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LIEUTENANT KEEGAN Khaliban
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Back to Part
1: The
Discovery
Page 1 of The Trial
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STARDATE -344175.11: March 5, 1979 Khan Noonian Singh watched the door close. He listened to the footsteps fade and the car start up. He heard it drive off. Next to him, Cordaro Rodriguez and Zi Lin stepped back, their steps quiet and their breath shallow. Little blond Joachim slid up the stairs and watched Khan. Philip Keegan lowered himself into the shadows of an alcove and hoped he was not noticed, hoped he had not been seen. Only Allyn McPherson remained unmoved, unsurprised and unafraid. Khan screamed. The dark Sikh turned and punched a metal support pole, bending it sharply. He grabbed Cordaro and spun him into Allyn, tossing both across the room. He took a marble statue and threw it into the far wall, cracking it into a hundred pieces. Zi rushed him, and he kicked the Chinaman into the closed door. He shattered a table and broke a chair into splinters. Allyn and Cordaro jumped at him. He shrugged Cordaro away and pushed Allyn to the ground. He took hold of Allyn's shirt and punched his face repeatedly. "You fucker!" he screamed on every other punch. "You fucker! You fucker! You fucker!" "Khan!" a genetic engineer yelled at his son. "What is–" he began, and stopped when Khan threw Allyn into him. Batch three and four eugenics ran into the room. With Zi and Cordaro, they piled onto Khan and held him down. Another engineer appeared. He stabbed a powerful sedative into Khan's neck. They held his screaming body for twenty minutes while the sedative took effect. Phil watched them carry Khan from the room, watched Zi and Cordaro pick up Allyn and the engineer, watched them leave the room and turn out the lights. He watched the empty room for two hours before he moved. He slid along a wall toward a window. He opened it, crawled out and crossed the compound to his building. He climbed the side of the building, opened his third floor window and pulled himself inside. He removed his clothes, washed off his sweat in the dark, put on his pajamas and went to bed. He did not sleep. Someone knocked on his door at first light. He rose and opened the door. "What is it?" he said to his sister. "What happened?" she whispered. "Nothing," he said. "Did you say goodbye to Grandfather?" "No. I wasn't there." "Grandfather said he would say goodbye to you." "I wasn't there," Phil told her. "But–" "I wasn't there!" he yelled. His sister started to cry and ran from the room. A batch five trained them at martial arts that day, not the usual batch three. She moved them along well enough. She smiled and laughed and showed them Grandfather's favorite moves. She said nothing to the suddenly quiet Irish boy. The next day, Khan was back. Khan was determined the six year olds should learn. "Philip, that stance is off balance." "Philip, that punch is too soft." "Philip, your kick is slow." "Philip, your sister can break the board, why can't you?" "Philip, for god's sake, keep up." "Philip, may I speak with you?" Phil walked to his cousin while his siblings left for their next class. "Philip, Philip, Philip," Khan said. "You are so much better than this. I know that you are." "Yes, sir," Phil said. Khan hugged the child close. "Cousin, cousin, no. I'm not angry with you. I'm disappointed. You are much better than this. Much better. You know that." "Yes, sir." Khan tsked a bit. "Are you sad you could not say goodbye to Grandfather?" Khan shook his head. "I'm sure he'll come back every once in a while." "Yes, sir. May I go now?" Khan smiled. "He would never abandon his favorite grandchild." "I'm not his favorite, sir." "Of course," Khan said slowly, stressing the second word. "Of course. Now, run along." Phil nodded and ran away as fast as he could. He reached the sculpture room and sat at his chair. Farrenc played from the speakers. Phil grabbed a piece of clay and crushed it around his hands. "What did he say?" Phil's brother whispered to him. "He said I could do better." "I meant Grandfather. Everyone wants to know what he said to Khan." "I wasn't there," Phil replied. "Sure you were." The boy leaned close. "What did he say?" "I wasn't there!" Phil said, standing. "Philip?" the teacher said. "I'm sorry, mother," he said to the genetic engineer. He sat down and pushed clay onto the bust in front of him. With his thumbs, he carefully formed the forehead of Khan Noonian Singh. * * * STARDATE 55217.57: First Day of The Trial Three admirals, a human, an Andorian and a Vulcan, all members of the