USS Endeavour, 2375
"They did what?" Kehlan stared at Mackenzie and Chrissie in complete disbelief as she listened to their story. "But… why?"
With the trial over for the day, Mackenzie, had brought Chrissie back to the Endeavour. The promise he had made to Krang to look after his wife was one he took seriously.
Anxious to hear their news, Kehlan had been waiting for them in the transporter room when they had beamed up, Chrissie's older children at her side.
After greeting her offspring, listening patiently to their excited accounts of their day onboard Endeavour, and being reassured that her younger children were tucked up safely in bed with a member of the nursing team watching over them, she had accepted Mackenzie's invitation to dine with him and Kehlan in their private quarters.
Kehlan had been cooking and with Antonio's help, had rustled up a fairly credible tortilla Española and some salad, which she supplemented with some of the less 'offensive' Klingon foods. Mackenzie's quarters – and they were her quarters as well, she reminded herself with some wonder – had a small but fully equipped galley, which was well stocked with a wide variety of ingredients, all of which had been brought up from the planet or grown in the ship's hydroponics garden. It turned out that the teenager liked cooking and she had taught him how to make gladst, a brown, leafy dish which had a flavour reminiscent of Terran mushrooms. It was easy to prepare, and she knew it was one of Chrissie's favourites. Gagh on the other hand, was noticeably absent from the menu, much to the relief of both Mackenzie and Chrissie.
With dinner over and Antonio and Josefina occupied in playing a holo-game, the adults' talk had inevitably turned to the trial.
Mackenzie shook his head as he answered Kehlan's question. "I have no idea. I don't understand it myself. Kehlan, you're the Klingon expert here. I'm his Cha'DIch. Was I wrong? Should I have defended him instead of…"
"No!" she interrupted him emphatically. "You did the right thing. A fight in the courtroom would have been disastrous. What I don't understand is why the judge did that. It just doesn't make sense."
Chrissie sighed. Actually, it made perfect sense and she was bitterly aware of the irony that she was the only one who had actually been expecting this.
She could not even honestly say that she regretted it. Right now, she needed a little respite, some peace and quiet to think and to process the events of the day. There had been things spoken of in the courtroom that she had never discussed with Krang – partly because she had never considered it any of his business and partly because it still hurt. But telling the story of the invasion had brought back all the horrors of that time… all the pain, the terror and the grief. Caught up in the memories, details had just slipped out that she had never intended to reveal, and she knew that some of those had angered or even hurt her husband. They had to talk; she knew that… just not right now.
She had watched with a combination of fear and exasperated pride as her mate had challenged the guards who were manhandling him. Even on Earth there were martial arts that concentrated on the feet and lower body and Chrissie was certain that even with his arms restrained, he could defend himself with lethal force. The guards too had realised it and she had been glad to see them ease up a bit in their treatment of him.
The Krang she had met had been a senior officer of Imperial Intelligence – honourable but ruthless, the archetypal Klingon warrior. Not that she'd known that at the time. She remembered with a slight smile, how he had posed, not altogether successfully, as a mid-ranking Defence Force officer of no particular importance. As if anyone would ever fall for that ruse when everything about him had screamed high rank and authority! She'd been terrified of him when they'd first met and yet, less than a week later, she'd known he was the man she would love for the rest of her life.
He had changed over the years of their marriage, tempered by the Federation, and constrained by their ideals and their ways of doing things. He had adapted and learned to fit in, becoming the ideal Starfleet officer and it was only after his return to Qo'noS as captain of the Hegh'Ta, that she began to realise just what it had cost him. And now, wearing that intimidating black uniform again, he was reverting to his true self, becoming once again, the Klingon warrior she had met. It was as though… and she knew he would not appreciate the comparison… she had met a tiger that had turned out to be a pussy cat posing as a tiger, only for her to discover that the cat really was a caged tiger – and the bars of the cage were bending and breaking. What that would mean for their marriage remained to be discovered.
Chrissie shook herself mentally, bringing her attention back to the discussion. "They have legitimate reason to consider him a flight risk," she said quietly.
That had been the last thing her friends had expected her to say. Seeing their confusion, she gave a wry smile and continued. "You're forgetting, this is a retrial. The first one was held in absentia because he'd defected to the Federation. In other words, albeit for very good reasons, he ran!"
Slowly Kehlan nodded as understanding dawned. "And once again the Federation are involved and making waves because Krang is one of their officers now and they don't agree with the death penalty."
Mackenzie frowned. "But Krang agreed to do this. He gave his word."
"Yes, he did," Chrissie said. "But he and his House were discommended. He is considered dishonoured and that means his word is not to be trusted. So, he will be kept in custody until the end of the trial." She shivered before continuing, "And if he is convicted… I think they will carry out the sentence very quickly, maybe even right there and then in the courtroom."
The Court of Justice, Qo'noS, 2375
Day Two of the Trial.
