Maximum Security Detention Facility, Qo'noS, 2375
Krang stood by the force-field, looking out into the corridor. He wanted to pace, but there would be guards watching from surveillance cameras and he would not give them the satisfaction. Besides, the holding cell that was his current accommodation was tiny and with only the most basic amenities – a hard metal bunk to sleep on and a latrine. It would take … he paused to calculate… no more than five or six steps to reach the other side. No, he would not pace.
When the judge had decided that enough was enough for one day and called for an adjournment, Krang had expected to be released to return to his home. He had wanted to spend this evening talking with his wife; they needed to talk. But that was not going to happen, the Klingon thought petulantly, not tonight and if he was convicted, not ever.
With the court in recess, the judge had got to his feet and with a sharp gesture, he gave the guards their orders. Obediently, the guards moved forward, two of them coming to stand on either side of Krang. One of them grabbed his upper arm and shoved him, the force of the gesture pushing him off balance and turning him away from the guard. At the same time, the guard started to twist his arm, forcing it behind his back as he reached for the other arm. Realising that they were attempting to cuff him, Krang reacted instinctively, pulling himself free of the man's grip with a low, dangerous growl and turning to face him, his free hand going to his knife and drawing it from its sheath as he prepared to defend himself. He had walked into this courtroom voluntarily and he had not yet been convicted. How dared they manhandle him in this way?
Almost immediately, he was surrounded by disruptors as the guards reacted to his aggression. Momentarily caught by surprise, Mackenzie realised what was happening and acting to prevent a disaster, he stepped forward, quickly approaching his friend. "Krang, don't argue!" he said urgently. "You can't fight here. Just go with them."
Slowly Krang nodded, acknowledging the truth of his brother's words. To cause a fight here in the courtroom would achieve nothing more than turning the judge against him. "I will do as you ask."
This time, when the guards moved, Krang did not resist, allowing them to disarm him and pull his arms behind his back. He felt cold metal and heard the heavy click as the restraining cuffs were fastened.
Not done yet, Mackenzie faced the guards, holding out his hand for the knife. "I am Cha'DIch," he told them with a very good approximation of a Klingon growl. "You will give his d'k tahg to me."
As they complied, Krang offered Mackenzie a slight smile of gratitude. "Look after Chrissie for me."
"I will," the Terran promised.
Keeping their disruptors trained on him, they manoeuvred him away from the dock. One of them pushed him with a little too much force and Krang stopped, turning his head to face the guard. Even cuffed, he would not tolerate their disrespect. "Do not shove me again," he warned in a low voice, something in his expression telling the guards he was deadly serious and that he was more than capable of carrying out his threat. "Otherwise, I will kill you."
A little more respectfully this time, the two guards started to guide him towards the exit and into the waiting transport shuttle.
The forcefield flickered warningly as he leaned a little too close to it, and again he fought the urge to pace. He had only ever been incarcerated once before, as an adult anyway… twice, no… three times if he counted the incidents in his youth that had got him into trouble with Homeworld Security. Ironically it had been those childhood arrests that had laid the foundation for his eventual choice to join Imperial Intelligence. With nothing to keep him occupied, other than pacing those five or six steps in each direction, Krang allowed his mind to wander, to remember.
Qo'noS, 2232
The youngest of three children, Krang's childhood had been a normal, happy one, marred only by the usual sibling rivalry and the occasional fight at school. That had all changed after the deaths of his parents - his mother in a shuttle accident and his father six months later in battle. The news had rocked the family. Krang's older brother had tried his best, but he'd been only twenty at the time, a lieutenant in the Defence Force, young and inexperienced, too young to have to put his career on hold and take on the sole care of a twelve-year-old girl and a ten-year-old boy. And unfortunately, Krang did not make it any easier.
The boy had run wild, skipping school, stealing and getting into fights. He was picked up twice by Homeworld Security and disciplined, but the final straw came when he was arrested by Imperial Intelligence and taken in for questioning.
The fact he was a child didn't incline the guards to gentle treatment of him. The rebellious boy kicked and struggled to get free as he was hustled through the corridors towards the cells. He came very close to succeeding. He had broken free and was about to run when a heavy blow struck the back of his neck, knocking him senseless to the floor.
He awoke to find a stern-faced officer in a black uniform standing over him. He wasn't completely familiar with the ranks of that organisation, but something told the boy that this man held high rank. It would be several years before he learned that his name was Meth and that he was a security captain, deputy to the operations master and second in command of Imperial Intelligence.
The man folded his arms and glared at him. "Well now... what do we have here?" he asked coldly.
Krang stood up in an effort to feel less intimidated. Approaching his eleventh birthday, he was already taller than most of his friends. He folded his arms and tried to pretend he wasn't scared.
"Sit!" the man barked.
To his surprise, Krang found himself obeying, "I'm not a targ," he muttered.
"No, indeed you are not... But you are in serious trouble."
"That's nothing new," the boy shrugged.
"Oh, I think it is," the security captain answered. "What's the worst trouble you have been in so far?"
Krang shrugged again, "Spent a week in the cells at Homeworld Security."
"Do you know whose home it was that you broke into, boy?"
"Some rich guy from the look of it," Krang said. "He had lots of stuff."
"He is indeed very wealthy... the Romulan Ambassador to Qo'noS."
The boy froze at that. "Oh Kahless!"