Federation Council, sat and watched the accused. Across the room from them were two tables, prosecution and defense. Two people sat at the defense table, one sat at prosecution. Two women and a man, two commanders and a lieutenant respectively. Perpendicular to all three tables stood a full gallery. Admiral Kathryn Janeway sat in the front row of the gallery and waited. One of the admirals at the table struck a bell three times. "This tribunal is called to order," he said. He read a list of charges: mutiny, insubordination, interfering with the development of a sentient lifeform, lying to a superior officer and entering Starfleet illegally. The list, seven years of deception, took some time to complete. "How do you plead?" the admiral asked when he finished. "Not guilty," Lieutenant Keegan said. In the gallery, not a voice was heard, not a whisper, not a murmur, not a gasp. But Kathryn Janeway ground her anger into her teeth. "Mister Keegan," the councilman continued, "I strongly recommend you reconsider. We are prepared to dismiss all charges but the last and discharge you honorably. I'm certain there are many places you could put your talents to work." "But not Starfleet," Keegan said. "No," the admiral said, "Of course not." "My plea stands." The admiral sighed. "Has your co-counsel explained what will happen to you if you are convicted?" "I knew it before she told me." "Yes, of course," the admiral said, nodding. "Mister Keegan, you are charged with–" "Being born, Admiral." "That will be enough, Mister Keegan," the Andorian admiral said. "My apologies to the court, sir." The first admiral, Harmendra Chauhan, continued. "Mister Keegan, your crimes are formidable but also understandable. We are willing to ignore them, if you will leave Starfleet." "I thought Starfleet prided itself on its diversity and tolerance. If there is no room in Starfleet for someone who is perfect, where shall I go?" Admiral Chauhan controlled himself. "Perhaps a university." Keegan smiled. "Those who are not allowed, teach?" "That will be the last of that, Mister Keegan," said the second admiral, Bretu Pek, an Andorian male. "Again," he said, "my apologies, sir. But, I will not change my plea. I am a Starfleet officer. I intend to stay that way." "Co-counsel," Admiral Chauhan said, "will your client be persuaded?" Commander Anzhelika Ponomarev, counsel for the defense, shook her head. "No, sir. My client informs me he made this decision some years ago. I do not believe he will waver from it." "Very well," Chauhan said. "We will hear opening arguments in two days. Mister Keegan, are you certain you wish to serve as your own counsel?" "I have had seven years to prepare my defense, Admiral. I do not believe Commander Ponomarev, whatever her skill, could match my knowledge of the case or the regulations in question. However, I am satisfied with her work as co-counsel." "Very well. This court will reconvene in two days at oh-nine-hundred." * * * STARDATE 54685.84: Six Months Before The Trial, Three Months Before Voyager's Return to the Alpha Quadrant "Sit still," Tom said. "Why?" Phil replied, "It's not necessary for the scan." "You make me nervous," Tom said. "Oh." Phil looked at the two security officers stationed in the brig. "I heard you had a baby shower." "Yes," Tom said. "Sorry I couldn't be there." Tom stepped back. "Damn it, Phil, why couldn't you be a normal alien?" Keegan considered him a moment. "Look at those two," he said. Tom turned towards the officers. In the corner of his eye, he could see Phil slowly stand. The two security officers raised their phaser rifles and aimed them at Lieutenant Keegan. The frequency of the rifles was always set to fire through the force field. "We trained under Tuvok together," Phil said. "The day we passed our final tests, we replicated some real alcohol, went to the holodeck, got drunk, and promised we'd die for each other. They'll shoot me if I take a step toward you." He sat back down. It was some time before the rifles were lowered. "You lied to everyone," Tom said. "You gave me a reason to," Phil replied. "Why do you need to win every conversation? What does that get you?" "Nothing," Phil said. "It's something my grandfather taught me." "Why do it at all?" Phil shrugged. "Loneliness makes you do strange things." Tom finished his scan. "I'll have to analyze this," he said. "I'm sure the captain will want to talk to you." Tom walked to the shield. One officer aimed a rifle at Keegan. The other walked to the shield controls, deactivated it, pulled Tom out and reactivated the shield as quickly as possible. "I hate that part," Tom said, walking out. "So do I," Phil answered. * * * "Well?" Captain