Kobiyashi Maru

December 29th, 2063. London, England.

A tall man rushed up the steps and into the large brick building in the center of the city, mind, despite his panicked movements, perfectly calm as he debated the events of the past year.

So much had changed for humankind.

So quickly, as well.

January, 2063. NASA announces the first spacecraft, built for a crew of sixteen, capable of long term space travel at hyper speed. Now, planets hundreds of thousands of light years away are reachable in a single, cryofrozen generation.

February, 2063. NASA scientists pick up an unknown signal from 23,600 light years away. It sounds like static at first, but two young, genius scientists by the names of Edward Marcoh and Syaoran Li found a pattern within it, leading to the decryption of a hidden message: "Prepare the ships for war."

March, 2063. First contact. An event that would go down in universal history. A relatively calm encounter between humans and a similar race called Vulcans, but an encounter that opened doors to a new universe.

May, 2063. Marcoh and Li find another war cry broadcast through the universe. Earth, out of their depth, prepares their nuclear weaponry and hopes for the best. The new Vulcan allies are alerted of these events, but no news is received back.

August, 2063. No news from the Vulcans for three months. Humans begin to ponder and develop stronger weaponry, afraid they are running out of time.

September, 2063. The Vulcans finally respond. They assure the war-happy leaders of humanity that the cries intercepted were a simple conflict between the Klingons and the Romulans. While this is accepted by most of humanity, a few select leaders- including one Admiral Lewis Heathridge- have their doubts.

Oh, yeah. That's him.

Then it was even more of a rush.

October 6th, 2063. Earth joins the Federation.

October 24th, 2063. A ship full of other alien species arrives on earth to aid in the building of an academy for Starfleet- the exploratory branch of the Federation's military.

November 1st, 2063. Secretly, Earth's highest Federation representatives and a select group of Starfleet superiors meet to discuss a new program… a new way to fight intergalactic wars.

November 6th, 2063. The new program begins.

And now, today, December 29th, 2063.

Today was the day it all began.

Assuming Lewis managed to get there on time, that is.

"Shit," he swore under his breath, running through the pouring rain.

He would have to admit: he really should've stayed at the speed limit yesterday. But noooo; instead, he had to try to get to the store in twenty minutes instead of twenty five. Thus, he was faced with a totaled car and a race through the rain.

Great job, Lewis. Great job.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he swore, splashing through a large puddle in his dash.

He stumbled up the stairs at the front of the building, nearly tripping over his own two feet in his rush to get inside. The door opened with a slam, and the girl at the front desk barely had time to shout- "Late." "I KNOW!" "Third floor, room 19." "THANK YOU!"- before he had bypassed her (and the elevator) and began to run up the stairs.

He ran into the room, slamming the door open in his wake.

Then he cringed.

Bad idea, Lewis. Bad idea.

Every eye of every Starfleet officer in the room directed themselves at him.

"Um..." he swallowed, then cleared his throat, regaining his composure, pulling off the rain-soaked jacket and draping it over his arm as he saluted with the other. "My apologies that I'm late."

"Accepted," the Romulan admiral nodded. "In fact, we were still waiting on-"



A smaller body slammed into Lewis's, knocking him to the ground.

He groaned, and the smaller boy hastily climbed off of his back, face bright red, and…

Wait, were those ears on top of his head?

They made the boy like a bloody Lord of the Rings elf… but… on top of his head.

What race was this kid?

"Second Lieutenant Maccabee," the Romulan sighed. "Glad you decided to show up."

The young man looked down at his feet, but ran over to the seat open at the commander's side quickly, muttering a quiet, "Sorry, sir."

"Now, now that everyone is here..." The Vulcan captain raised an analytical eyebrow. "Why did you call us here, Admiral Heathridge?"

Lewis nodded, trying to straighten his soaked uniform to look presentable again. "Yes, sir."

He cleared his throat. Okay, Heathridge, he told himself, you've been over this a million times. Get ready.

And with that, he launched into his speech.

