Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 24 Apr 2004 06:50:08 GMT In: alt.startrek.creative From: sisko2374@aol.com (Sisko2374) NEW TOS "Eugenics Wars 1: King of Siddhartha Street" Khan [PG-13] by Sisko2374 Summary: Delhi, India, May 1970. How a boy became a superman. The first story Disclaimer: Not for profit story. Paramount owns Star Trek but not ideas. Feedback: Sure Archive: ASC okay Harris adjusted his sunglasses and pulled the white jeep under the almost non existent shadow of a scrawny withered tree near a wall. Graham reached for the glove box, pulling out the pint of Johnny Walker whisky. Harris shook his head. "Little early in the morning for that isn't it buddy?" Graham tilted his head back, downing half the bottle. "Never too early when you're on this job pal. God! Why couldn't I have been assigned to Switzerland? Mountains, cool lakes, elegant hotels, trying to get some long legged blonde KGB femme fatale to defect. Now that would be a real assignment! Instead I'm a goddamn procurer. Makes me wanna puke." Briefly glancing up at the already scorching morning sun, Graham gently returned the bottle to the glove compartment. Harris chuckled and unfolded his airmailed copy of yesterday's New York Times. "More likely that long legged blonde Russki of yours would wind up getting you to defect. Believe me, you're right where you should be. A procurer for science and progress. Besides, you're not alone. There's a hundred other Company spooks around the world doing what we're doing right now. Just think of yourself as a pioneer for science. Anyway, who's going to miss these kids? Most of ‘em would wind up dead before they turn fifteen." Harris waved his right hand toward the narrow street, already alive with sidewalk vendors, beggars and lucky people rushing to jobs. "Just look at this place, it's a cess pool." Graham slumped forward., then turned and stared at Harris. "Have you ever seen those kids after they release them? Most of the time they can't even walk. They can't talk. They're crippled for life. And you call that science? Progress? What are we doing here man? Why are we a part of this ... this abomination?" Harris turned the pages of his paper. "Whoa! Too early in the morning for a conscience pally. Now I know you're soused. You're starting to sound like one of those panty peace-nik protesters back home. Speaking of which," Harris handed Graham the front page of the Times, "look at this." Graham stared at the paper. Above a picture of a young woman kneeling in shock and grief beside a body in a pool of blood was the headline: "National Guardsmen Shoot Into Anti-war Protesters at Kent State, Ohio. Four Dead, Ten Wounded". Her arms outstretched as she stared into the camera, she seemed to be not only appealing for help, but asking "why"? Harris snorted and shook his head. "Goddamn traitors one and all. Four? They should have killed four hundred." Graham moaned. "Oh man, this is bad, very bad. The whole country's going to explode." Harris turned and snarled, "Oh yeah? Well it's nothing compared to what's going down in the Army in ‘Nam. Our guys are killing off their own officers now. Can you believe that? Blowing ‘em up with hand grenades, shooting ‘em in the back. They've even got a name for it: fragging. I'm telling you the whole damned army is disintegrating. Everything's going to hell in a handbasket. So don't be shedding tears for anybody, okay? Forget those kids, forget those protestors, forget those traitors in ‘Nam, just shut up and do your job. Because if those miserable excuses for scientists ever get these DNA resequenceing enhancement injections to work right, we'll never have to worry about traitors again. By the way, have you got the candy?" Graham checked the Jeep's console. It was there all right. He almost wished it wasn't. Hey little boy, didn't your mama ever tell you not to take candy from strangers? He put the bag on his lap and looked inside. Yes, twenty four sedative laced jelly candies. The bag flew out of his hands. "Hey! Come back here! That's mine!" Graham leaped out of the jeep in hot pursuit of the small thief racing down the narrow crowded street. Harris swivelled in his seat, "Don't do it man, come back, let him go!" People bounced off Graham as he elbowed his way through the throng. The kid was only three yards ahead of him, if he could just... "Damn!" The boy ducked to the left and disappeared down a narrow alley. Graham frantically shoved aside a woman in an orange sarong, then dove for the shadowy opening. "Ooommph!" A dog could barely fit in this hole. It wasn't really an