Janeway said. Tom put down his PADD. "I scanned him three times. I analyzed the data of each scan five times. I compared the data to the scans of Khan from the Enterprise. He is, without question, a eugenic from the late twentieth century." "Would the Doctor confirm your findings?" Janeway said. "No. He says he doesn't trust himself where the lieutenant is concerned." Kathryn Janeway simmered over the information. "Seven," she said, "Contact Starfleet. Let's get this over with." Two hours later, Tuvok and four of his officers removed Lieutenant Keegan from the brig and walked him to Astrometrics. Crewmembers filled the intersections of the corridors they walked, watching silently as they passed. Phil's eyes never left Tuvok's back, until Lisa Hununga came into view. He stopped in front of her, and four rifles turned on him. "Sorry," he said. "Tripped over something. Damn carpets are frayed." "I will have maintenance look into it," Tuvok said. "If you are done tripping, we should continue. We are on a tight schedule." Janeway, Chakotay, Tom and Seven of Nine waited in Astrometrics. Seven established the connection when Tuvok arrived, and Admiral Paris appeared on the screen. "Why is this man still in uniform?" the admiral asked. "Decency?" Phil said. Janeway leaned close to him. "Stop it, Phil!" she whispered. "I am in uniform because I am a Starfleet officer," he said. "Not anymore," the admiral replied. "You are dismissed." "With all due respect, Admiral, you can't do that," Phil said. "The regulation is clear," the admiral said. "Admiral," Captain Janeway began, "I'd like you to consider–" "Yes, Admiral, both regulations are clear," Phil said. "That regulation does not apply to me. You cannot summarily dismiss me because I am eugenic." "Yes, I can. Eugenics are not allowed in Starfleet." Phil spoke with a sneer in his voice. "But, Admiral, I am a victim of time travel." "What?" the admiral said, looking first at Janeway, then Tuvok. "The statute could be so interpreted," Tuvok said. "No, it couldn't," Admiral Paris said. "Statute?" Seven asked. Phil turned to her. "'No individual taken through time by any method against their will can be held accountable for any Federation crime that was committed prior to the birth or after the passing of the life of the Federation if a corresponding law did not exist forbidding the act at the time and place the crime was committed.' Eugenics was not illegal when I was born, and I did not travel here of my own free will." "It doesn't matter when you were born," the admiral said, "You are a eugenic. You cannot enter Starfleet." "Admiral," Tuvok said, "The regulation you are referring to was designed to deter genetic engineers or parents from providing children with an unfair advantage when applying to the Academy and removing the possible emotional instability found in many eugenics. The genetic engineers that constructed Lieutenant Keegan, however, did so without the knowledge of any Starfleet regulation. It is possible that he cannot be held accountable for their actions." "Are you out of your mind?" the admiral said. "I am a Vulcan," Tuvok replied. "And I taught law at the Academy." "It seems this is a matter of interpretation," Chakotay said. Keegan nodded to Chakotay. "'Upon being accused of treason against the Federation, Starfleet personnel may demand a trial conducted by the Federation judiciary. If the individual is acquitted, Starfleet Command shall have no further legal recourse against the accused in said manner.' I would like my day in court, sir." "Don't 'sir' me," the admiral said. "We are losing the signal," Seven said. "Shall we continue this tomorrow?" the captain asked. "Mister Tuvok," Admiral Paris said, "Review those regulations. I want a more detailed recommendation from you." "Yes, sir." "Paris out." "Phil," Chakotay said, "That was impressive if arrogant." "I've had seven years to prepare, Commander, and law was always one of my better subjects. And, Mister Tuvok," Keegan said, "I thank you for being Vulcan." "I am doing my duty, Lieutenant. If you will accompany me. I must return you to your cell." After they left, Janeway turned to Tom. "You were quiet." "I've never seen anyone do that to my father," he said. "I was enjoying the ride." * * * "Why are you here?" Phil asked the next day. Tom shrugged. "I was supposed to provide my father with the medical records. I'm sure he planned to praise me for their accuracy, then kick you out." "Well," Phil said, "I'm glad you're here anyway." "The connection is ready," Seven said. Admiral Paris appeared on the screen. A commodore and a lieutenant commander stood next to him. "Let's