Aware that it was customary in this part of the world to leave a tip, Krang removed a handful of notes from his wallet, probably more than enough to cover the cost of the meal. Making sure they were English pounds and not the French francs he usually used, he placed the money on the table. He did not carry a lot of cash, but it was always a good idea to have a little of the local currency just in case it was needed. The restaurant staff deserved a generous tip; they had worked hard and provided good service.
Throwing his cloak across his shoulders, the security captain moved to assist Chrissie with her coat – not that she needed the help, and with little knowledge of how the fastenings worked, he was getting in the way more than helping, but it gave him an excuse to touch her and neither of them objected to that. Laughing, Chrissie pushed his fingers away. She was enjoying the contact but at this rate she was never going to get her coat properly done up. Undoing the wrongly fastened buttons for the second time and redoing them correctly, she reached for her scarf and gloves.
As she wrapped the scarf around her neck, Krang's hands came up to her throat, not so much trying to help as simply needing to touch her. Allowing her fingertips to curl around his, Chrissie raised her head to meet his gaze. No longer laughing, her lips were slightly parted and seeing something in her eyes, Krang realised that she wanted him to kiss her. He hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself; Klingons did not kiss in quite the same way that Terrans did. but he had seen a young couple kissing on the dance floor and it hadn't looked too difficult. Satisfied that it was socially acceptable to do so in public, and not much caring if it was not, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers.
Sensing his inexperience, she took the lead, showing him what to do. There was no aggression, no biting… instead she moved her lips against his and slipped her tongue into his mouth. Startled, he almost pulled back, but the sensation was not unpleasant; it was in fact far more erotic than he could ever have imagined. He liked the Terran way of kissing, he decided hazily and he'd been right - it wasn't difficult. It was with regret that he lifted his head, breaking the kiss. "If we don't stop now, I'm going to create a scandal that's going to get us banned permanently from this place."
Chrissie's eyes widened and a blush stained her cheeks. Her heart racing and her breathing more erratic than it should be after just one kiss, she smiled up at him. "If you don't stop now, I might just let you."
With a muffled curse, he stepped back in a futile attempt to dismiss the highly indecent image in his mind and get himself under control. "You are not helping," he complained. "Do you have any idea what you are doing to me? How much I want you?"
Satisfied with her effect on him, Chrissie's smile widened. "Then maybe we should go somewhere a little more private."
Busy cashing up the till and sorting out the day's takings, Grapok's eyes were troubled as he watched the boss with the Terragnan woman. Even before they had kissed, it had been very obvious that these two were romantically involved. They were taking a huge risk and Grapok hoped they both knew what they were doing. The woman looked young. Did she understand that she was marking herself as a collaborator? Did the boss understand the danger he was putting her in? Or, for that matter, the danger he was putting himself in?
Grapok sighed, glancing across to where the waitress was wiping down tables on the Terran side of the dance floor. He was, unfortunately, in a position to sympathise. Working with Maggie on a daily basis over the last year, he'd long since developed feelings for her. She was smart and sassy and it was her business acumen and knowledge of the restaurant trade that had made 'The Neutral Zone' the success that it was, allowing him and Tom to concentrate on the cooking. How could he not be attracted to her? Luckily, she did not seem to have noticed; there was no future for them and besides, however well he and Tom got on, he did not think the human would approve of him dating his sister.
Seeing that Krang was about to open the door and step outside, the chef called him back. "My lord, it's a cold night. I would suggest calling a shuttle. We will be cleaning up for a while yet; you can wait in here until it arrives." He was not about to insult the security captain by suggesting it might not be safe to walk, but despite the warning he had given his fellow chef, Grapok could not be sure that someone else had not informed the resistance of the security captain's presence. It did not even have to be the resistance; any passing Terran with an illegal gun might consider a lone Klingon to be an easy target.
Quite apart from the fact that he liked the boss, if anything happened to him, that would put Karg in charge. The reprisals for Krang's death would be savage – and even worse in Grapok's eyes, the colonel had made it very clear he did not approve of 'The Neutral Zone'. Karg would shut the place down and force him to return to duty.
Opening the door of the restaurant, the security captain stepped into the street, instinctively looking around him to assess his surroundings. He was willing to concede that Grapok had been right when he'd suggested calling a shuttle – he was not, whatever the chef thought, oblivious to the hazards. Emotions were running high at the moment and while he had no concerns about his ability to handle any trouble, he had Chrissie to protect. Besides, it was khest'n cold out there.
The snow was still falling although not as heavily and underfoot it was already turning to slush. Earth had no weather control and outside the city and over the English Channel, La Manche as he'd heard Marie-Claire call the narrow band of sea that divided England from the European continent, Krang knew the conditions would be blizzard-like. It was nothing that would be a problem for a Klingon shuttle, however.
Leaving the warmth of the restaurant, Chrissie followed Krang out onto the street and as the restaurant door closed behind them, she slipped her gloved hand into his. Initially surprised – hand holding was considered something for very small children – he did not object.
The shuttle had touched down in the middle of the road, right outside the restaurant. Had it been earlier in the day it would have caused an obstruction, but at this time of night the road was quiet, the only traffic being a black cab that had just picked up a couple from the nearby French restaurant. Any Klingon vehicle automatically had priority; the taxi driver would have to wait.
The pilot, a middle-aged Klingon wearing the inevitable Defence Force uniform, saluted the approaching officer and his companion, opening the door for them to enter. Their destination was the security captain's house, the pilot knew, over in the Loire Valley. He was careful not to stare at the Terragnan woman with the boss, but even so he was curious. He'd heard about the two human kids – that story had gone round the barracks at a speed approaching warp nine – and he could only assume the woman was connected in some way. It was all very odd, he thought. No wonder Colonel Karg thought the boss was going soft.
