STAR TREK - TOS (19 page)

Mercifully, the tremors had begun to subside, although great hunks of debris continued to fall from the earthquake-weakened walls and ceiling. In a curious twist of fate, the column that had almost killed Khan now served to shelter him and Joaquin from the plummeting rubble, at the expense of his straining muscles, which already ached from holding the uprooted pillar. Rocky detritus fell on both sides of the column, burying Khan up to his ribs in crumbling heaps of stone. Would he and his loyal servant soon be interred alive, along with the already smothered remains of the Russian traitor?

“Help me!” he shouted, still bearing the entire weight of the leaning column. “Guards! Anyone!” The hollowed-out chaitya was now almost completely filled with debris; there was no place to throw the immense pillar even if he wanted to risk bringing more rubble down on top of him. The bouncing flashlight shattered beneath the falling stonework, casting Khan into total darkness. “Help me! We require assistance!” The ear-splitting roar of the earthquake faded away with the tremors, so that Khan heard only his own voice and the unnerving sound of loose granite settling all around him. One good aftershock, he feared, might bury them completely. “Someone help us, I command you!”

No answer came.
Ishould save my breath,
he realized, unsure how much oxygen remained within the collapsed cave-temple. Forcing himself to[164]concentrate, despite the back-breaking weight of the mammoth column, he called upon time-tested yoga techniques to control his breathing. An appropriate response, he acknowledged wryly, given that, traditionally, Shiva himself was credited with introducing yoga to mankind. Despite his Sikh ancestry, Khan was not a religious man, but right now he gladly welcomed whatever divine assistance might be available.
If not for me,
he bargained,
then for the
injured Joaquin, who fell in my service.

Controlled breathing did little, however, to relieve the constant weight of the huge pillar pressing down on him: Agonizing exertion contorted his features. Every muscle in his body cried out in anguish. Sweat soaked his dust-covered garments and his teeth were clenched tighter than a vise. He felt like Atlas, condemned to bear the weight of the world for all eternity, or perhaps Samson, in reverse, using every ounce of his preternatural strength to raise up the pillars of a temple instead of pulling them down.

Eons of unceasing torment seemed to pass. In the utter blackness, unable to peer at his watch, Khan had no surefire way of reckoning time.
How long have we been trapped here?
he wondered, thanking his exemplary genetic heritage that claustrophobia was for lesser mortals.
How much longer must I endure?

Even his remarkable strength had its limits; Khan knew he could not support the ponderous column forever. Would he have to choose between being crushed to death or buried alive? And which fate would he choose for Joaquin?

“Joaquin? My friend?” Khan grunted through clenched teeth. The battered servant remained[165]

unconscious at Khan’s feet, oblivious to his master’s attempts to rouse him. Although the toppled column shielded the downed bodyguard from falling debris, Khan feared for the other man’s life. Joaquin’s breathing was labored and hoarse, his windpipe partially clotted by powdered stone. Racking coughs and incoherent groans rose from the unresponsive figure, the pitiful noises tearing at Khan’s heart. He knew that, superhuman stamina notwithstanding, Joaquin needed prompt medical assistance, yet it was all Khan could do just to keep the colossal pillar from squashing them both.
Fear not, my friend,
he vowed silently.
I shall not abandon you while strength remains in my arms.

Hunger and thirst added to Khan’s suffering. His lips were dry and cracked, tasting only the muddy trickles of sweat streaming down his face. From the angry rumbling of his stomach, reminiscent of the earthquake itself, he guessed that several hours had passed since his last meal, a small repast of minced lamb and yogurt consumed en route to the temple.
Damn you, Hunyadi,
he cursed silently. As he strained and sweated beneath the toppled column, which inched ever closer to his skull with each passing hour, his churning mind occupied itself devising fiendishly ingenious ways to torture the nefarious, one-eyed Romanian.
I must survive,
he resolved, exhausted but undefeated,
if only to wreak terrible
vengeance upon Hunyadi.

He heard the drilling first, before any light reached him. Just when he thought that he could not support the column any longer, as his pain-racked arms surrendered millimeter after millimeter to the pillar’s[166]

excruciating, slow-motion descent, the sound of a power drill cutting through rock reached his ears. For a moment, he worried that he was imagining the noise, that his weary mind and body had succumbed to an auditory hallucination, but the drilling noise grew louder and he realized that a rescue team was on its way at last.