get this over with," Admiral Paris said. The commodore stepped forward. "Admiral, we are here to listen to Mister Tuvok's recommendation and hear Mister Keegan's case." "Very well. Mister Tuvok, what is your assessment of Mister Keegan's claim?" Tuvok raised a PADD. "After review, I find Lieutenant Keegan's case has merit. I recommend a tribunal to decide the matter. I also offer myself as either prosecutor or defense attorney. Commander Chakotay is sufficiently knowledgeable to serve in either capacity as well. Captain Janeway would serve as mediator, and we would present our arguments daily to the tribunal." "Well thought out," the commodore said. "The Federation council has reviewed yesterday's exchange and Mister Keegan's case. His unique interpretation of the statutes is worthy of consideration. However, we have elected to prosecute him on the charge of mutiny instead." "My recommendation for the proceedings of the trial remain, sir, whatever the charge," Tuvok said. "I am confident of that, Mister Tuvok," the commodore said. "But the trial proceedings may prove difficult. We ask, therefore, that Mister Keegan accept the decision of an Arbitrator instead." "No," Keegan said. "A trial presented in the manner Mister Tuvok has outlined could take months to complete," the commodore countered. "I'm not going anywhere," Keegan said. "You would rob your crewmates of their time with their families?" "I'll use my three minutes a month for the trial. After all, I don't have family." The commodore sighed. "We have chosen a Vulcan Arbitrator." "Commendable," the lieutenant said, "But no. I want my trial." "No," Admiral Paris said, "I will not have a eugenic in Starfleet." "You mean another one?" Keegan said. "Julian Bashir has proven himself," Admiral Paris said. "So have I," Keegan replied. "But, that's not what I was talking about." The admiral shook his head. "You mean that nonsense about the Academy? I don't believe it." "I didn't think you would," Phil said, "But, that's not what I meant either. My people did not leave the world without progeny." Everyone, even Tuvok and Seven, reacted. "What?" Captain Janeway said. "Admiral," the lieutenant continued, "I believe your wife had an Olympic athlete in her family, a four time gold medalist in the triathlon. He lived in the mid twenty-first century." "You bastard," Tom said softly. "Scan yourself, Tom. Your scans don't lie." "My mother's great-grandfather was an ensign on the Reliant," Tom said. "I know," Phil replied. "I always thought that was a hell of a coincidence." The lieutenant commander, an intellectual looking woman, finally spoke. "Did that bother you, Lieutenant?" "Did what bother me?" Phil asked. "The incident aboard the Reliant," she replied. "It bothered me that I couldn't see it happen." "Really?" she said. "Why?" "Because I hated that fucker." "Khan?" she said. "Yes," he replied. "Why? Wasn't he the best of you?" "He was the best tactician," he told her. "So," she said, slowly, "Why did you hate him?" "Kirk knew him for a few days and hated him. I grew up with him. I hated him in ways none of you could ever imagine." She thought for a moment. "What did you call yourself? A batch ten eugenic? We have never heard of the different batches. How do we know that story is true?" Keegan chuckled. "And you were doing so well. Don't ask the obvious questions." "We are losing the connection," Seven said. "Starfleet will consider the new proposal," the commodore said. "Do you have anything else to say?" Admiral Paris asked. "Yes," Phil replied, "If it's any consolation, you're clean." After a moment of smoldering, the admiral said, "Starfleet out." The screen went blank. Janeway walked up to Keegan. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you feel the need to alienate every person around you?" "If I were accommodating, Captain, I would be dismissed by now. They may hate me, but they will give me my trial." "Yes," Tom said. "And call into question every human in Starfleet." "Score one for the pilot," Phil said. "Is it true?" Janeway said. "Yes," Phil answered. "Maybe eight percent of the population is so tainted." "Were any of the children yours?" she asked. "No. I never had children." "My piloting skills?" Tom said. "Natural talent," Phil replied. "The genes are so dilute, I doubt they affect you at all." "Look at that," he said. "I have family on board. Maybe I should name my daughter after you." Keegan smiled. "If you name your daughter Phyllis, B'Elanna will throttle you." Tom shook his head. "Well, I'm glad I could be here to help you." * * * STARDATE 48316.8: The Day of Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant Philip