You should have let him sleep (chapter 7 of ?)
Chapter seven - The Trap
It seems that I should switch the names of the last two chapters...this one is immeasurably more dreadful than the last one. Thanks to rranne for not only betaing but also tampering Khan's psychopathy a bit:)
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Cold sweat pearled on the base of Clark Terrell’s neck and run down his spine beneath the inner lining of his spacesuit; he couldn’t tear his eyes from the unrelenting stare of the stranger- he was captured like a bird under the gaze of a viper; the power of those clear eyes, alone, capable of pinning him down: unable to move, unable to think. Terrell barely registered the hands divesting him of his phaser and communicator; he felt like his skull was about to crack open, revealing its insides and all his secret thoughts. My ship, he thought. Jesus Christ, my ship.
The leader of their captors took off his cloak, exposing his clothes that looked as if sewn together of anything that could possibly serve as protection- pieces of upholstery and floor-carpeting; all weather-worn and ragged. His long hair was swept back from his face into a loose braid, without a trace of silver in the smooth blackness, contrasting with the bluish paleness of his skin; and it was hard to tell the man’s age- it could be anything between thirty and fifty. He seemed to command the men around him without having to speak aloud; they moved and acted in perfect accord, with threatening efficiency.
Finally, the spell broke. Terrell drew in a steadying breath and began: “Sir, I demand-”
“You,” the leader practically spat the word, “are in position to demand nothing, Captain.” He folded his hands, regarding Terrell contemptuously, and smirked an ironic half-smile: “I, on the other hand, am in position to grant nothing.”
“However pleasant this might be, I’m still surprised to find you here in the first place,” he continued, the tone of his voice in such contrast to the conversational lightness of his words that it send shivers down Terrell’s spine.
“Did the Starfleet change their minds about the ostracism of my people? I was given to understand that our exile here was permanent.”
Exile? Terrell frowned momentarily before he reminded himself that it would be better not to give anything away; but the man in front of him was a quick reader of people’s expressions.
His eyes narrowed as he spoke: “You have no idea who I am.”
“I’m shocked,” he exclaimed, in a mock amusement. “Did the name of Khan Noonien Singh really leave such fleeting impression on the mighty Federation? Although I should have expected some extent of an information embargo on the Kronos incident, it still pains me to see that the shameful conduct of Admiral Marcus is not a part of the school syllabus.”
One name in this tirade caught Terrell’s attention. “I was still at the Academy when Admiral Marcus was reported dead,” he replied apologetically, trying not to let the sarcastic complaints of this man grow into something worse.
The man who called himself Khan stilled, shooting him a quick, assessing glance; his brows already drawing together. “Inexperienced. Ordinary. Untrustworthy of a greater action or scheme...tell me, Captain: why are you here?”
“What do you mean?” Terrell swallowed, buying himself some time.
Khan went on in a flat voice as if explaining the obvious: “You didn’t know you’d find anyone here. That’s why you investigated the discovery of our ship without taking any precautions towards your safety.”
“Well, I...I certainly didn’t expect exiles-” Terrell cleared his throat, “-or prisoners. This planet is not suitable for such-”
Khan’s outburst was unexpected, his eyes suddenly alight with rage: “For such- what? Life spent in inevitable dying out, one after another? Slow execution of one of the most cruel death sentences? The notorious James T. Kirk must have patted himself on the back for such an idea- leaving us to settle in a garden of a planet only to watch it destroyed mere months after! And even if he hadn’t known beforehand about the comet that was going to collide with our world, exploding in the atmosphere, destroying nearly all life in tidal waves and wildfires, and clouding off the sunshine for years to come, even if he hadn’t known about the impending disaster that had claimed the lives of two thirds of my people; he should have found out, if only he ever bothered to check on us! But in his self-righteous pride he didn’t, not even once in fifteen years!”
The walls of the wrecked ship seemed to shake with the echo of this accusation; Terrell’s mouth went dry. “Admiral Kirk surely didn’t mean-”
“Admiral? Admiral!” Khan shouted; and with that his rage suddenly vanished like a tornado that breaks to nothing once spent out. His voice was again controlled and quiet; for some reason he seemed more of a threat like that- with his fury cold and calculated.
I have a very foul experience with what the Admirals of the Starfleet deem justifiable in their own judgment. You, Captain, surely understand that I have to protect my people,” Khan whispered as if lost in thoughts; then he snapped back to the present, his eyes clear and commanding.
“Kirk didn’t send you to check on us or to end us in the midst of our misery; and yet you are here, a representative of a military organization suddenly expressing interest in a seemingly dead planet. My question holds. Why have you come here? Why have you sought a dead world?”
Genesis. This insane man mustn’t know about it...even over my dead body. Terrell attempted to look innocent while he desperately thought about a credible excuse, but it was already too late. Khan knew there was a secret; his smile widened and his voice dropped confidently.
