The Court of Justice, Qo'noS, 2375
Needing a moment to compose herself and gather her thoughts, Chrissie paused, lowering her eyes to the hands clasped in front of her and studying the wedding ring Krang had given her, twisting it nervously. Caught up in the story she was telling, the various legal officers and councillors attending the trial were quiet as they waited for her to continue. She must have been quiet a little too long because the judge spoke up, interrupting her thoughts. "Do you have more to say, wife of Krang?"
Reluctantly, she raised her head and looked at the judge. She'd been happily married to Krang for several years now, but even so, reliving the events of that time was not easy, especially when, whatever denials they made, her testimony was being used as evidence against her mate. "I do," she confirmed, before taking a deep breath and continuing her story. "I think I surprised the soldiers. They weren't expecting me to be so calm… but I was numb. It didn't feel real and I just… didn't care."
Late Evening, the day of the bombing
Sentenced to death? They were going to execute her husband? Slowly, she nodded. "I understand." She felt nothing but calm acceptance and maybe… a little relief. Diego would never hit her or force himself on her again. "I've been expecting something like this."
She should be screaming… protesting… begging for his life… she knew that. He was the father of her children. She'd loved him once – part of her always would, but he had betrayed her trust and as far as she was concerned, their marriage was over.
His cousin on the other hand – she'd been frightened of him for a long time, and she had no doubt at all that he was dangerous, just not to her. When she'd needed someone, he'd been there for her, asking nothing in return. Miguel… Oh God, Miguel! Had he been with Diego, or had he escaped arrest? She needed to know.
She was going to have to be very careful in her phrasing of the question, Chrissie knew. If he had somehow avoided detection, she did not want to draw their attention to him. "Did you… was anyone else arrested?"
Unfortunately, they were several steps ahead of her. All the prisoners had been thoroughly interrogated and they had been expecting her question. "You wish to know the fate of your lover?" the younger one growled. "We made several arrests, including the cousin of your mate. He is also awaiting execution."
"No! Oh no…" Her eyes widened with shock and distress and despite her best effort, Chrissie was unable to hold back her sobs. Her legs gave way under her, and in an effort to prevent herself from falling, she reached out blindly, catching hold of one of them by the arm. "Please… don't…"
The Klingon looked down at the feminine hand on his fur-lined sleeve. It was small but her grip was surprisingly strong. "Do not bother to beg."
She shook her head in distress. "Please… just… don't make him suffer."
Finally, the soldier noted, he was seeing the reaction he had expected earlier, but it was the lover she was pleading for, not the husband. That was interesting and he mentally filed the information away for further consideration.
"Leave my mama alone!" Fascinated by the 'monsters', Antonio had, up to now, been quiet and well behaved. But now they were making his mother cry and that was not acceptable to the child. Snatching up a light-up toy sword, he attacked the alien, whacking his thigh with the plastic blade and at the same time, kicking at his ankle. "Don't hurt her!"
The soldier growled instinctively, preparing to defend himself against the unexpected threat, but relaxed as he realised it was just the child. Grinning, he gently but firmly reached down and pushed the little boy away. He squatted, lowering himself to the child's eye level before promising, "Your mother will not be harmed."
"You hurt her and you will regret it," the boy said resolutely, giving the soldier a fierce glare.
"Antonio, that's enough," Chrissie warned. "Put your sword down now." The Klingon soldier had been more tolerant than she had expected; in fact, she thought, he had seemed very respectful of the child's courage, but she was afraid of pushing him too far. She would be forever grateful to her son – his actions had given her the moment she needed to pull herself together and he would never know how much he had helped her in that moment.
The soldier stood up again, moving to Chrissie's side and taking a firm hold of her arm. You will come with us, now." At a sharp nod, the second soldier moved to her other side and together, they started to push her towards the door.
Belatedly she remembered their first comment about taking her in for questioning. Grief would have to wait; she could not afford to break down now. "Please… wait..." she begged, "I'm on my own here. Let me call my neighbour to watch the children; they are too young to be left unsupervised."
The older of the two snapped an order and his subordinate moved past her, further into the house, a wicked-looking gun of some sort held raised and ready for use. It would be an energy weapon, Chrissie knew; Klingon technology had advanced way past projectile weaponry. She guessed he was carrying out a search, confirming her claim that there was no-one else present and looking for any evidence. It was not a large house, and his inspection did not take long. He returned, giving his colleague a nod and the two spoke briefly together in their own language.
To Chrissie, accustomed to the lyrical flow of Spanish, their words had a hard, staccato quality that made her feel threatened. It didn't help that she knew they were talking about her. They seemed to come to some sort of decision and then the older one removed an odd, rather boxy looking device from his belt and pressed a button. It made a chirping sound and a moment later he spoke into it, glancing at Chrissie several times. A communicator of some sort, she realised. Again, the subject of his conversation was obvious, and her nervousness increased. A harsh voice replied, with what she guessed were orders or instructions and the soldier acknowledged before deactivating the device and putting it away on his belt again.
"That will not be necessary," the older alien said, finally answering her request. "We are permitted to question you here."
"Thank you," she said sincerely, aware that they were making a major concession. "If you will allow me to get the children to bed, I will answer any questions you have."
