Monday 17th January 1994
With the release authorisation signed, Krang had entered the cell where he'd found the little boy sitting cross-legged on the bench, his sister curled up asleep beside him with her head on his lap. His arm protectively across her shoulders, the child looked up warily as the Klingon had entered the cell. "Has my mama come for us?"
Kneeling to put himself on eye level with the boy, Krang shook his head. "Not yet. I promise you, we will reunite you with your mother as soon as we can. In the meantime, you are to come with me."
"Where are you taking us?" the boy asked suspiciously.
"To my house," Krang responded. "You will be safe there."
The boy considered that. "Mama says we aren't supposed to go anywhere with strangers."
"That's good advice," Krang acknowledged. "Your mother is a wise woman. But unless you want to stay here tonight, I think it's worth the risk, don't you?"
Slowly the child nodded. "Okay." Carefully he shook his little sister awake. "Despiertate, Fina. Nos vamos de aqui."
'Wake up, we are leaving here.' As the universal translator did its job, Krang remembered belatedly that the children were bilingual. Earth had hundreds of different languages. A pity they did not speak French, he thought. That language would be useful to them while in his home. But no doubt he would be able to find a woman in the nearby village who spoke at least some English or Spanish. Not that they were going to be there long enough for it to be a problem. He was confident that they would be back with their mother in the morning.
The little girl sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I'm awake." She saw Krang and offered him a tremulous smile. "You came back. Are you going to ask us more questions?"
"Not right now," Krang told her, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to her. Slowly she approached and with the innocent trust of a very young child, she put her hand in his. The Klingon gave a satisfied smile. With the little girl won over, the boy would have no choice but to follow.
Seeing the sleek, black shuttle, the children paused, their nervousness returning as they realised that they were being taken even further away from their mother. But more frightened of being left in the prison, they obediently boarded the shuttle and as it took off, their fear receded to be replaced by excitement at actually flying.
The flight was a very short one, although with two children bouncing up and down in an effort to see out of the windows and asking innumerable questions, it seemed to take a long time. At the speeds a shuttle could travel at, the four hundred mile trip from London to the Loire Valley took approximately ten minutes, much to the disappointment of the excited children.
Krang's home – or what passed for home on this planet – was located in the centre of the Loire Valley, one of France's premier wine regions, an old farmhouse set in a large, walled garden and beyond the walls, rows and rows of grape vines that reminded him very much of the Inigan bloodwine vineyards back home on Qo'noS.
The children were tired, but a bit too hyped up to even think about sleep and all they wanted to do was explore and look round. It was dark however and Krang refused to allow it. "You can explore a little in the morning," Krang promised the children, seeing their disappointment. "For tonight I want you cleaned up and in bed."
"Can we have something to eat first?" Toni asked. "I'm hungry."
"Me too," his sister agreed.
The Klingon frowned, racking his brains as he considered the food supplies in his kitchen. What in the name of Kahless was he supposed to feed two small children at this time of night? This whole thing was turning into one complication after another.
"Very well," Krang said, "Antonio, I need to know what you normally eat?"
"It's Toni," the boy informed him belligerently. "Mama only calls me Antonio when I am in trouble."
"I am sure that isn't very often," the Klingon conceded. "All right, I will call you Toni as you request. And you, young lady? I think I heard your brother call you Fina?"
The little girl nodded solemnly. "I don't get into trouble as often as Toni does."
The Klingon bit back a grin. Somehow, he doubted that. "I will expect your cooperation and good behaviour then if you do not wish me to use your full names. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes, sir." Both children gave their solemn promises.
With their promises of good behaviour secured, the Klingon managed to get them into the kitchen and fed. He did not often eat at home, but the housekeeper he had employed kept the fridge stocked with staples such as ham and cheese and he also found plenty of fresh baked bread. For dessert, he also allowed them to have a little candied racht, something that was considered a special treat back on his homeworld. They'd looked askance at it, obviously wondering what it was, but its sweet smell had quickly persuaded them to try it and not completely to his surprise, they had liked it.
With the meal over, the Klingon found himself having to deal with the delicate subject of getting them into bed. He was a lone male who was unrelated to them and there was no woman in the house. For several reasons that was a problem. Quite apart from the fact that childcare was a woman's job and one he had absolutely no experience with, in his time on Earth he had dealt with enough criminals to be aware of the seamier side of Terran society. Allegations of improper behaviour to a Terran child would anger both his own people and the Terrans and put him in serious jeopardy.