“Oh, Captain...don’t stress yourself. You will tell me. You will love to tell me.”
Khan made few steps across the room to a large glass box almost full of sand, slow and deliberate in his movements, as if to make his captive more terrified by not knowing what was going to happen, and picked up a pair of tweezers.
“Did you know,” he asked conversationally, “that of all creatures, the arthropods are the most fit to survive any catastrophe, regardless of the scale? In my time; we used to joke that black beetles can survive even a nuclear explosion.”
The tweezers prodded at the sand, eliciting a scraping sound from inside. Grains of sand moved as if on their own volition; Terrell watched it with horror, unable to look away.
“There were small deserts in this world; before it all turned into one without end. One very interesting species of arachnids lived in the desert sand- evolution taught him how to parasitise on small homoeothermic animals, usually sand mice.”
His prey caught; Khan lifted the tweezers in the level of his eyes, admiring the spider with a self-satisfied smile. “After the weather conditions on this planet worsened so that it could no more sustain the life of the spider’s hosts; this fascinating species was also on the verge of extinction. But they proved to be unexpectedly apt at adaptation. Two men of my crew were dead by the time we noticed that the spiders were taking the advantage of hosts larger than mice.”
Khan turned towards Terrell, his voice cold and detached as if giving a scientific lecture.
“You see, the spider latches on the nape of one’s neck, right under the skull, and injects its ovipositor between it and the first cervical vertebra directly into the brain stem, where it plants its eggs.”
Terrell began to shake but the hands held him tight.
“Despite the fact that the arachnids are usually predators, this species has developed a cohabitation behaviour together with a collective consciousness. Like the bees. I find bees fascinating, don’t you, Captain?”
Terrell’s head was forced down, the back of his neck exposed.
“Collective consciousness requires communication; it is achieved via pheromones. Soon you will experience these pheromones on your own system, Captain; they affect the brain reward centres. From the moment of the injection, you will instinctively seek reward; you shall be as docile as a bee. My face; my voice will imprint upon you; there will be nothing you would like to hide from me, nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”
When he felt the first touch of the stubbly legs on his skin, Terrell screamed.
“There is only one drawback to this wonderful symbiosis,” Khan shook his head pityingly, his fingers smoothing the damp hair away from Terrell’s nape in a gesture that was almost gentle.
“Once the young spiders hatch from their eggs, you’ll die.”
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.
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.tbc Chapter 8
It seems that I should switch the names of the last two chapters...this one is immeasurably more dreadful than the last one. Thanks to rranne for not only betaing but also tampering Khan's psychopathy a bit:)
.
.
.
Cold sweat pearled on the base of Clark Terrell’s neck and run down his spine beneath the inner lining of his spacesuit; he couldn’t tear his eyes from the unrelenting stare of the stranger- he was captured like a bird under the gaze of a viper; the power of those clear eyes, alone, capable of pinning him down: unable to move, unable to think. Terrell barely registered the hands divesting him of his phaser and communicator; he felt like his skull was about to crack open, revealing its insides and all his secret thoughts. My ship, he thought. Jesus Christ, my ship.
The leader of their captors took off his cloak, exposing his clothes that looked as if sewn together of anything that could possibly serve as protection- pieces of upholstery and floor-carpeting; all weather-worn and ragged. His long hair was swept back from his face into a loose braid, without a trace of silver in the smooth blackness, contrasting with the bluish paleness of his skin; and it was hard to tell the man’s age- it could be anything between thirty and fifty. He seemed to command the men around him without having to speak aloud; they moved and acted in perfect accord, with threatening efficiency.
Finally, the spell broke. Terrell drew in a steadying breath and began: “Sir, I demand-”
“You,” the leader practically spat the word, “are in position to demand nothing, Captain.” He folded his hands, regarding Terrell contemptuously, and smirked an ironic half-smile: “I, on the other hand, am in position to grant nothing.”
“However pleasant this might be, I’m still surprised to find you here in the first place,” he continued, the tone of his voice in such contrast to the conversational lightness of his words that it send shivers down Terrell’s spine.
“Did the Starfleet change their minds about the ostracism of my people? I was given to understand that our exile here was permanent.”
Exile? Terrell frowned momentarily before he reminded himself that it would be better not to give anything away; but the man in front of him was a quick reader of people’s expressions.
His eyes narrowed as he spoke: “You have no idea who I am.”
“I’m shocked,” he exclaimed, in a mock amusement. “Did the name of Khan Noonien Singh really leave such fleeting impression on the mighty Federation? Although I should have expected some extent of an information embargo on the Kronos incident, it still pains me to see that the shameful conduct of Admiral Marcus is not a part of the school syllabus.”
One name in this tirade caught Terrell’s attention. “I was still at the Academy when Admiral Marcus was reported dead,” he replied apologetically, trying not to let the sarcastic complaints of this man grow into something worse.