Keegan smeared gel from his eyes and opened them. Bright white attacked him. He winced, rolled onto his side and shoved himself onto one elbow. He lay naked on a metal floor in a large room with white walls. Behind him stood a glass cylinder, open and dripping the gel. Other cylinders lined the walls sized from one small enough for a cat to one that held a humped back whale. All the cylinders were occupied with the preserved remains of various species. Except the whale, he could recognize none of them. Phil pushed himself to his knees and staggered down again. The dizziness passed, and his strength began to return. He stood and fell. He stood again and fell against the wall. When the nausea stopped, he pushed himself off the wall and stood and waited and breathed until standing did not bother him. He walked along the wall until he reached a door. He found it locked. And the next. And along the long wall, door after door, until the third from the last opened. He found a shower that didn't use water in the room beyond, which he used, and a robe, which he put on. He saw a door on the other side of the room and walked to it. When he reached it, a man's voice spoke to him. "I'm sorry," the voice said. "I didn't want to hurt them. I'm glad I could let you live." The door opened to a curved corridor. Windows, widely set along one wall, showed him black space and stars and nothing else. He touched a window as if trying to touch the clean darkness of space itself. He turned down the corridor. After some minutes of walking, he saw a flash through the windows. He looked out and saw a vessel, gray and battered and shaped like an airplane. It flew past, followed by a much larger vessel. If the windows were any clue, the second vessel was the size of a battleship, and it moved with the speed and maneuverability of the best fighters he'd seen. In those windows, he thought he saw humans. The writing on the side of the ship read "U.S.S. Voyager". It had a long nose section and was shaped like an inverted spoon attached to a distorted cylinder. Two box shaped things hung off the cylinder on pylons. Philip Keegan thought it was the ugliest design for whatever it was he could imagine. A yellow-orange particle beam fired from Voyager's nose and struck the smaller craft. A force field around the smaller craft blocked the beam, and it flew out of sight. Voyager followed. Phil started to run along the corridor, stopped himself when more nausea hit, then walked at a fast pace until he reached a new door. The door opened to a room with more doors. The doors opened to rooms or corridors with more doors and rooms and so on until he heard voices. He opened that door and found many beings, mostly human, in a large room. All wore long white robes. "Did you find anything?" someone called out to him. "No," Phil said. Something else, masculine but not human, asked him a question. "Did you think that was going to get you anywhere?" it said angrily. "No," Phil replied, "But it gave me something to do." "I'll never understand humans," it said. The one who called out to him, a man who sounded familiar with command, spoke again. "What you understand doesn't matter." He turned to Phil. "You're sure you didn't find anything useful? A comm, a transporter, some equipment we could use? Do you know where we are?" "A space station. I found a corridor with windows." Phil considered for a moment. "I saw Voyager fly past." "That's something, at least." "I'm not going back with the Federation," the non-human said. "Fine. Stay here," the man said. "The rest of us want to go home." They started moving. Phil's story seemed to inspire them to action. He stayed in the back, listening to them, watching them. He could understand the non-humans, though he could tell they weren't speaking any language he knew. They were two factions, both of mixed species, one called Federation, one called Maquis, and they hated each other. Each group believed he was part of the other side, but they were too busy and resentful to compare notes. He could guess he had been in suspended animation. Centuries may have passed. He looked close at the humans, but they did not show any eugenic traits. Most displayed some physical training, but none of them could move the way he did. After an hour of wandering, a group of men and women in yellow and black uniforms found them. They carried rifles. One of the women in uniform tapped a badge on her chest. "Voyager, Munro here," she said. "We've found another group." "We have you," the badge said back. "Ready to beam you out." The people around Phil began to separate themselves into groups of six. They stood in circles an arm's length