It would be best, Krang decided, if they shared a room. Luckily, he found that they did not want to be separated. From that point, the whole thing just got more complicated. Neither child was keen on the idea of sleeping in their dirty clothes, but he had nothing suitable for them to change into and eventually, they both agreed that it would be okay for one night.
Just as he thought the mission was accomplished, the little girl had turned to him and asked for a bedtime story. Oh Kahless, the beleaguered Klingon thought, how had he got himself into this mess? Kahless… Actually, that gave him an idea. It was never too early for a child to learn about honour. Sitting on the edge of their bed, Krang thought for a few moments before deciding to tell them one of the traditional stories of his people. The tale was completely new to them and both children listened with rapt attention as he described how Kahless and his brother had fought for twelve days and nights after Morath had broken his promise. No sooner did he finish the story, than the children, worn out by the events of the day, were asleep. Satisfied, the security captain turned out the light and left them in peace.
Tuesday 18th January 1994
The following morning, Chrissie returned to the Klingon security station and asked for the security captain. It was twenty-four hours now that her children had been missing and she was terrified for their safety. Why had the Klingon officer not contacted her? After she'd left the station yesterday, she'd gone back to the church, spending the rest of the day searching the surrounding area, knocking on doors and showing everyone the photos of her children. A few people admitted to having heard the Klingons when they had raided the church, but none of them had seen anything. Or if they had, she thought hopelessly, they were too scared to speak. When she'd finally gone home, she had checked the answer phone for messages but there was nothing. No calls had been recorded. She had no way of knowing that her young son, tearing down the stairs as he chased his sister, had kicked the socket as he passed, loosening the connection and causing an intermittent fault.
The Klingon officer had promised her they would be found safe, but she was struggling not to lose hope. The resistance had found no sign of the children, nobody in the area had seen them and if the Klingons did not have them, then where were they? Were they safe? Were they even alive? She forced back a sob; she could not afford to break down now.
The duty guard at Klingon headquarters, the same one as the day before, remembered her and still smarting from his reprimand, was not inclined to be helpful. Brusquely, he informed her that the chief was not available.
Here we go again, Chrissie thought in some annoyance, although she was careful not to show it. "Then I will speak to whoever is in command today."
Realising that the annoying Terragnan was not going to go away, the bekk growled and went through an open doorway. Chrissie could see several other Klingons in the room and she watched as the guard spoke with one of them. Although she could not hear their words, she noted that he was being very respectful in his attitude to this one.
The officer, whoever he was, approached Chrissie. "I am aware of your situation," he growled, not waiting for her to explain her presence. "The security captain is dealing with your case personally. You will need to wait for his return."
Show no weakness, Chrissie reminded herself. Even so, looking at this Klingon, she found it hard to hide her fear. She could not say why but this one scared her. "When will that be?"
"Not today. He is busy with other, more important duties. He may return tomorrow or the day after."
Something about his attitude made Chrissie think that he had no liking for the security captain, that there was some conflict between them and that he would be content if his superior didn't come back at all. He wore a grey uniform, Chrissie noticed. The officer she had spoken with yesterday had been dressed in black. Come to think of it, the soldier she had initially spoken to was also wearing grey… as had the Klingons who had come to her home that awful day in Madrid. What did that mean? Was that significant, somehow?
"I will return tomorrow then," she told him. "But please… if you hear anything in the meantime…"
He gave a curt nod and started to turn away.
"Wait!" she called. "What's your name?"
He turned back with a snarl. "Why do you want to know?"
Accountability, she thought. It was always a good idea to know who you were dealing with. She suspected though, that a more tactful answer was required. "I would like to know," she said carefully, "with whom I have the honour of speaking?"
He considered that for a moment, obviously looking for insult in her words, but finding none, he had no reason to withhold an answer. "I am Colonel Karg of the Imperial Klingon Defence Force."
Colonel? The other one was clearly his superior, but surely a colonel outranked a captain? Maybe that was the source of the conflict? It made no apparent sense, but combined with the different uniforms… Maybe Kirk would know something? Where-ever he was from… when rather than where, she corrected herself; the man was as human as she was… he obviously had knowledge of the Klingons. Who knew what details might be useful in this fight?
"I am honoured by your assistance," Chrissie told him, offering him a very slight bow. It seemed to please him and he gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement before turning his back on her and going back into his office.