“In here!” he shouted, risking a further cave-in. “Hurry!” It would be the bitterest irony, he thought, if his strength gave out only minutes before his rescuers reached him. He breathed in deeply, marshaling all that remained of his superior vigor and endurance.
No,
he thought defiantly,
Ishall not falter at the very brink
of our salvation.
Straining to the utmost, he pushed upward, actually succeeding in lifting the column a few centimeters higher. “Here!” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Quickly!”

“Your Excellency!”, an excited voice yelled over the noisy reverberation of the drill. Khan heard the rattle of small rocks rolling toward the ground, then an incandescent shaft of light invaded the darkness.

After uncounted hours lost in blackness, the glare seemed blindingly bright, but Khan welcomed the eye-watering blaze, knowing it to be the harbinger of his imminent release. “Hold on, Your Excellency!” a straining Exon warrior shouted through a gap in the piled debris; Khan guessed that the rescue squad had tunneled down from the central worship hall above. “We are working as fast as we can!”

Excellent,Khan thought, proud of the able supermen he had recruited to serve him.
How could I have
ever doubted them?
A superior human being can accomplish anything, as long as the will remains strong.[167]He shouldered his burden gladly, content now to wait patiently for his inevitable liberation.

You see, Hunyadi, you could not defeat me. The greater leader always prevails
. ...

It took several more minutes, working with admirable care, to clear a path to Khan’s place of imprisonment. Soldiers rushed forward to lift the column higher, allowing Khan to gratefully slide out from beneath the nearly unbearable load. For the first time in who knew how many hours, the weight of the pillar did not oppress him. He could barely lower his arms, though, which were stiff and numb from their labors. “See to Joaquin,” he ordered, determined that the bludgeoned bodyguard be treated as soon as possible. “Be careful; I do not know the extent of his injuries.”

While a team of engineers worked diligently to buttress the suspended column, along with the rest of the quake-ravaged shrine, an attentive doctor knelt beside Joaquin’s supine form, checking the unconscious man’s vital signs. “Multiple fractures of the rib cage, pelvis, and extremities,” the physician reported after a quick examination, “but his spine appears intact. There’s no indication of paralysis, although he’s suffering from shock and internal trauma.” The doctor glanced up at Khan, looking both relieved and impressed. “Given how many hours you were trapped here, I’m amazed he’s not in worse shape.”

“Joaquin is of hardy stock,” Khan understated, grateful for the genetic genius that had endowed them both with more than ordinary recuperative powers. Even still, he knew they were lucky to have been rescued when they were.
I could not have lasted another hour.

[168]As he watched over Joaquin, a paramedic bandaged Khan’s chafed and bleeding palms. Cool water was provided to soothe his parched throat, but he refused to leave the collapsed chaitya until he saw Joaquin carefully carried out on a stretcher. Although the bodyguard remained dead to the world, his agonized groans and whimpers mercifully subsided as powerful painkillers, administered by the well-equipped doctor, took effect.

Another stretcher was offered to Khan, but he preferred to exit the temple upon his own two legs, no matter how sore and fatigued they were. The remaining medics and rescue workers settled for escorting him back to the surface. They draped an army blanket over his shoulders, which Khan wore as proudly as an ermine cloak.

Ament met him beneath the arched doorway of the gopuram with a cup of hot
chai.
That she had been able to travel all the way here from Chandigarh, almost twelve hundred kilometers away, provided some indication of just how long he had been entombed within the wrecked temple. So, too, did the sunlight filtering through the cloudy, rain-swept sky. The rain blowing against his face felt cool and refreshing after his long, grueling internment within the temple.
The dawn has risen,
he observed triumphantly, consigning the darkness of the last several hours to the past.
A new day begins
. ...

“I am relieved to find you well, Lord Khan,” Ament greeted him. His fingers were still too cramped to grip the cup, so she held the rim of the cup up to his lips for him to sip. The hot tea tasted sweet and invigorating. “Joaquin’s misfortune saddens[169]me, but I am sure that, with time, he will recover.”