"Ladies, gentlemen.

"As you know, this past year has been eventful for Earth. Between first contact, quite the scare with the intercepted war declarations-" he paused, and there was a small titter of laughter- "and becoming the new Starfleet headquarters, for us humans, the universe suddenly got a whole lot bigger.

"But, given the scare we received, it's come to our attention that the planet Earth is vastly and completely unprepared to face any intergalactic threat. All our weapons that could do any harm to other, more developed species would also do an insurmountable amount of damage to our own, in return- such as the nuclear bomb and our other forms of atomic warfare. This is the reason we haven't used it against ourselves, and using it against an alien race could result in even more apocalyptic events. And while, as a race, we are more than willing to accept your help, Starfleet elite… we must be prepared to defend ourselves alone."

A general murmur of agreement echoed through the room.

Lewis hesitated here, nervous about the repercussions of his next sentence.

"That being said, against your high judgement, I feel I must report to you that me and my men have begun to develop these new weapons."

That was met less with a murmur of agreement and more of a roar of outrage.

"Admiral Heathridge, you had instructions not to do anything like this without permission from-"

"Heathridge! You lying little-!"

"Admiral, you are not allowed to-!"

"Under rule 23, law 190, subsection 12, you should be disavowed from-!"


The Vulcan Admiral stood at the head of the table, face still calm as he bellowed out the command.

Surprisingly, it worked.

Every single command officer sat back down in their seats slowly, their glares still trained at Heathridge even as their mouths shut.

"Thank you," the Vulcan nodded. "Before judgment is passed, the whole story must be heard. Heathridge… continue."

Lewis took a deep, slightly shaky breath, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

He cleared his throat, beginning anew. "As I had been saying before, I feel obliged to inform you of my mistakes. It is true, I had broken the rules, and, as a Starfleet officer, should be treated as both a traitor and a treasonous villain. But no more. As of yesterday, the highest ranking officials under me in this endeavor approved the final call on the projects. In exchange for exoneration for this act…" Lewis drew in a deep breath, "we are willing to share our advancements with you."

There was a general murmur of contemplation from the crowd, and Lewis anxiously held his breath.

The voices of the admirals and commanders lowered dramatically, and, out of courtesy, he tuned them out, waiting for his own emancipation... or extermination.

Finally, a voice grew louder over the general murmur.

"What were your advancements?" The Romulan asked calmly.

Lewis let out his breath. This was one answer he had been prepared for. "I hoped you would ask that."

With that, Lewis snapped his fingers.

"May I introduce you to our project… or rather, Erik Ahlström and Khan Singh."

With that, two young men entered the room, escorted by guards, looking, to the common eye, entirely unextraordinary. Both were tall and lean, but something dangerous glinted in both of their eyes. The shorter male's chocolate hair was properly trimmed, in a neat military style to match the stiff grey uniform he wore. Despite his professional appearance, he seemed a bit nervous, only sliding into the 'at ease' position when Lewis nodded to him. The other was nearly his polar opposite- where the smaller's skin was colored like pure cinnamon, his was pale and porcelain in color, with unruly black hair flopping over his face. He wore a thick, black officer's trench coat over the grey uniform, slouching back with what seemed to be no regard for the people in the room. But most of all, he differed from the smaller in that he held a different gleam in his eyes- while the younger seemed determined and a bit prideful, his eyes looked dangerous. They held a malicious gleam to them, sending a shiver even down Lewis's spine, though he had seen them many times. But beneath that, Lewis could see just a bit more. A bit more of the boy before the young man came to be. A glint of a protective spirit, a selfless sacrifice. But of course, no one else saw that. Hell, it'd be a miracle if the young man even remembered that. He wasn't a boy anymore. The smaller child wasn't a boy anymore, either. Neither of them were even human anymore.

A murmur came through the crowd of officers, eyes skimming these dangerous children.

No, they weren't humans anymore. They were weapons.

"What is the meaning of-..."

Lewis looked over.

