Read Online Star Trek: Duty, Honor, Redemption by Vonda N. McIntyre - Free Book Online
Authors: Vonda N. McIntyre
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fell silent. He turned away.
“A plague upon you all.”
He swung around on them again. His eyes were bright with tears, but his self-control had returned. The horrifying gentleness of his voice warned of anger under so much pressure it must, inevitably, erupt.
“You did not come seeking me,” he said. “You believed this was Alpha Ceti VI. Why would you choose to visit a barren world? Why are you here?”
Chekov said nothing.
“Foolish child.” As carefully as a father caressing a baby, Khan touched his cheek. His fingers stroked down to Pavel’s chin. Then he grabbed his jaw and brutally forced up his head.
Just as suddenly he spun away, grabbed Terrell by the throat, and jerked him off his feet.
“Why?”
Terrell shook his head. Khan gripped harder.
Choking, Terrell clawed at Khan’s gloved hand. Khan watched, a smile on his face, while the captain slowly and painfully lost consciousness.
“It does not please him to answer me,” Khan said. His lips curled in a cruelly simple smile. “Well, no matter.” He opened his fist, and Terrell’s limp body collapsed on the floor.
Chekov twisted, trying to free himself. The two men holding him nearly broke his arms. Chekov gasped. Terrell curled around himself, coughing. But at least he was alive.
“You’ll tell me willingly soon enough,” Khan said. He made a quick motion with his head. His people dragged Chekov and Terrell into the laboratory and dumped them next to the sand tank.
Khan strode past them, picked up a small strainer, and dipped it into the tank. He lifted it and sand showered out, sliding down through the mesh and flung up by the struggling of the creatures he had snared.
“Did you, perhaps, come exploring? Then let me introduce you to the only remaining species native to Alpha Ceti V.” He thrust the strainer in front of Chekov. “Ceti eels,” Khan said. The last of the sand spilled away. The two long, thin eels writhed together, lashing their tails and snapping their narrow pointed jaws. They were the sickly yellow of the sand. They had no eyes. “When our world became desert, only a desert creature could survive.” Khan took Chekov’s helmet from one of his people, an intense blond young man.
“Thank you, Joachim.” He tilted the strainer so one of the eels flopped into the helmet.
Joachim spilled the second eel into Terrell’s helmet.
“They killed, they slowly and horribly killed, twenty of my people,” Khan said. “One of them…was my wife.”
“Oh, no….” Chekov whispered. He remembered Lieutenant McGivers. She had been tall and beautiful and classically elegant, but, more important, kind and sweet and wise. He had only ever had one conversation with her, and that by chance—he was an ensign, assigned to the night watch, when she was on the Enterprise, and ensigns and officers did not mix much. But once, she had talked with him. For days afterward, he had wished he were older, more experienced, of a more equivalent rank…. He had wished many things.
When she left the Enterprise to go with Khan, Ensign Pavel Chekov had locked himself in his cabin and cried. How could she go with Khan? He had never understood. He did not understand now.
“You let her die,” he said.
Khan’s venomous glance transfixed him.
“You may blame her death on your Admiral Kirk,” he said. “Do you want to know how she died?” He swirled Chekov’s helmet in circles. Pavel could hear the eel sliding around inside. “The young eel enters its victim’s body, seeks out the brain, and entwines itself around the cerebral cortex. As a side effect, the prey becomes extremely susceptible to suggestion.” He came toward Chekov. “The eel grows, my dear Pavel Chekov, within the captive’s brain. First it causes madness. Then the host becomes paralyzed—unable to move, unable to feel anything but the twisting of the creature within the skull. I learned the progression well. I watched it happen…to my wife.”
He lingered over
“A plague upon you all.”
He swung around on them again. His eyes were bright with tears, but his self-control had returned. The horrifying gentleness of his voice warned of anger under so much pressure it must, inevitably, erupt.
“You did not come seeking me,” he said. “You believed this was Alpha Ceti VI. Why would you choose to visit a barren world? Why are you here?”
Chekov said nothing.
“Foolish child.” As carefully as a father caressing a baby, Khan touched his cheek. His fingers stroked down to Pavel’s chin. Then he grabbed his jaw and brutally forced up his head.
Just as suddenly he spun away, grabbed Terrell by the throat, and jerked him off his feet.
“Why?”
Terrell shook his head. Khan gripped harder.
Choking, Terrell clawed at Khan’s gloved hand. Khan watched, a smile on his face, while the captain slowly and painfully lost consciousness.
“It does not please him to answer me,” Khan said. His lips curled in a cruelly simple smile. “Well, no matter.” He opened his fist, and Terrell’s limp body collapsed on the floor.
Chekov twisted, trying to free himself. The two men holding him nearly broke his arms. Chekov gasped. Terrell curled around himself, coughing. But at least he was alive.
“You’ll tell me willingly soon enough,” Khan said. He made a quick motion with his head. His people dragged Chekov and Terrell into the laboratory and dumped them next to the sand tank.
Khan strode past them, picked up a small strainer, and dipped it into the tank. He lifted it and sand showered out, sliding down through the mesh and flung up by the struggling of the creatures he had snared.
“Did you, perhaps, come exploring? Then let me introduce you to the only remaining species native to Alpha Ceti V.” He thrust the strainer in front of Chekov. “Ceti eels,” Khan said. The last of the sand spilled away. The two long, thin eels writhed together, lashing their tails and snapping their narrow pointed jaws. They were the sickly yellow of the sand. They had no eyes. “When our world became desert, only a desert creature could survive.” Khan took Chekov’s helmet from one of his people, an intense blond young man.
“Thank you, Joachim.” He tilted the strainer so one of the eels flopped into the helmet.
Joachim spilled the second eel into Terrell’s helmet.
“They killed, they slowly and horribly killed, twenty of my people,” Khan said. “One of them…was my wife.”
“Oh, no….” Chekov whispered. He remembered Lieutenant McGivers. She had been tall and beautiful and classically elegant, but, more important, kind and sweet and wise. He had only ever had one conversation with her, and that by chance—he was an ensign, assigned to the night watch, when she was on the Enterprise, and ensigns and officers did not mix much. But once, she had talked with him. For days afterward, he had wished he were older, more experienced, of a more equivalent rank…. He had wished many things.
When she left the Enterprise to go with Khan, Ensign Pavel Chekov had locked himself in his cabin and cried. How could she go with Khan? He had never understood. He did not understand now.
“You let her die,” he said.
Khan’s venomous glance transfixed him.
“You may blame her death on your Admiral Kirk,” he said. “Do you want to know how she died?” He swirled Chekov’s helmet in circles. Pavel could hear the eel sliding around inside. “The young eel enters its victim’s body, seeks out the brain, and entwines itself around the cerebral cortex. As a side effect, the prey becomes extremely susceptible to suggestion.” He came toward Chekov. “The eel grows, my dear Pavel Chekov, within the captive’s brain. First it causes madness. Then the host becomes paralyzed—unable to move, unable to feel anything but the twisting of the creature within the skull. I learned the progression well. I watched it happen…to my wife.”
He lingered over
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