The man who called himself Khan stilled, shooting him a quick, assessing glance; his brows already drawing together. “Inexperienced. Ordinary. Untrustworthy of a greater action or scheme...tell me, Captain: why are you here?”
“What do you mean?” Terrell swallowed, buying himself some time.
Khan went on in a flat voice as if explaining the obvious: “You didn’t know you’d find anyone here. That’s why you investigated the discovery of our ship without taking any precautions towards your safety.”
“Well, I...I certainly didn’t expect exiles-” Terrell cleared his throat, “-or prisoners. This planet is not suitable for such-”
Khan’s outburst was unexpected, his eyes suddenly alight with rage: “For such- what? Life spent in inevitable dying out, one after another? Slow execution of one of the most cruel death sentences? The notorious James T. Kirk must have patted himself on the back for such an idea- leaving us to settle in a garden of a planet only to watch it destroyed mere months after! And even if he hadn’t known beforehand about the comet that was going to collide with our world, exploding in the atmosphere, destroying nearly all life in tidal waves and wildfires, and clouding off the sunshine for years to come, even if he hadn’t known about the impending disaster that had claimed the lives of two thirds of my people; he should have found out, if only he ever bothered to check on us! But in his self-righteous pride he didn’t, not even once in fifteen years!”
The walls of the wrecked ship seemed to shake with the echo of this accusation; Terrell’s mouth went dry. “Admiral Kirk surely didn’t mean-”
“Admiral? Admiral!” Khan shouted; and with that his rage suddenly vanished like a tornado that breaks to nothing once spent out. His voice was again controlled and quiet; for some reason he seemed more of a threat like that- with his fury cold and calculated.
I have a very foul experience with what the Admirals of the Starfleet deem justifiable in their own judgment. You, Captain, surely understand that I have to protect my people,” Khan whispered as if lost in thoughts; then he snapped back to the present, his eyes clear and commanding.
“Kirk didn’t send you to check on us or to end us in the midst of our misery; and yet you are here, a representative of a military organization suddenly expressing interest in a seemingly dead planet. My question holds. Why have you come here? Why have you sought a dead world?”
Genesis. This insane man mustn’t know about it...even over my dead body. Terrell attempted to look innocent while he desperately thought about a credible excuse, but it was already too late. Khan knew there was a secret; his smile widened and his voice dropped confidently.
“Oh, Captain...don’t stress yourself. You will tell me. You will love to tell me.”
Khan made few steps across the room to a large glass box almost full of sand, slow and deliberate in his movements, as if to make his captive more terrified by not knowing what was going to happen, and picked up a pair of tweezers.
“Did you know,” he asked conversationally, “that of all creatures, the arthropods are the most fit to survive any catastrophe, regardless of the scale? In my time; we used to joke that black beetles can survive even a nuclear explosion.”
The tweezers prodded at the sand, eliciting a scraping sound from inside. Grains of sand moved as if on their own volition; Terrell watched it with horror, unable to look away.
“There were small deserts in this world; before it all turned into one without end. One very interesting species of arachnids lived in the desert sand- evolution taught him how to parasitise on small homoeothermic animals, usually sand mice.”
His prey caught; Khan lifted the tweezers in the level of his eyes, admiring the spider with a self-satisfied smile. “After the weather conditions on this planet worsened so that it could no more sustain the life of the spider’s hosts; this fascinating species was also on the verge of extinction. But they proved to be unexpectedly apt at adaptation. Two men of my crew were dead by the time we noticed that the spiders were taking the advantage of hosts larger than mice.”
Khan turned towards Terrell, his voice cold and detached as if giving a scientific lecture.
“You see, the spider latches on the nape of one’s neck, right under the skull, and injects its ovipositor between it and the first cervical vertebra directly into the brain stem, where it plants its eggs.”
Terrell began to shake but the hands held him tight.
“Despite the fact that the arachnids are usually predators, this species has developed a cohabitation behaviour together with a collective consciousness. Like the bees. I find bees fascinating, don’t you, Captain?”
Terrell’s head was forced down, the back of his neck exposed.
“Collective consciousness requires communication; it is achieved via pheromones. Soon you will experience these pheromones on your own system, Captain; they affect the brain reward centres. From the moment of the injection, you will instinctively seek reward; you shall be as docile as a bee. My face; my voice will imprint upon you; there will be nothing you would like to hide from me, nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”
When he felt the first touch of the stubbly legs on his skin, Terrell screamed.
“There is only one drawback to this wonderful symbiosis,” Khan shook his head pityingly, his fingers smoothing the damp hair away from Terrell’s nape in a gesture that was almost gentle.
“Once the young spiders hatch from their eggs, you’ll die.”
.
.
.
.tbc Chapter 8