The security captain raised an eyebrow at hearing that name invoked. There were few now who admitted to following the Unforgettable One. The Way of Kahless had long since fallen out of favour, although he was one of those who hoped for a revival. Honour was something the empire desperately needed but currently lacked. This was interesting and he filed it away for later consideration. It would not be advantageous, though, to give the boy any indication of his thoughts.
"Indeed!" he growled. "Unfortunately, prayers cannot help you in this situation. You are facing several years hard labour on Rura Penthe... as well as an impact upon the honour of your House."
"Rura Penthe?" The boy was horrified. "For stealing a few trinkets?"
"For causing an interstellar diplomatic incident… one that almost precipitated all-out war."
Krang blanched, for the first time beginning to realise just how serious this was. "I... I am sorry."
"What are you prepared to do to atone?"
"Whatever I must," Krang said resolutely, "Sir, will you tell my brother I am sorry? That I didn't mean to dishonour the House?"
"That is something you must do for yourself. Your trial is set for tomorrow."
Krang hesitated for a moment, then reached up and pulled his House insignia from his sleeve, laying it on the table.
"What do you hope to gain by doing that, boy?"
"If I am not part of the House," Krang said, "then I cannot dishonour it any further."
"You aren't the head of the House... you have no power to decide who is or is not a part of it."
"That's not fair!" Krang protested. "My brother doesn't deserve this."
"Perhaps you should have considered that before you dishonoured him," the man answered implacably.
The boy fell silent, bowing his head in shame.
"You will spend tonight in custody. Your brother has been contacted and told of this incident."
"I... yes, sir." There was nothing more the boy could say.
"You really didn't know whose home you were breaking into?"
Krang shook his head, "No sir, it... it was a dare."
"A dare?" the man raised an eyebrow and gestured for the child to continue.
"The older boys dared me," Krang explained, "They thought I'd be too scared to do it."
"And?"
"So, I did."
"Did you not consider your actions to be wrong?"
"Well, that's the point of rebelling, isn't it?" the boy asked reasonably.
"What are you rebelling against?"
"Everything... " Krang said. "It's not fair, they just left me."
The boy was an orphan, Meth remembered. "You are referring to your parents? You miss them?"
"I don't miss them," Krang snapped, "They left me!"
"They died." Meth said thoughtfully. "And you blame yourself."
The boy's face, already pale, whitened even further. He looked down. "They died because of me," he said miserably.
The security captain frowned. "Why do you think that?"
"Because I was bad," the boy said, "Momma got called into the school because I was in trouble and her shuttle crashed. And then Vav got upset and left and he died as well. So, when they died, I figured I might as well prove them right"
Prison wasn't going to sort this boy out, the Security Captain realised. "You were bad?"
"I never meant to be bad," Krang said earnestly. "Meren and Kaghren were always so perfect, and I couldn't live up to them. So, I stopped trying."
"I am a father myself," the officer told him. "I do not want my sons to be perfect. I want them to be the best they can be and to live honourable lives."
Krang considered that carefully. "I... understand, sir"
"And speaking as a father... I believe you would keep the memory of your parents alive by trying to live up to their example and not sibling rivalry."
Krang nodded, "I'll try sir."
"Now... what of your punishment?"
The boy gulped. "I'll accept whatever you decide, sir."
"Krang, I want to you swear to me that you will never ever dishonour your parents' memory with such disgraceful acts again."
Krang hesitated. That was a big promise, an important one and it deserved proper consideration before he committed himself. Eventually he nodded. "May I borrow your knife, sir?"
Even armed, the boy would be no threat to him. After a moment's thought, the security captain unsheathed his d'k tahg and reversing it in his hand, held it out, hilt first.
Taking the blade, Krang took a moment to admire the fine workmanship before slashing open his palm. "You have my blood oath on it, sir."
It was well done, and the security captain nodded in approval.
Wincing slightly, he'd never actually done this before and had cut deeper than he'd meant to, Krang handed the knife back.
"Once your brother arrives tomorrow morning, we shall consider the matter closed. However, if I hear of you in trouble again, I shall throw the book at you."
Krang nodded, "Yes sir, I... thank you sir."
The officer touched the comm. and called for a guard to escort Krang to the cells, where after a long, lonely night, he had been released into the custody of a very angry older brother.
Maximum Security Detention Facility, Qo'noS, 2375
Krang twitched at the memory of Meren's long-ago fury. To this day he still bore the scars on his back from the beating his brother had given him.
It had been years later, as part of his training that he had next found himself in a prison cell. An intelligence agent had to be able to withstand torture and a high-ranking officer even more so. All the recruits knew that at some point they would undergo the training, but they were not told when or how it would happen - those who failed did not survive and the ones who succeeded were under orders not to speak of the test. The first he had known that it was his turn was when the guards had come for him in the middle of the night, pulling him from his bunk, shoving a bag over his head and manhandling him into a shuttle. Waking from a deep sleep and knowing only that he was being attacked, he'd fought savagely in a futile attempt to free himself, managing to kill one of them and seriously injuring a second.
What followed had been unpleasant, deeply so, but temporary and he had known that if he remained strong, he stood a good chance of surviving.
This was also temporary, he reminded himself. One way or another, he would be here only a few nights. When… if… he was acquitted, he would be free to return home with his family. If not… no more than a day or two at most before he was taken for execution. Krang took a deep, shuddering breath at that thought. He was not afraid of death, nor did he fear pain, only dishonour. Krang could only hope that if it came to that, he would die well.
Note: Meth is borrowed from John M Ford's novel 'The Final Reflection'