The Vulcan first officer who had been speaking hesitated, rephrasing his thought. "What do you mean, Admiral Heathridge, by 'project'?"

The admiral nodded, glancing back to the boys. "Khan?"

To the surprise of everyone in the room, the pale boy was the one who answered, sliding into a more prepared position. "Yes, sir."

Three security guards stepped forward from the back of the room, and the pale boy turned towards them, body suddenly sharply tense.

A small murmur went through the crowd.

The three men stepped toward the young boy, all four sets of eyes glinting with malice.

Despite himself, Lewis lets his mind slip into a purely analytical state, watching the inhuman boy use tactics he had long ago taught him.

He saw the boy's eyes whip over his opponents, cold, calculating, looking for weaknesses.

Like Lewis, the boy found them easily.

Despite the officers being about mid-range, they all held tactical weaknesses that could easily be exploited. Lewis saw them easily- he had known the men for longer than Khan had, after all- but he knew the boy was picking up on them just as easily as someone much more experienced. One favored his right side. Another favored offense to defense. The last, though much more well-balanced than the others, had a tendency to slowly stop guarding his moves, relying on his opponent getting weaker rather than his own strength maintaining.

All were manipulable weaknesses.

And all, Lewis knew, were seen.

The boy took the chance.

The first guard recoiled, dodging what seemed to be a hit towards his right side, but, as Khan had already noticed, he left his left unguarded.

So, instead, the young boy slammed his fist into the guard's ribcage, making him curl into himself.

Khan hit the floor a second later of his own accord, the second guard's hand flying over where his head had been into the nose of the first, sending him down, as well.

The third guard tried to take Khan's unfavorable position to his advantage. However, the cunning boy saw the foot flinch before it had the chance to advance, rolling quickly out of its path and allowing it to make contact instead with the crumpling first guard's male parts, whom then emitted a shriek of pain before falling backwards, hitting his head on the ground, and falling unconscious.

A murmur of surprise rolled through the crowd, and Lewis smirked.

One down, two to go.

Khan used the chance given to get to his feet.

From there, it didn't seem too hard to Lewis.

Khan continually dodged as both guards tried to hit him, rolling under their fists and hopping over their kicks. Not a single hit landed on him, but the guards got more and more infuriated.

Khan jumped out of the way of one hit, jumping to the side, standing normally as the two guards prepared to face him, one from behind and one in front.

The guards were more timid this time, expecting him to jump out of the way.

"Well?" The boy said, his voice echoing through the quiet room, a quiet, smooth baritone. "I'm right here! Open target!"

He threw his arms out to the side.

The front and back guards both reared up for a punch.

Khan jumped.

Both guards' fists slammed into the others' faces, knocking them both to the ground as Khan leapt high, rolled tightly into a ballish form, and tapped safely, once again, to the ground.

Three guards collected on the floor, unconscious.

Khan wiped his hands off, saluting Lewis for a second before leaning against the wall, not a bead of sweat or a sign of physical exhaustion on him, save boredom.

The room stayed silent, all eyes on the young man.

Then the Romulan commander sighed. "That still proves nothing, Heathridge. The boy may be young and talented, but he's not any more special than our trained operatives. This proves nothing."

Lewis shook his head. A problem, sure, but not one he hadn't expected. "I understand, but that's not all. Khan is just the most skilled of the specimens in the fighting range. It was just a demonstration of the augments' fighting ability. There's still much more."

As he spoke, both augments tensed, near imperceptibly. Nearly.

Lewis saw a flash of concern fly over the older boy's eyes, flickering toward Erik.

The younger's body tensed, lean muscles tightening a bit. Only Lewis noticed.

Khan's legs tensed, poised to run or charge.

Lewis knew he wouldn't dare.

He snapped his fingers, and Erik stepped forward slowly, rolling up his sleeve.

Another guard stepped forward from the back of the room, handing over a pocket knife to Lewis.

"Heathridge…" the Vulcan warned.

The Ankari captain stood slowly, hands tensed.

