The restaurant Krang had in mind was maybe ten minutes' walk from headquarters. He had never eaten there but he'd ordered takeaway from them and he knew the food was good. Not that they actually offered a takeaway service but when a high-ranking Klingon walked in their door and asked for food to go, nobody was going to argue. Likewise, the lack of a reservation was unlikely to be a problem even if they were busy, which on a night like this was unlikely.

The streets were quiet and they passed no-one as they walked. In this weather nobody wanted to be outside if they could help it. Nor had the Klingon patrols or the very real threat of reprisals made the streets a safe place to be, for Terrans at least. Even so, Krang was careful, keeping his awareness on his surroundings. He had kept a very low profile and remained anonymous as far as the Terrans were concerned, but his capture or death would be a major coup for the resistance. It was risky for him to have chosen to walk instead of taking a shuttle, but he was in a reckless mood. Besides, he was well-armed, with both disruptor and d'k tahg and more than capable of defending himself.

Krang was also aware that he had not picked a good time to take a night off. He should be returning home and getting some work done – and there was much to do. Briefly he remembered his earlier idea of relaxing over a couple of episodes of 'Battlecruiser Vengeance' but even that would have been time wasted. Karg had done so much damage and he and his deputies were going to have their work cut out in undoing it… and quite how they were to achieve that, Krang was still unsure. The broadcast could not simply be ignored. But likewise, an apology was impossible; it would make the Klingons appear weak and incompetent, which in turn would lead to further uprisings. He had some difficult decisions to make if he were to put things right and make a success of the orders he had been given.

Orders… Krang was thoroughly disillusioned with his own people. There was no honour in anything they were doing here on Earth and right now, the very thought of those orders was offensive to him. Anger flared at the High Council, whose short-sighted greed and lust for glory had led to this ill-conceived war across time… at Chancellor Sturka for not having the strength to control his councillors… at Operations Master Meth for taking him away from the work he loved and putting him in command here… and at idiots like Karg whose blind ambition and brutality had just undone two years of work in as many minutes.

Work could wait until tomorrow. It had been months since he had taken any time off and he could not remember the last time he had done something purely for fun.

Admittedly, going on a 'date' with a Terragnan woman went well beyond the bounds of doing something for fun and was in fact, ridiculously inappropriate for someone of his rank and position. He didn't much care; the rebellious streak that had got him into so much trouble in his youth, was raising its head once again.

The coming night would be an adventure, a chance to experience something completely new and challenging. Krang knew nothing of Terran dating protocols, or the rules of eating in a Terran restaurant, or even if it was possible to have a mutually satisfying sexual encounter with a female of a such a fragile species. He'd more than once heard the soldiers talking when they had thought he was out of earshot and he knew he was not the first Klingon to have tried it. The general consensus, though, was that Terragnan women were weak and not worth the effort. He glanced speculatively at his companion. She did not seem weak or fragile, although he knew he would have to be careful and keep himself under strict control if he were to avoid injuring her.

Snow was starting to fall, large, fat flakes drifting lazily to the ground; just the occasional snowflake here and there, but glancing upwards and seeing heavy cloud cover, Krang suspected it was going to get heavier. He noticed that despite her heavy winter coat, his companion was shivering slightly in the cold. Maybe eating at a restaurant tonight was not such a good idea. It might be better, he decided, if they got takeaway instead. They could take it back to his place and eat in the kitchen with the children. She'd like that, he thought, and maybe once the children were asleep, they could share a bottle of wine and get to know each other. He would like it very much if the evening ended as he hoped, with her in his bed… and quite predictably, his body reacted to that thought… but if not, then she could spend the night in one of the spare rooms and he'd take the little family home in the morning.

"You are cold," he observed, drawing closer to her as she shivered again. "It's not much further to walk. We are almost there."

"I'm fine," she said, somewhat unconvincingly. "It's your guards I feel sorry for. They've been standing outside all day; they must be absolutely frozen."

A big, white snowflake landed in Chrissie's hair, nestling there like some exotic jewel. Impulsively, he reached out to touch it, to brush it away, but as his hand made contact, he could not help but be aware of her tension. "We don't have to do this," Krang said, about to suggest the takeaway idea. "We…"

"Do as you are told…"

"But…" She seemed almost frightened now. "You said I had to."

Not quite understanding, Krang cast his mind back but could remember nothing wrong with what he had said. It was admittedly, not strictly honourable to proposition a woman in such a way, but he had in no way forced or coerced her to accept his invitation. "I asked you to have dinner with me."

"And more," she accused recklessly.

"And more," he agreed. "But only if you are willing."

"But only if I want my children back!"

"WHAT?" The Klingon was genuinely shocked.

"Do as you are told…"

Chrissie took a deep breath. She could see the anger in his eyes and yet he had not raised his fist to her. He was not Diego. Not all men were violent, she reminded herself. She could not imagine her brother ever hitting Sarah – if those two ever got their act together and admitted their feelings for each other. Nor did she think this man would hit her.