The Court of Justice, Qo'noS, 2375
"After that," Chrissie continued, "they asked me a lot of questions about my husband and about Miguel as well. I think they were trying to find out how much I knew about their activities and whether I could lead them to other members of the resistance. It went on for a long time and they kept repeating the questions and rephrasing them, trying to catch me out. But neither Diego nor Miguel ever talked about what they were doing or who they were working with, and I had no information to give them. They left eventually after informing me that as the wife of a known terrorist, I would be kept under observation… and they said…" Chrissie shivered at the memory of their parting words.
Stepping outside the house, the older of the two had turned back, "One last thing. By rights, your presence at the execution would be expected. You have been excused from that, but you should know that it will be broadcast on your television networks. I suggest that you do not watch any of the news programmes – legal or otherwise - over the next few days. I have no doubt that you would find them… distressing."
Chrissie stopped again, her eyes faraway as she remembered. Numb with shock and grief, the days had passed in a blur as she mourned someone she had not even realised that she loved. Oh, she knew it would not have worked out between them, that there would be no long-term relationship and she hadn't wanted one, but still… he had been kind to her, and she could not bear to think of him tortured and killed.
With Diego gone, Chrissie had thought that she might not need to leave Spain, that she and the children would be safe in their home, but Diego's mother had made it clear that she did not consider Chrissie to be a fit mother and that she wanted custody of her grandchildren. Chrissie loved Spain and would miss living there but she no longer felt safe. She had no idea if Miguel had been able to make the arrangements before his arrest and execution, but if the car he had promised did turn up, she had no choice but to leave.
She was not particularly surprised when Sarah told her that she wanted to go with them. The American girl had no reason to stay in Spain on her own; she had only come to the country to visit her friend and she didn't speak the language very well. At least in London, people (mostly) spoke English.
Diego's cousin had not let her down. The car pulled up outside her house in the early hours of Sunday morning and within an hour or so, they were on their way to England.
By motorway, it was almost a six-hour drive to Luarca but major routes were monitored and, in an effort to avoid detection, their driver had kept to country roads, making it a much longer journey. In deference to Chrissie's pregnancy and the low boredom threshold of two young children, they made regular rest stops. They had been travelling for almost a full day and it was getting dark by the time the car arrived at the tiny, picturesque harbour where a little fishing boat with the whimsical name of Rocinante was waiting for them. The tide was almost at its highest and in a hurry to get under way, the boat's skipper hustled them onboard with a minimum of fuss.
The sea crossing was surprisingly easy. The Bay of Biscay would never be smooth sailing but at this time of year, high summer, it was relatively calm, and it was with some embarrassment that Sarah, the widow of a sailor, found that she suffered from seasickness. Chrissie was luckier. Other than a little nausea and cramping, that she told herself was caused more by pregnancy and the smell of pilchards than the motion of the boat, she weathered the journey fairly well. Her son, Antonio had the time of his life – clad in an oversized lifejacket, he spent most of the voyage 'helping' the skipper to steer the boat and asking question after question about the fishing gear and how everything worked. Roughly twenty-four hours after they had set sail from Luarca, the Rocinante slipped into Eastbourne harbour under cover of darkness.
From there, it had been a case of loading the sleeping children into the waiting car and a short drive to London where Chrissie's brother was waiting anxiously for their arrival.
David had thanked the driver, offering to pay him for his trouble, but the man assured him that he need not worry, it had all been taken care of. Miguel had apparently thought of everything and again, Chrissie felt a pang of grief for his death.
David was glad to have his sister back in England where she was safe and he could keep an eye on her. Sarah was also made welcome. He'd only met his sister's friend once before, but Chrissie had talked about her often and he felt as though he had known her for years.
With three adults and two children, David's apartment was a little overcrowded, but they would manage until he had the time to find somewhere a bit bigger. Situated in a pleasant residential area about half a mile from the nearest tube station, there was a park across the road, that David told her contained a duckpond as well as a play area with swings and a slide that would be ideal for the children. It had been on her way to the park with the children the following day, that Chrissie had realised she was bleeding.
Some of Chrissie's testimony had caught Krang by surprise. He had always thought she loved her first husband, that they'd had a happy marriage and that she had grieved for him. She had never told him of the neglect or the abuse or even that she had eventually, however briefly, taken a lover. He did not know how he felt about that – part of him was hurt that she had never chosen to trust him with the truth. Another part of him was furiously angry and savagely glad that he had made Diego suffer before he died. Yet another part was torn between jealousy of her lover, long dead as he was, and guilt at having killed him. The man was still a killer, he reminded himself, a cold-blooded murderer. No, he decided, he did not regret his decision.
His wife was speaking of the miscarriage now and aware of her distress, Krang's tension increased. He knew how hard this was for her and sensed that she was on the edge of breaking down in tears.
Abruptly Krang decided to act. There was a murmuring in the audience as he stepped forward, making it clear that he wished to speak. The judge held up a hand for quiet and the spectators unwillingly obeyed. When silence fell again, he fixed Krang with a stern glare, wordlessly letting it be known he did not appreciate the interruption. "You have something to say, son of Marek?"
Krang nodded. "Yes, I do. We had been on Earth for almost two years when the Federation got involved and I first met my wife. There is nothing more she can tell you about the early days that is of any relevance to this trial. I believe that now would be a good time for you to hear about what the Klingons were doing during that time."
Bowing his head, the judge acknowledged the truth of that. "Your mate has given us much to think about. However, the hour grows late. We will stop and reconvene tomorrow morning. He raised the heavy globe and brought it crashing down. Court is adjourned."