"Just watch," Lewis promised them, his words a bit harsher than before as frustration boiled over.

You'll see, he chanted to himself. You'll see I'm right.

You'll all see! I'm right!

Lewis grabbed Erik's revealed arm a bit too roughly, squeezing hard enough to leave behind bruises on a normal person.

Erik's lips pressed nearly imperceivably closer together.

The only two who could have even noticed the reaction to the pain would have been Khan and Lewis.

But Lewis was much too far gone, too focused on proving he was competent than on the young boy's reaction.

If he had been, he would've realized something was wrong with the cadet. If he had been, he wouldn't have carried on.

But he didn't pay attention to his pain.

So he continued.

I'll prove them wrong.


Imperceptible wince.


I'll prove it!

He flipped the pocket knife open quickly, slicing it down the young boy's arm, leaving a deep gash down to the suspiciously white bone in its wake.

The young boy, unnoticed, tensed again, trying to remain his calm composure.

The older, just as secretly, moved a hair closer.

Noticed, however, was the red liquid flowing from where Lewis still held the dark arm.

The commanders let out cries of outrage, decibels louder than before, as most jumped to their feet.


"THE F-"



The boy from earlier- Second Lieutenant Maccabee?- drew his arms in close to his body, eyes slipping away from the current scene, as if reliving a past event.

Even the Vulcan flinched.


The one word from Khan managed to draw all their attentions back to the small boy.

Heathridge finally released his arm, and the imperceptibly tremulous boy held it still.

There was a beat.

The Indian boy's icy eyes narrowed, staring down at the cut.

Another red drop hit the floor.

Then, slowly, something amazing happened.

Slowly, like two wires, narrow veins reconnected in front of their eyes. Like two glaciers, muscle filled in its proper placings. Skin, like moss, grew slowly on top of the red patch. The red viscous liquid ceased to flow, what remained on his skin seeping back as if down a drain.

Before their eyes, the boy's arm had healed, good as new.

He removed it from their sights slowly, falling back into what seemed to be his standard pose of 'at ease'.

The previously hectic room remained speechless.

Lewis, despite himself, smirked.

"May I present... my project."

The standing generals sunk back to their seats, awestruck.

"Thank you, boys, that's all for today," Lewis nodded, barely acknowledging the boys as they both turned and walked out.

He continued to stare out at the elite of Starfleet, triumph echoing through his mind.

I did it, he chorused. I really did it.

"Well?" He asked impatiently. "Have you reached your verdicts, sirs, ma'ams, admirals?"

Silence continued to resound throughout the room as the elite turned to each other, debating silently.

They have, Lewis thought- no, knew. They're with me. They saw my army, and they want in.

"Yes, I think we have," the Vulcan finally responded.

"I'm in," the first Romulan agreed.

There was a sigh, then a "Me, too," from the others of his race.

The Betazoid woman nodded.

"Agreeable enough," the Ankari admitted.

"With some finer conditions later, of course," the Deltan captain agreed.

The Terrellian first officer nodded, as well.

More murmurs filled the room.

With every agreement, Lewis felt more and more confident.

I'll go down in history for this. 'The most effective weapon in the galaxy was engineered by Admiral'-no, maybe something better, like 'Emperor Lewis Heathridge'-

"Overall," the Vulcan interrupted his train of thought, "I do believe we are in agreement. Whatever advancements you have made on the... the..."

"Augments," Lewis supplied. "We call them augments."

Elsewhere, the guards escorting the two augmented boys turned down a separate hallway, allowing them their limited freedom once again.

As the need for appearances disappeared, Erik crumpled to the ground, clutching his once-again bleeding (though not quite as profusely) arm, wound, though shallower, reopened.

Khan's eyes flickered with a protective instinct unnoticed by most, and he moved quickly towards the young boy whom he had long ago labelled his brother.

"Yes." The Vulcan commander accepted Lewis's word with a slight nod. "Well, these 'augments' do seem to have traits that no other race yet known does."

