Star Trek: Duty, Honor, Redemption (15 page)

He grappled with Khan, straining to reach his throat, but he was outnumbered. Within a few seconds, they had powered him to the floor. That was the worst show he’d put up since the last time Vance dragged him drunk and stoned and bruised out of a bar and made him promise to quit mixing recreational drugs. He had kept the promise, too.

Weird to remember that now.

He pushed himself to his hands and knees. Someone kicked him.

Del cried out in shock and surprise at the pain. He fell, then rolled over onto his back. The ceiling lights glared in his eyes. Everyone was staring at him, Khan with a faint smile. Del put his hand to his side, which should have ached, but which hurt with a high, throbbing pain.

His hand came away soaked with blood. That was the first time he realized Khan had stabbed him.

They dragged him to his feet. His knees felt weak and he was dizzy.

Four people barely succeeded in holding Vance down.

Khan stood just near enough to tempt Del to kick at him, just far enough away to make any attempt futile and stupid. Del pressed his hand hard against the knife wound. It was very deep. Blood flowed steadily against the pressure.

Yoshi was dead, but Jan moved weakly, bleeding in pulsebeats. Someone moved to help him.

“Leave him!” Khan snarled. “Let him die; he is worthless to me.” He gestured at Del. “Hold his arms.”

They already held him tightly but they forced his hands behind his back. The wound bled more freely.

Khan turned away and strolled to a nearby workbench. “Your laboratory is excellently equipped,” he said matter-of-factly, while everyone else in the room, even his own people, stared horrified at Jan, slowly bleeding to death.

“My gods,” Vance whispered in fury. “You’re insane!” He strained around. “Chekov! Terrell! You can’t just stand there and let him die!”

“Be quiet, Doctor Madison,” Khan said easily. “My people and I do what we must; as for young Pavel here, and his captain—I own them. I intend to own you.” He idly picked up a large tripod.

“My Lord Khan, yes!” Joachim said. “Control them completely! There are eels on
Reliant,
I’ll return to the ship and get them—”

“That will not be necessary, Joachim,” Khan said. “Thank you for your suggestion.”

“Sir—”

“Tie them up.” He fiddled with the tripod.

Khan’s people dragged them to a smaller room down the corridor. There, they bound Zinaida and Vance to chairs. Del watched as if from a long distance. He could feel himself slipping down into shock. The whole side of his shirt and his left hip and thigh were soaked with blood. He could not believe what was happening. His reality had suddenly turned far more fantastic than any game he had ever invented.

Del focused on the thought: At least Carol got Genesis away. She
must
have.

Khan’s followers flung a rope over the ceiling strut, then dragged Del beneath it and tied his hands. The rope jerked him upright and he cried out. When his feet barely touched the floor, they tied the other end of the rope to a built-in lab table.

“Khan, my lord,” Joachim pleaded, “this effort is unnecessary. It would only take a moment—”

“No. Our dear friend the admiral must know what I plan for him when he is in my grasp.”

“But, my lord—”

Khan stopped in front of Del.

“Leave us, Joachim.”

He had taken the tripod apart; now he held one of its legs, a steel rod half a meter long and a centimeter through.

“Leave us!” He touched Del’s face with his long, fine hand. Del tried to turn away, and Khan chuckled.

His people left.

Jan and Yoshi were dead.

Khan smiled.

Vance struggled furiously against the ropes, cursing. Zinaida sat quietly with her eyes closed.

Del met Khan’s gaze. His expression was kind, almost pitying.

“Tell me about Genesis, Doctor March.”

Del tried to take a breath. The knife wound radiated pain.

“No….” he said.

Khan hardly moved. The steel rod flicked out and struck Del’s side.

It hurt so much Del could not even cry out. He gasped.

“Don’t!” Vance yelled. “For gods’ sake, stop it!”

Khan did not even bother to ask another question. Slowly, methodically, with the precision of obsession, he beat Del unconscious.

Joachim waited.

Khan opened the door. He gripped Joachim by the shoulder.

“We are close to the prize, Joachim. Doctor March will speak to me when he regains consciousness,” he said. “Let it be soon, my friend.”

Joachim watched him stride away.

He did not want to enter the lab. He had heard what was happening. He did not want to see it. But he obeyed.

Dark streaks soaked through March’s shirt where the steel rod, striking, had broken his skin. He had lost a great deal of blood, and the stab wound still bled slowly.

Vance Madison raised his head.

“If there’s anything human left in you,” he whispered, “untie me. Let me help him.” His voice was hoarse.

“I have no wish to die as your hostage.” Joachim searched for March’s pulse and found it only with difficulty. He was deep in shock. Left alone, he would soon die.

Joachim found an injector in
Reliant
’s portable medical kit. He chose the strongest stimulant it offered, pressed the instrument to the side of March’s throat, and introduced the drug directly into the carotid artery.

Del March shuddered and opened his eyes.

Joachim had never seen such an expression before, so much pain and fear and bewilderment. He ran water onto a cloth and reached toward him. The young man flinched back.

“I’m sorry,” Joachim said. “I’ll try not to hurt you.” He gently wiped the sweat from March’s face. He need not speak to him at all. But he said, again, “I’m sorry.”

Joachim had no excuse to delay Khan any longer. Nevertheless, he stopped before Madison and Chitirih-Ra-Payjh. Madison looked at him with the awful intensity of a gentle man driven to hatred.

“Do you want some water?”

“It’s blood I want,” Madison said. “Your leader’s. Or yours.”

Joachim ignored the empty threat. He glanced at Chitirih-Ra-Payjh, who had not moved or spoken or opened her eyes.

“Did Khan question her?”