Tired, irritable and feeling very much in need of a shower and a clean uniform after spending an uncomfortable and mostly sleepless night in the cells, Krang was once again in the dock, waiting for the judge to declare the proceedings open.
He must have dozed at some point, he knew, because he had been eventually woken by the sound of the guards bringing what passed for breakfast. The food had been barely edible but he had been hungry and so he had forced himself to eat it.
The thought of a shower (and he didn't much care if it was sonic or water; either would do) almost made him laugh; it was such a Federation thing to miss, but the intense summer heat had left him feeling dirty, sweaty and with itchy skin that made him wonder if the cells were infested with fleas. Any thoughts of getting clean had been interrupted by the guards arriving to escort him to the courtroom. As before, he was cuffed, but unlike the court guards the evening before, they were almost apologetic in their handling of him, treating him with the respect due his rank.
As he waited, his eyes wandered the courtroom, taking in the various spectators - the chancellor, a few councillors and high-ranking Defence Force officers - before settling on his wife. She looked well, he was pleased to see; obviously Mackenzie had taken good care of her. Not that he would expect any less of his tera'ngan brother. Chrissie was watching him, apparently calm, but her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Krang offered her a slight smile and a nod of his head, wordlessly answering her unspoken question. Yes, he was all right. The worry in her eyes turning to relief, she offered him a smile in return.
As before, two Imperial Intelligence officers were also in attendance. Only one of them had been present yesterday, and Krang recognised that one as Moragh sutai Khamran, the officer he had spoken with occasionally via subspace. The shorter man, the one who from his demeanour and lack of obvious rank markings, Krang had correctly assumed to be the operations master, was conspicuous by his absence and Krang could not help wondering as to the significance of that. The officer replacing him was unfamiliar to Krang, but his rank insignia indicated that like Moragh, he was a security captain.
Finally, just as Krang was beginning to lose patience, the great doors swung open and the judge made his entrance. Exactly as he had the previous day, he crossed the court and took his place on the great, throne-like seat. Lifting the clawed globe in his hand, the judge brought it crashing down and Krang could have sworn he saw splinters fly from the antique wood of the table. Day two of the trial was in progress.
First City, Qo'noS, 2266
Countdown to invasion: Three months
The Klingon captain of security stood by the heater under the great hexagonal window in his office, staring out at the view across the city. He had just returned after a visit to Rura Penthe that had combined a routine inspection with the interrogation of a political prisoner who it was believed had held important classified information. Krang hated Rura Penthe with a passion. The Klingon Empire's most notorious prison planet was a frozen, barren wasteland. All the facilities were deep underground, since nothing could survive for long on the surface. Just thinking about that horrific place made him shiver. Feeling as though he would never be warm again, he moved across to the replicator and ordered a raktajino. That should drive some of the cold out of his bones, he reflected. He wouldn't mind so much if the trip had proved to be worthwhile, but it had been a complete waste of time. The inspection had gone according to plan, but the interrogation had been a different matter. The prisoner had broken quickly but they had learned little that was not already known from other, more reliable sources.
As the beverage materialised, Krang picked it up and went back to his desk. There was a lot of work for him to catch up with. It didn't look as though his subordinates had done much work while he was away, everything seemed to have been left to just pile up on his desk. He growled, wordlessly expressing his displeasure, if only to himself. It was about time his assistants took a bit more responsibility and used their initiative to get things done. If things did not change, and quickly, they would regret it. Taking a mouthful of the scalding hot raktajino, he picked up a padd and settled down to do some work.
One of the most important pieces of outstanding work on his desk was a report from a deep cover agent who had successfully infiltrated Starfleet and was now serving on one of the Federation's starbases. He read the report carefully and began to formulate a response to be sent to the agent at the next scheduled communication.
His comm. unit buzzed, indicating an incoming transmission. It was marked as personal and activating the unit, he was unsurprised to find that it was his brother. Older than Krang by ten years, Meren was the head of the House of Inigan. "I heard your ship had docked this morning," Meren said, in typical Klingon fashion not bothering with any greeting. "How did the trip go?
"I shouldn't have bothered going," Krang grumbled. "I'll send a deputy next time. So, what can I do for you? I assume this isn't just a social call?"
"Can't I call my little brother to say hello?" Meren asked, laughing.
Krang shook his head, he knew his brother better than that. "No," he said with certainty, "You want something. So, what is it?"
Actually, I called to tell you they've finished installing the prototype," Meren said. "We're ready to take the ship out and test it. How soon can you be ready?"
"Give me a couple of hours," Krang answered. "I've got a lot of work to get through before I can leave again."
Meren acknowledged and signed off.
Staring at the blank screen, Krang frowned. He would enjoy a trip out on Night Dagger, but quite apart from the fact that he had huge amounts of work to get through, he felt conflicted. The new mission to which he'd been assigned worried him for many reasons. Somehow the whole idea of using time travel to go back and defeat an enemy when they were technologically disadvantaged did not seem honourable to him. He sighed. He had his orders and he would obey them.