"You didn't have a chance to turn your pain sensors off before he did it, did you?" Khan asked the young boy as he gently moved the bleeding arm from Erik's grasp to his own.

Erik hesitated, but shook his head slowly, eyes downcast.

Khan sighed, pulling him up gently and leading him into the nearest room. He picked up the young, suddenly very small-looking boy, despite his protests, and set him on the table as if he were still a child, then proceeded to begin looking through the cabinets for the first aid kit he knew was hidden somewhere.

"Yes. Among other traits specific to just a few, like Ahlström's healing ability, they were designed to be very agile, five times as strong and twice as intelligent as a normal human. They're resistant to sickness and have enhanced senses- they can see farther, hear better, there's even a few who are like humanoid bloodhounds. Their hearts are twice as strong; their lungs can function in nearly half the amount of air ours require; they're even somewhat resistant to phasers. That's not even mentioning their blood, though. Their blood is practically the fountain of youth. If someone was on the verge of death, even a pint of their blood could bring them back."

Khan sat calmly in the chair in front of Erik, meticulously wrapping the bandage around his arm as the bleeding slowed and the young boy stared off into space.

The older sighed. "Erik, it's not your fault."

He swallowed hard, refusing to meet Khan's eyes.


"It is, though," the boy whispered, a timid, shaky tenor. "I'm not... right. What... whatever I am, it's not... balanced. I can heal, but I can't... I can't... ugh, my head..."

Erik gently removed his arm from Khan's grasp, pressing both his palms to his forehead. "My head... keeps moving around in circles... I'm not strong like I'm supposed to be... and I can't... my head's unstable. I'm supposed to... be able to turn everything off and on and off and on... but my head... there's a disconnection... not working right... all going in circles, and it's all so wrong, and..."

The Vulcan thought for a moment. "They do seem engineered near perfectly for war, and, as weaponry, they would do quite well."


The boy tilted his head up, meeting Khan's eyes.

"Erik, you were one of the first; not everything's going to be perfect, but survival is all that matters, and you did that. You survived, you are here, and you are good enough."

"But... I'm not better. I was supposed to be better."

"You are better. You just met the elite of Starfleet, and you and I both know you could've easily taken them all down, even if your strength isn't the same as what the rest of us have."

"Yeah, but you're supposed to be the warriors. I'm supposed to be the doctor. I'm supposed to heal myself quickly and be smart enough to heal all of you. I can't do either! I'm just... so wrong."

"But, Heathridge, the question arises... with such great abilities, how can you guarantee they would stay on your side?"

Khan sighed, grabbing Erik's hands away from his face and gripping them lightly. "First off, bull, you are smart. You beat me at chess the other day, and I thought I had every strategy there was memorized."

Erik laughed shallowly. "You let me win."

"No, I didn't. Secondly, I can't heal at all. That's only you. Even if you didn't do it perfectly, you did more than any of us could. Even if your head does freak out a bit, you do deserve to be here. So, in the slang of the humans, shut up, you dork, you're good enough!"
Erik let out a laugh, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Ass. ...Thank you, though."

Khan laughed, as well, rising to his feet and holding out a hand for Erik to climb off the table. "You're my little brother. You're fine just as you are."

"Oh, that's because of how the subjects came to the experiment. You see, none of them had anywhere to go before now. I'm sure by now a few of you have visited London? You've noticed the particular homeless children problem. In exchange for participation in our program, the children were offered a home, three meals a day, new clothes, basic essentials. A fresh start. Even if that wasn't enough... well, a large part of the program is rewiring and advancing the brain. In order to do so, it forces what we call a 'hard reset'. They forget everything about who they were before, save skills their bodies had learned, like eating, walking, education skills. Of course, we tell them everything important- their names, their ages, about their new powers, how they were orphaned and volunteered. If they came in groups, like Erik and Khan, they sometimes have residual bonds that emerge again, despite the lack of memories, but that's only a further tactic we can use to ensure loyalty. They'd never leave their friends behind. It's practically foolproof. Plain and simple, they don't have anywhere else to go."

