Zuleika’s volcanic curses. Wiping the rain and hair from her eyes, Marla looked up in time to see a colossal wall of
water barreling toward her like a tidal wave. The onrushing torrent stretched from one side of the valley to other, offering no hope of refuge.

Beam me out of here!
she thought fervently, even though she knew that wasn’t going to happen….

The flash flood struck with the unbelievable force, snatching up both women and carrying them along in its unstoppable rush toward the River Kaur. Marla held on to her spear with both hands as she was tossed about wildly by the turbulent waters. She tried holding her breath, only to end up gasping for air whenever her face bobbed above the spuming whitecaps. Uprooted bushes and branches smashed against her, the jagged twigs tearing at her flesh. The brutal current spun her about randomly, so that she barely knew which way was up. Once she collided with what felt like another human body, but the flood whisked her away from the other woman before she could even determine if Zuleika was still alive.

Khan!
she screamed silently.
Help me—please!

A wave splashed against her face, invading her mouth and nose. She gasped and sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of muddy water before the flood pulled her under again….

Khan looked on grimly, accompanied by Joaquin and Vishwa Patil, as a team of colonists sifted through the charred remains of the storage shed. Alas, there appeared to be little to salvage; the advanced twenty-third-century equipment had all been destroyed, leaving them only whatever Starfleet equipment remained in the original cargo bays. Of this shed’s contents, it seemed only Marla and her protective blankets had survived.

Marla.

A pang pierced his heart. Despite his stony exterior, doubts and second thoughts plagued him. Had he rushed to judgment regarding Zuleika Walker? What if Marla had been right and Zuleika had indeed been innocent? If so, he had condemned both women to certain death on the basis of an overhasty decision.
“Impatience will be your fatal flaw,”
an old acquaintance had once warned him, back during the Eugenics Wars. Could it be that this flaw had cost Marla her life?

His eyes probed the crime scene before him, searching for proof of Zuleika’s guilt or innocence. Between the fire, the rain, and the frantic efforts of the firefighters, however, the site was far from pristine. The sodden ground had been trampled over by multiple feet since the initial attack on Vishwa Patil, meaning that any revelatory evidence had been hopelessly lost.

Not that there was likely to have been many clues to begin with; setting a dry wooden shed on fire with a piece of tinder was not exactly a crime that required extensive effort or preparation. As Marla had rightly pointed out, most anyone could have snapped shut the padlock and lighted the blaze, all in a matter of minutes.

He turned toward Patil, who was also contemplating the burnt wreckage. An ugly scab covered the bump at the base of his skull. “You saw or heard nothing?” Khan asked the Indian security officer.

Patil shook his head. His imposing mustache vibrated as he spoke. “Nothing, Your Excellency.”

Khan clenched his fists in frustration. There had to be some way to uncover the truth. “You did not smell smoke?”

“The camp always smells of smoke,” Patil said with a shrug, “what with the cooking fires, campfires, and such. The Walker woman was boiling a big pot of fresh water maybe twelve meters away.” He rubbed the sore spot at the rear of his head. “Raised quite a bump, she did. I suppose I should be thankful that she dragged me away from the shed before putting the torch to it.” A mournful sign escaped his lips. “By the time I came to, only a few moments later, the entire structure was ablaze. I tried to get to the door, to set Lieutenant McGivers free, but the smoke and flames … they were too much for me.”

He showed Khan his palms, which were still reddened where the fires had lightly scorched him. They matched the burns on Khan’s own hands.

Khan frowned. Now that he heard it again, something about Patil’s story did not ring true. Why would Zuleika be so crude as to hit Patil with a rock, especially if her true target was Marla, not Patil? Zuleika was an assassin par excellence; she could swiftly and efficiently render a man unconscious with her bare hands, simply by clamping on to the appropriate pressure point. And why, having spared his life, would she take the chance of him recovering in time to rescue Marla? Again, she had the talent and skill to safely incapacitate him for hours.

Suspicion flared in Khan’s mind. “Tell me,” he asked sharply, invading the other man’s personal space. “How did you know that Zuleika was busy boiling water if you were standing by your post?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” Patil answered. He stepped backward, retreating fearfully from Khan’s scrutiny. “I must have heard as much from someone else … after the fact, that is.”

Khan was not convinced. To the contrary, the guard’s uncertainty, and sudden nervousness, reinforced Khan’s sense that Patil was hiding a particularly heinous secret. He cast a meaningful look at Joaquin, who instantly seized Patil from behind. “Lord Khan!” the guard cried out in alarm. “I don’t understand!”

“The truth!” Khan demanded. There was no time for further games or evasions, not with Marla and Zuleika facing unknown perils at this very moment; for all he knew, both women were already dead.

He took hold of Patil’s throat and squeezed.

Patil gasped out loud. “Please, Your Excellency!” he squeaked. His face turned red, then blue. Bulging veins throbbed upon his brow. “I can’t breathe!”

Khan squeezed more tightly.

Patil’s eyes protruded from their sockets, the bloodshot orbs seeing neither mercy nor hesitation in Khan’s own eyes. “Yes! All right!” Patil choked out. “I confess, it was me!”

I knew it,
Khan thought. He released his grip enough to let Patil speak more easily.

“Forgive me, Your Excellency!” Patil gasped as he spoke, hungrily sucking air into his lungs. His agonized face pleaded for mercy. “I did it for you, Lord Khan! The Starfleet woman was a wedge between you and your true followers, giving your enemies an issue to use against you.” The words came pouring out of him now, in a desperate effort to justify his actions. “You were blind to the threat she posed, and I could not stand by and let you be brought down by a woman again, like on the
Enterprise
, and back on Earth….”

Khan knew to whom the latter remark referred: the Lady Ament, once one of his most trusted advisors during the
glory days of his reign on Earth. An exotic beauty of great intelligence and charm, she had ultimately proven to be a double agent employed by his enemies. Along with the meddlesome Gary Seven, she had played a key role in his eventual downfall.