Although Khan’s body had yet to recover from its ordeal, his mind was already thinking ahead. “The quake,” he croaked hoarsely to Ament. “Somehow Hunyadi caused it.”

Ament looked unsurprised. “Details are fuzzy, but we suspect that someone exploded some kind of concussive device at the bottom of a nearby reservoir. In theory, sufficient force, added to the pressure of the water in the reservoir, could have overloaded an underlying thrust fault, triggering seismic activity nearby.” She wiped the caked-on dust from his face with a clean towel. “There is still much to be investigated, of course.”

No need,he thought venomously. Anger burned inside him like a funeral pyre.
I know who is
responsible.

Shortly, from the passenger seat of his private helicopter, Khan had an opportunity to witness the full extent of the disaster. A heavy rain was falling, but Khan could still make out the flattened remains of numerous small villages, many of which had been almost completely destroyed by the earthquake.

Traditional stone-and-mud buildings had collapsed upon themselves, no doubt crushing the sleeping inhabitants within. Elevated water tanks had crashed to earth, their spilled contents adding to the muddy chaos enveloping the countryside, the pouring rain making rescue efforts all the more difficult. Khan looked on the devastation with mounting shock and anger. Often, all that remained of once-prosperous villages were a few thatch huts, which, ironically, came through the quake in better shape than the[170]

more expensive clay and timber structures. The earth itself was ruptured in places, with jagged scarps of fractured bedrock jutting from the ground beside open chasms and fissures.
The very land is wounded,
Khan discerned,
as much as the pitiable wretches who dwelled upon it.

Seated behind him, Ament provided Khan with informed commentary on the tragic scene beneath them.

“Preliminary reports suggest that over twenty villages have been largely obliterated, rendering an estimated 130,000 people homeless. To make matters worse, the quake struck at exactly 3:53 A.M., when most of the residents were asleep in their homes. “Fatality rates remain unclear, but the final death toll may climb as high as 30,000 victims.”

Khan struggled to grasp the enormity of the catastrophe.
An entire population bombed out of
existence,
he marveled with growing fury,
and all Hunyadi’s fault.
He clenched his fists, ignoring the pain to his raw and bandaged palms. The helicopter passed above a ruined brick schoolhouse, now nothing more than a heap of collapsed masonry, and Khan’s desire for vengeance against the ruthless Romanian superman took on new dimension and urgency. Hunyadi had not only tried’ to eliminate Khan, he had also callously butchered thousands of innocent souls whom Khan considered under his protection.

A twinge of guilt reminded Khan that he had once contemplated a similar atrocity, deploying Morning Star against the population of Bosnia. But that had been in a moment of anger, ultimately superceded by Ament’s appeal to his conscience. Hunyadi had shown no such restraint.

[171]Justice demanded that Hunyadi pay for his crimes against Khan’s people, and Khan could think of no one better than himself to carry out a mandatory sentence of death.
“Fiat justitia et ruant coeli,”
he murmured solemnly, as the harsh rain splattered against the transparent canopy of the ’copter.

Let justice be done though the heavens fall.

DUNES HOTEL & CASINO

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

UNITED STATES

OCTOBER 1, 1993

“NO THANKS, I’M EXPECTING SOMEONE.”

Roberta sighed wearily as yet another amorous lounge lizard cruised away from her table, after offering to keep her company.
Here I am trying to keep a low profile,
she thought,
and suddenly I’m more
popular than Heidi Fleiss.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t chosen the darkest, most shadowy corner of the lounge in which to wait for her rendezvous. From where she was sitting, at the rear of the stuffy, smoke-filled lounge, she could barely see the stage, where low-wattage country star Sonny Clemonds was performing his novelty hit, “Don’t Send Me No E-Mail Unless You’re a Female,” to a mostly oblivious and/or intoxicated audience.

Judging[173]from the way Sonny kept slurring his lyrics, she wasn’t sure he was all that sober either.

Oh well,she reflected philosophically, taking a sip from a very watered-down cocktail,
I guess I can’t
complain too much if I’m still a wolf magnet at age forty-four.
She methodically scanned the lounge, keeping a watchful eye for any sign of genetically engineered superassassins. Nothing like a life on the lam to keep you in shape.