Chrissie hesitated, suddenly, inexplicably nervous. She had seen the Klingon shuttlecrafts before, but they were not available for Terran use and she had never ridden in one. Krang gave her a gentle push towards the shuttlecraft door and she stepped inside. The security captain followed her and taking her arm, he guided her to a seat. She sat down and he seated himself beside her, reaching across her to fasten her seatbelt before securing his own. He was very close to her and she was conscious of his leather clad thigh pressing against hers. His arm resting across her shoulders, he shifted even closer, his head bending towards hers in readiness to steal another kiss. There was a clatter as the pilot boarded and frustrated, Krang pulled back a little, cursing under his breath. All he wanted now was to be alone with Chrissie and he was thankful that despite the distance, it was only a short journey by shuttlecraft. They would reach the place that passed for home on this world, in less than ten minutes. He suspected that it would be the longest ten minutes of his life.
The pilot shut the door behind him before moving towards the front of the craft and beginning to manipulate the controls. The shuttle took to the air smoothly and began its journey.
Interested, Chrissie looked around her. She was aware that she might never get another chance to see inside a Klingon shuttlecraft and her nervousness quickly gave way to curiosity. She wondered how it worked. The engines gave off only the faintest hum and she had the sensation of incredible speed, yet the ride was smooth. The craft was short and squat, conforming to none of the rules of aerodynamics, so what made it fly? She voiced the question and Krang tried his best to explain, but after a minute she stopped him. The science involved was so far beyond her current level of knowledge that it might as well be magic.
Eight minutes into the flight, Chrissie realised that the craft was descending and beginning to reduce its speed. The pilot spoke to someone over the radio before turning the shuttle and bringing it in to land. Cutting the engines, the pilot got up and opened the door for his passengers. Krang spoke briefly with him in Tlhingan Hol before taking Chrissie's hand, ostensibly to help her down the ramp but in reality, just wanting to be in contact with her. Entwining her fingers with his she looked questioningly at him and he obligingly translated the conversation for her. "I have just asked him to wait for Lieutenant Marla and take her back to the London barracks."
A pair of heavily armed Klingon males were at the door of the shuttlecraft and Chrissie could see two more soldiers by the entrance to the house. The Klingon captain's home was well guarded, she thought, not knowing the true importance of the man she was with but beginning to suspect. She knew of course that Krang ran the security department in London but despite Spock's explanation, she had no real idea what the title 'Captain of Security' actually meant, or that the man at her side was the ultimate head of Earth security, the planetary governor with the final responsibility for everything that happened on the planet.
Krang frowned at the sight of the guards. He valued his privacy and did not want them here. "Why are you here?" he growled at the nearest soldier. "Who gave you your orders?"
"We are acting under the instructions of the senior Qas DevwI, my lord," the bekk replied stolidly. Used to the attitude of high-ranking officers, he was not at all fazed by the security captain's bad temper. "Due to the current unrest, all senior officers living outside barracks are to be guarded."
The Qas DevwI was right, Krang reluctantly realised, and it would not be a good idea to countermand him. Annoyed but accepting the necessity, he gave the soldier a curt nod. "Understood. Continue as ordered."
Looking around her curiously, Chrissie had been taking little notice of Krang's conversation with the soldiers. Illuminated by subtle security lighting, the house was big, but not oversized, built in a style that she did not recognise. It was a charming building, obviously old, with painted, wooden shutters covering the windows and a well-established wisteria, currently leafless and dead looking, climbing up the stone walls. The surrounding gardens were spacious and obviously well looked after, with a high wall around them. There were no near neighbours that she could see; instead the house was surrounded by vineyards. She was, she realised, no longer in England. It would look lovely in the summer, she thought, the gardener in her itching to explore. Even now, covered in a layer of snow, it was beautiful.
"If you wish, you may explore in the morning," Krang told her, her obvious joy in the beauty of the night garden soothing away his irritation. "It is cold and dark, will you not come inside with me?" Releasing her hand, he moved closer to her, placing his arm across her shoulders and with some satisfaction, he felt her arm slide around his waist. She looked up at him with a smile that could only be described as flirtatious and allowed him to draw her towards the entrance to the house.
The second pair of guards saluted as Krang passed them, in the traditional Klingon salute, right fist thumping against left breast. He acknowledged with a nod, but otherwise ignored them. Opening the door and ushering Chrissie into the house and out of the cold, Krang found Lieutenant Marla waiting for them in the hallway, having heard their arrival. "Have there been any problems?"
"None, sir," the Klingon woman answered, "They have behaved well and are both sleeping."
"That is good," Krang acknowledged. "The shuttle is waiting for you. Qapla'!"
Marla saluted. Facing Chrissie, she gave her a long speculative look before saying, "Your children are a credit to you. Qapla'!" With that she turned and left, shutting the door behind her.
Once again, thank you to RBS for his kind review, the support, insights and occasional corrections are much appreciated.
Please bear with me over the next few chapters. Up til now, this story has been a rewrite of a much older one so although its been expanded and (hopefully improved, Ive known where I was going with it. but having read over the next few chapters to come, 63 will stay more or less as is, but 64 onwards are going in the bin and I am taking a completely different route to get to the conclusion of the trial. So I can't say how much time it will take to work out the new direction, especially as we come out of lockdown and real life begins to assert itself again.
Meanwhile, enjoy the story (and if you're reading, please leave a review to say hello) and stay safe.