from the next in the group. Some of the Maquis faction protested, but their leaders shouted them to silence. Phil stepped into a random group, filling up a sixth spot. He watched as blue light and electricity swallowed one group, consuming them completely and fading to nothing. Then another group. Then two at a time. Then Phil felt static along his skin, heard a high pitched humming and smelled ozone. The world around him disappeared into liquid electricity. When it faded, he stood on a raised platform in a much darker room. The group he had traveled with rushed off the platform and he followed. More people in uniform guided him to a large room. It looked like storage and was set up like an evac unit. A man aimed a calculator at him, tapped it a couple of times, then tapped a panel above a small recess in the wall. Blue light filled the recess and became clothing. The man handed him the clothing and led him to a curtain to change. Phil put on a gold jumpsuit, a black shirt and black boots. They all fit perfectly, better than anything he'd ever worn. "What's your name?" something not human said to him when he stepped out. It had a face like a wild boar. "Philip Keegan," he said. "Phil, my name's Retut. Do you have any special skills?" "No," he said. "Good, then you're in maintenance. Come with me." Retut led him out of the room and down the hall. He walked into another room filled with debris that some people were working on. "Here," Retut said. "Help clean this up. Are you good with tools?" "No," Phil said, "But I learn quickly." "I'll get you some textbooks later." He walked out. Phil walked among people with blank eyes, bruised skin and torn uniforms. He followed their lead, never lifting more than the other humans. They worked for hours, in silence, the time broken by two meals and eventual success. When they finished, one of the women leaned against a wall and said, "The Delta Quadrant. I don't believe it." "That's the military for you," Phil said. "What?" she replied. "You know," he said and found only confusion. "It was just a joke." She sighed. "I know it was a joke. It was inappropriate. Random negative commentary won't help the situation. If you have a problem with command, tell them not us." "Sorry," he said, "I guess I was raised differently." They sat against the walls without speaking until Retut returned. "Good job," he said. "Go back to your rooms and get cleaned up. Get some sleep. We'll start on Cargo Room Two tomorrow," He turned to one of the workers. "How'd he do?" he said, pointing at Phil. "He didn't give us any trouble," the worker said. "Good." He looked at Phil. "Come with me. I've found you a room. The crew is below complement, so you get it all to yourself. It's a little out of shape, so you'll have to fix it up." "Hey, what's another couple of hours work?" he said. "Good attitude. You'll do well here." Retut took him through damaged corridors and down two levels, stopping at a door. "Here you go," he said. "The replicators on this deck are off-line, so try not to get hungry. See you tomorrow." The damage in the room surpassed expectations. Phil decided to leave it until later. It wasn't much worse than a college dorm in any case. It had a bed made from two cots, a couple of chairs, a bathroom, a shower, a recess in the wall he took to be the replicator and something like a desk with a screen above it. He sat down in front of the screen and looked around it. "How does this work?" he said. "Please restate question," the panel answered. Oh, of course. "Show me... show me any historical information you have on... Khan Noonian Singh." The screen displayed text: Khan Noonian Singh, considered foremost among the eugenics. Undisputed ruler of one fourth of the planet Earth at the height of his power. He escaped justice at the end of the Eugenics War by placing himself and eighty-three other eugenics in cryo-stasis aboard a DY-100 series planetary transport. He was eventually– "Stop," Phil said. "Display a full historical record of the Eugenics War." As he read, he could hear Khan's voice and the voices of the other eugenics giving their orders. He read the background of the war, then an overview of the conflict, then the text displayed the details of the war. He stopped on one paragraph. He reread it four times. He fell against the desk reading it. He finally closed his eyes to it, crushing them shut, trying to force the words from his eidetic memory. "You bastard," he whispered. "Please restate request." "YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" he screamed and punched his fist through the panel.* * * Page 2
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