Erik smiled back at him, pulling Khan toward him and clutching his trench coat. Though Khan tried to convince himself that the younger boy hadn't said anything, anyone who listened closely may have heard something that could be easily mistaken for 'I love you, too'. But, of course, they were augments. There was no room for feelings. So Khan convinced himself it wasn't.

Still, he ruffled the boy's hair. Not all affection was bad, he reasoned. So long as it was limited. "Now, go get some sleep. I know healing wears you out."

Erik smiled, letting go of his coat. "See you to train tomorrow?"


Khan held the door open, allowing both to exit.

Erik went right… Khan went left.

The Vulcan nodded. "Alright. Thank you, Admiral. I do believe we'll be in touch." He looked out at the rest of the group, giving one last nod. "Dismissed."

No one really noticed the Romulan whisper a quick phrase to Maccabee. Nor did anyone notice him sprint quickly from the room.

Anyone, that is, but Admiral Lewis Heathridge.

A hand reached out from an enclave, pulling Khan in with it.


He was met with a familiar head of dark blonde hair, slicked back by one too many coats of gel, dangerously glinting grey eyes, and skin just a bit too pale to be healthy, all fitted on a taller, older, but not quite muscular body, a hungry grin perched on his face.

"Well, Khan, that was quite a good performance today," the man said, holding the slightly shorter teen by his wrists. "You'd almost think you were trying to impress someone."

Khan's eyes flickered between wide and narrowed, skeptical of the events around him.

Something was off...

Not the eyes; he recognized them too well. Not the hair; it was as greasy as ever. What was it?

"You know..." the man smirked, voice dropping a step, "if you want something, you can always just ask..."


Blue ring.

That's not an Earth stone.

But it's still familiar...

"Knock it off, Maccabee," Khan groaned, pulling away his wrists. "You're being ridiculous. Come on, back to normal."

The changeling, in a very non-adult way, pouted childishly, morphing slowly back into the odd appearance he had worn at the meeting a few minutes before. "You're no fun, K..."

"Ah," Khan reprimanded. "Not today's form, either. The form you usually have."

The young man sulked again, but slowly melted down, the sandy blonde brightening to a warm lavender, ears moving down and melting into a more Vulcan shape, and neon eyes switching to a glowing, but still more muted grass green. His still-thin body shrunk until he looked no more than a child- only twelve or thirteen years in age.

Matching the new appearance, Maccabee stuck his tongue out at the augment.

In a very non-childish way, he muttered, "Dick."

Khan shook his head, silently fighting the urge to feel bad for the boy. He knew his usual antics were well above the age level he often pretended to be, and he knew the cause was not a pretty situation. Still, it wasn't a good excuse for how he acted when alone. Still, it also wasn't enough to make Khan angry at him.

"What does Soje need?" he asked instead. "I know you're here for him."

The young boy immediately straightened, turning his attention back to the matter at hand. "Right. Commander Soje was wondering..." He waited here for a moment, eyes glinting again and a playful smirk on his features. "He was wondering if you and the other empowered knew when you'd be giving another demonstration. You know, to make sure Heathridge's program was going as planned."

It took less than a minute for Khan's mind to click what he meant. Not augments, but fighters.

The rebels.

"Did he say anything else?"

Maccabee smirked again, trying to play the dumb card, even though he knew perfectly well what he was referring to. "Oh, I don't know... something about a grounded ship?"

"Ground the ship," Khan corrected, a smirk matching Maccabee's own appearing over his features.

"Disavow the captain," Maccabee agreed.

"But you can't bind the stars' own faction."

"Or else, beware the chain reaction."

Khan let out a breath. "321 Malcolm Way. 'Starfire'. 23:15. Make sure you actually tell him this time, alright?"

"We'll be there," he vowed. "...But I did a good Heathridge impression, right?"

Khan rolled his eyes. "With any luck, this program will be shut down soon, and Heathridge will be behind bars."