Madison shook his head.

“Tell him what he wants to know,” Joachim said urgently. “He’ll break one of you, eventually, and the pain will be for nothing.”

“You hate this!” Madison said. “You can’t stand what he’s doing! Help us stop him!”

“I cannot.”

“How can you obey somebody like that? He’s crazy, he’s flat out of his mind!”

Joachim came close to striking Madison, who had no idea what he was saying. For fifteen years Khan had dedicated himself to the survival of his followers, when he himself had nothing left to live for. Nothing but revenge. Bitterness and hatred had overwhelmed him. Joachim held desperately to the conviction that when his vengeance was behind him, Khan could find himself again, that somehow, someday, Joachim would regain the man to whom he had sworn his loyalty and his life.

“I gave my word,” Joachim said.

“When there’s no one left,” Madison said, “it’s you he’ll turn on. You must know that.”

“I will not oppose him!” Joachim bolted from the room.

Del cringed, expecting Khan to return immediately. But the door slid shut and remained so.

Zinaida opened her eyes and stood up. She flung the ropes aside. Her wrists were raw. She untied Vance.

“Del—” Vance lifted him so the strain on his arms eased. Blood rushed back into Del’s hands, stinging hot. The world sparkled. Vance tried not to hurt him but any touch was like another blow. The stimulant made the pain more intense, and prevented his passing out again.

Zinaida loosed the far end of the rope. Vance let him down as gently as he could.

“Oh, gods, Vance, what the hell is happening?”

“I don’t know, little brother.” He gave Del some water.

They heard a noise from the hallway outside. Del froze.

“I can’t take any more—” He looked up at Vance, terrified. “If he starts on me again…I’m scared, Vance.”

“It’s all right,” Vance said desperately, “it’s all right. I won’t let him…” He stopped. They both knew it was a futile promise.

Zinaida knelt beside them. She touched Del’s forehead. Her hands were wondrously cool and soothing. She had never touched him before.

She bent down and gently kissed his lips. Vance grabbed her shoulder and pulled her away.

“What are you doing?”

“Vance, even a Deltan cannot kill with one kiss,” she said softly. “But I can give him…Vance, I can give him the strength to die. If he chooses.”

The strength to die….

Del felt his best friend shudder.

“I—” Vance’s voice caught.

“Del, can you hear me?” Zinaida said.

He nodded.

“I’ll do whatever you wish.”

“Please…” he whispered.

She kissed him once more, then placed her fingertips along his temples. His pain increased, but the fear gradually disintegrated.

Zinaida took her hands away. Del felt very weak, very calm. The stimulant had stopped working. Zinaida turned aside, trembling.

They heard Khan outside, his words indistinguishable but his voice unmistakable. Del took a deep breath.

“Damn, Vance,” he whispered, “I would have liked to see your dragons.”

“Me too, little brother. Me too.” He eased Del to the floor.

The only times Vance had ever been hurt in a fight—the only times he ever got in fights—was getting his partner out of trouble. Del tried to reach out for him, to stop his doing anything stupid, to tell him it was too late.

Just try to stall him, brother,
Del thought.
For yourself….

But he could not move.

Vance pressed himself against the wall beside the door. Seeing what he planned, Zinaida did the same on the other side.

The door opened.

Vance got both hands around Khan’s throat before Joachim shot him with a phaser set on stun. Zinaida clawed at his eyes, scoring his cheek, before the phaser beam enveloped her, too, and she fell.

Khan’s people lifted Del from the floor. Their hands were like burning coals. Khan gazed straight into his eyes. Del started to understand Joachim’s dedication.

“Doctor March….” Khan said.

Del
wanted
to tell him about Genesis. He wanted the hurt to stop, and he wanted Khan to speak a kind word to him—

Del gathered together all the pain, and concentrated on it, and gave way to it.

He could see only shadows.

When Doctor March collapsed, Joachim sprang to his side with
Reliant
’s medical kit, numb with shock, and dread of Khan, at his own failure.

Joachim could not forget what Vance Madison had said. As he tried desperately to revive March, he could feel his leader’s vengeful gaze.

“He’s dead,” Joachim said. And then he lied to Khan for the first time in his life. “I’m sorry, my lord.”

Khan said nothing to him. He turned his back.

Madison started to revive from the phaser blast. Khan dragged him to his feet.

“I do not have time to be gentle with you, Doctor Madison,” Khan said, “as I was with your friend. I have other, more important quarry to hunt down.” He drew his knife. “It takes perhaps ten minutes for a human being to bleed to death. If you say one word or make one gesture of compliance in that time, I will save your life.”

Haunted by grief, Madison stared through him. Joachim knew that he would never speak.

Khan ordered his people to tie Madison’s ankles and suspend him from the ceiling strut. They obeyed.

Khan would make a small, quick cut, just over the jugular vein; the bleeding would be slower than if he slashed the artery, and Madison would remain conscious longer. But he would die all the same.

Joachim could not bear to watch Khan destroy another human being. He fled.

In the main lab, he contacted
Reliant
and beamed on board. He ran to the captain’s cabin, which Khan had taken over as his own. A sand tank stood on the desk. Joachim dug frantically through it with the strainer until he caught two eels. He dumped them into a box, raced back to the starship’s transporter room, and returned to Spacelab. He ran, gasping for breath, to the small lab Khan had made a prison.

Joachim was too late to save Madison. He stopped, staring horrified at the pool of blood.

Khan stood before Zinaida Chitirih-Ra-Payjh. She met his gaze without flinching; he seemed offended that she did not fear him.

“My lord!” Joachim said when he could speak again. His voice shook. “Khan, they’re all too weak to stand against your force—”