alley, just a crawl space between two buildings. But there was sunlight maybe forty feet ahead. Graham propelled himself sideways down the tunnel towards the light. It was a cul-de-sac. An oblong box no more than eight feet by four. He looked up. The sunlight was blinding after the darkness of the crawlspace. No way out but up and over the rooftops. Something heavy dropped down on his shoulders, wrapping its legs under his arms, pinning him. As a hand pulls his head back, a sharp blade presses against his throat, lightly breaking the skin. "Don't move," it hisses in Punjabi. Creatures stir from the shadows in the corners, coming towards him, one holds the stolen bag of candy sedatives. Instinctively Graham jerks back. The knife cuts a little deeper. "I said don't move. Get his wallet." Hands reach into his jacket, deftly searching. "I have it." Another hand reaches into Graham's shoulder holster, withdrawing his Walther PK. "Ooohh! Look what I found!" "Give it to me," the voice above his head orders. The left hand releases his hair, grabbing the pistol, pressing it against Graham's temple. "Kneel." Balancing with difficulty, Graham lowers first one knee then the other. As his captor dismounts, a hand pats Graham's left cheek. "Good elephant." The knife gone, Graham rubs the blood on his throat. "What do you kids want?" "We have what we want. What do you want?" Graham chuckles. "I want out of here, just give me my gun and wallet back, you can keep the money..." Derisive children's laughter. "We will keep everything and kill you as well." He swallows his fear. "Nah, you don't want to do that. I've got a lot more valuable stuff than candy back in my Jeep. I can get it for you." The voice walks around to his right, stands in the sunlight, pistol in hand, a boy no more than ten years old, straight black hair tied back. "We can go there ourselves and take it." Graham turns his head, looking the boy in the eye. Calculating brown eyes without warmth. "No, my partner's back at the jeep. He's armed. He'll be ready for you. You can't take him out in broad daylight. You need me." Eyes narrow, reading Graham's face. "What sort of valuables do you have in your Jeep?" "Jewelry," Graham lies. "I'll get you the jewelry, you can keep the gun and let me go." A moment of calculation behind the eyes. "All right. You will take us there. But if you are lying, you will die." Graham smiles, shaking his head. "I'm not lying man. I'll get it for you." Harris was leaning against the passenger side of the jeep as Graham approached with the gang of five boys behind him. "Thought you took off for Switzerland," Harris smirked. "But you brought back a week's work." "He's got my gun," Graham mouthed silently, tilting his head slightly toward the gang leader. Behind the sunglasses, Harris's eyes narrowed, his forehead a frown. "Have you got the jewelry? I've got some customers for you." Harris shook his head and stood away from the jeep. "No, I left it back at the hotel, in the safe." "You lied!" the leader's right hand reaches toward the small of his back. "No, man. Its just a mistake that's all. We can take you there. Everything will be cool. Isn't that right Harris?" Harris nods, "Sure we can do a deal at the hotel, that's where we normally do business anyway." "See?" Little beads of sweat are building up on Graham's forehead. Hesitation for a moment. Then the leader climbs into the center in the back of the jeep, motioning the others to follow. "We'll ride in the back. No tricks." Graham smiles, climbs into the passenger seat beside Harris. "No tricks. What's your name man? Mine's Graham, this is Harris." The boy folds his arms to his chest. "Khan." "Hey Khan, have you ever been to America? That's where we're from. You know, if you're real lucky you could go to America some day, even go to school there, learn lots of things. Wouldn't that be neat? Go ahead, guys, have some candy, you earned it." END -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Awards Tech Support http://www.trekiverse.us/ASCAwards/commenting/ No Tribbles were harmed in the running of these Awards ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek .creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Sun Apr 25 00:31:46 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n16.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.71]) by cockatoo (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1bhBfU1QN3NZFkl3 for ; Sat, 24 Apr 2004 21:28:38 -0700 (PDT) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13487-1082867299-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yah