"They all think it's fair, though," Maccabee groaned. "They're all convinced it's the perfect wartime escape plan. Heathridge, despite his faults and general... asshole-y-ness, did a good job convincing them that this wasn't kidnapping and illegal genetic experimentation. Even though it is."

"We aren't at war."

"They think we are."

Khan's eyes darkened, menace falling over his features. "If they think empty threats are war... then they have no idea what's about to come at them."

Maccabee rolled his eyes. "We'll win, dipshit. You know that. You have your army; I have mine. We have loopholes all over the damn place. There's no chance in hell that this could go downhill. We're ready, and we're gonna win."

Khan allowed his anger to diffuse, nodding back at the boy. "Right."

"I gotta get back to Soje," Maccabee sighed, slipping out of the enclave and into the hallway. "23:15. See ya then!"

The boy quickly morphed into a guard, then sprinted down the hallway.

Khan stared at his retreating back, thinking about the two boys he had protected for so long. One was on his side... but one was not. One would feel betrayed. One, according to the Rebellion, would be his enemy. One, he knew, would feel permanently betrayed.

But he wouldn't let him be hurt.

Even if he would never know it...

"If it's all to protect you... we'll win. We'll win. We'll win."

He just didn't know that, in a few hundred years, this would be called a Kobiyashi Maru. He just didn't know that there was no happy ending. He just didn't know that, even if they got the program shut down, nothing would go as he planned.

He just didn't know that the fight he had worked so hard to orchestrate would fall to ruin.

He just didn't know that there was no way to win.

And Khan just didn't know that he'd have to wait over two hundred years to see any of his friends- his family- again.

Hello, Dearies!

So I saw Into Darkness the first weekend it was out and instantly fell in love. However, that being said… the week before, I had finished Legend by Marie Lu (which is killer, so read it ASAP if you haven't yet!), so I spent the whole movie secretly hoping Khan was the one in the right, like Day. Seriously, that's the reason for the new series: take liberties, change things for the better! They had a great opportunity here!

So I decided to tell the story as I would have written it. This is my version of Star Trek: Into Darkness... with Khan in the right, a few choice plot changes, and my character thrown into the mix for good measure, Gemini Kylee Scott. (I'm sure you already see her plot twist coming, but oh well.) She will be here mainly just to be the eyes the story is told through, though she does have a hand in tipping the scales. Until then, however, she's just here to make side comments :). She is seventeen, as well, just in case you were curious.

I also have had to make a few minor plot changes before the movie even begins, though, just so I could handle the events myself. (Relax, dears, there are only three.) The first is this: the Augments' old backstories never happened. They have new backstories, but they will be revealed fully in a later story in this arc (though some of the characters and the pre-backstory were revealed here). The second is the number of Khan's crewmates changes. For management purposes (and because *here be spoilers* they will eventually be woken up), there are only 15 as opposed to the original 72. The last is perhaps one of the most important changes: Kha- cough, cough, John's age. I am a teenager still, and I plan on giving him several POVs (not in this particular book, as this is only told in Gemini's POV and third person, but in later stories he will), so, as I can only write in a teenage POV, Khan now has to be younger- I am pushing it a bit and making him 21, which is a bit outside my usual comfort zone, but it should be worth it.

Sorry for the rant. I hope you enjoyed the updated prelude, and, without further ado, enjoy the story!


Edit Dec. 29, 2015- New prelude~! I noticed a lot of people were reading the prelude, then not reading the rest. I understand (cuz I wrote the first prelude super weirdly), so I was working on rewriting it... since August (*winces*). Sophomore year sucks okay? Okay. However, it worked out well. I get to post it on the day the events take place, which is really cool! So, I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for hanging with me!

Disclaimer (because I always forget and feel the need to do it right off the bat so I won't): I own none of the Star Trek people, machines, or a fair portion of the storyline. I do, however, own Gemini, the events she causes, Khan being good, most of his new crewmates (sorry, you won't be seeing them again until towards the end of the story), and the idea and original storyline in this book.