"You said…" She stopped momentarily before just blurting it out. "You said that I would have to sleep with you if I wanted my children back." Now that she said the words out loud, she realised that he hadn't put it quite like that, but it had been very strongly implied.

"English is not my first language," Krang said carefully as he fought to control his emotions. Horrified and deeply offended by her accusation, he could not quite comprehend how he had managed to miscommunicate his intentions so badly. "Nor do I completely understand your culture and the way you do things. My people are very direct in matters of mating. I want to have dinner with you. I want more than that – I want you! But it was an invitation, not an order or an ultimatum. I am not so desperate that I would force myself on an unwilling woman. If you think I would sink so low as to coerce you…" He turned away in an effort to hide his anger and disappointment as he reached for the communicator tucked into his belt. "This was a bad idea. I will call a shuttle and take you to your children."

"Krang?" Chrissie felt as though a great weight had dropped away from her. Diego was dead and she would not let a ghost dictate her future. She was free to choose for herself. He was Klingon… her enemy… She should take her children and run. Except… she didn't want to. Moving forward she placed a hand on his arm.

He stilled, his posture stiff and unyielding, then slowly, he turned back to face her. She'd used his given name, he noted irrelevantly. It was the first time she'd addressed him by anything but his rank and he liked the sound of it on her lips. He looked down at the hand on his arm. Even covered in a colourful woollen glove that matched the scarf wrapped round her neck, her fingers seemed slender and delicate. "What do you want, Qis'ta?"

"It's Chrissie," she corrected him and then regretted it. Spoken with a Klingon accent, her name had an exotic sound that she liked very much. She smiled up at him. "And I think I would like to have dinner with you."

"Chrissie, then," he conceded. The tension began to fade and he allowed himself to relax, an answering smile turning up the corners of his lips.

What would it be like to kiss him, she wondered? Did Klingons even kiss? She hoped so. His lips were…

The heavy thud of armoured boots on the ground alerted the couple to the approach of a Klingon patrol. Immediately, Krang released his grip on Chrissie, stepping back and turning to face the heavily armed soldiers who were approaching them, disruptor raised and ready for trouble. They were only a few minutes' walk from headquarters and as far as the soldiers were concerned, there was no legitimate reason for anyone to be standing around in such poor weather.

The snow was coming down faster now and visibility was deteriorating. The squad leader saw what appeared to be two Terrans loitering suspiciously. The footsteps halted and a harsh voice rang out. "You there! HALT! Identification!"

Had she not been standing so close to him, Chrissie might have missed the look in Krang's eyes. It was one she saw far too often on her son's face… pure mischief. She stifled a giggle. This Klingon was, she suspected, about to get a shock.

"NuqneH?" Krang's features took on their customary grim expression, all traces of mischief or amusement disappearing as he responded to the challenge in his native Tlhingan Hol before changing back to English in deference to his companion and issuing a challenge of his own. "Squad Leader, REPORT!"

As Krang spoke, his obviously Klingon features and the black uniform, half hidden under his heavy cloak, became visible to the soldiers. The squad leader issued a sharp command and immediately the soldiers lowered their weapons. Leaving his men waiting in the middle of the road, he approached the security captain. "My lord, I didn't recognise you."

"Not surprising in this weather," Krang admitted, enjoying the look of shock on the squad leader's face. The Qas DevwI had not been expecting to encounter his boss out here. "Has there been any trouble?"

"None at all, sir. The streets are quiet." His eyes flickered curiously to the Terragnan woman standing with the chief. Whatever they had been discussing, they had appeared very intimate. Wisely, he made no comment; what the security captain did was none of his business.

Aware of the squad leader's interest, but having no intention of indulging it, Krang inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You are doing a good job. Dismissed."

The Qas DevwI saluted, right first coming to rest with a thump against his chest. About to return to his squad, he stopped. "My lord," he said impulsively, "you should not be walking alone. Do you require an escort?"

Krang shook his head. "No. I am almost at my destination. You may continue with your patrol."

"Yes, sir." Taking that as dismissal, the Qas DevwI was about to return to his squad when Krang's voice called him back.

"One last thing," the security captain said. "It's a cold night. Take a short break when you get back to headquarters and get yourselves something hot to drink – and get something for the duty guards as well; they've been outside all day. If the officers give you any trouble, tell them it's on my orders."

The squad leader's eyes widened. That was unexpected generosity on the part of the boss. A chance to get warm for a few minutes would be much appreciated. He saluted again. "Yes, sir. Qapla'." Quickly he returned to his squad, getting them underway before the security captain could change his mind.

Just a note that Chancellor Sturka comes from various star trek novels. There is currently no canon information as to who was chancellor in 2268 and it is too early in the timeline to be Gorkon.