Suicide is a puzzle of words.

In 1926, a Budapest waiter named Antal Gyula walked into his workplace, Café Emke (Emke kávéház). He then entered the restroom where he shot himself in the chest and head. In his pocket was found a crossword puzzle, which, he declares, would explain his reasons for suicide.

After a century of problem solving by puzzle masters, the answer remains a mystery.

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Then again, is there something more and so less at work with Khan that runs deeper than perhaps even he understands? Kirk, he complains, exiled me on that barren sand heap and never bothered to return to check on my progress. This is the cause that he claims justice for. But is it not really only the effect? Have you ever read Milton?, Khan asks Kirk aboard the Enterprise just before he is exiled. And face to face they understand each other. Khan does not ask for a wellness check.

Yet the Khan we now meet is not entirely the same tyrant banished and fallen so he can rise again. There is outrage and vengeance but is there not something else at work? There is. On that planet of swirling sands Khan was wore down. Khan was a little bit broken. He became sorry for himself. And self-pity breeds two-fold contempt that gnaws and warps.

The truth is that his singular purpose, mind and body and spirit, was no longer to conquer the galaxy. He just wanted that wellness check by Kirk. But he did not want a wellness check by Kirk so Kirk could check on his wellness. He wanted the starship captain to return and beam down to survey and revel in the humiliation. And Khan would raise the gates for the conquering hero to enter. He would welcome Kirk with open arms and play the generous host. No hard feelings and water under the bridge. There would be tours and banquets and the exchange of tales of struggles and hard-won victories. And Khan would bide his time. Lull through hospitality and humility and smiles. Smiles everyone. And then Khan would pounce. Lots of pouncing. And gloating. And a very long speech prepared and practiced in the course of decades to be performed. And Kirk would have to listen. A captive audience, chuckle. And then, in the manner of a Vercingetorix and not a Caesar, Kirk would be put to the sword. Or strangled, technically. Garrotted most likely. And Khan would do it personally and with great pleasure. And this is how Khan would heal what was broken and restore what was severed from him.

Khan waited. He readied himself. But Kirk never returned. And the shame of defeat became brokenness as the greatest humiliation of being defeated and then forgotten about. To be erased from the memory of the victor who had simply moved on to the next episode. At least Vercingetorix was paraded through Rome and put on display. At least then the fallen chieftain could display his dignity and fortitude in defeat and death and be remembered for it. Khan played to an audience of sand dunes.

So now Khan has a starship. He has stolen a powerful weapon called the Genesis Project. He has absolutely outrageous strength and the freedom to travel anywhere in the galaxy to conquer new worlds and civilizations. But he seeks Kirk instead. And so we pick our way through the Mutara Nebula searching for each other.