Klingon Headquarters, London

Wednesday 26th January 1994

"Please… tell Krang!"

Grenn shifted restlessly, his hand straying to the knife in his belt as he started to move forward. He'd been down here less than half an hour and he'd already had enough. He did not like this at all. A hard hand grabbed his upper arm, pulling him back.

"Don't be a complete idiot," Kroll hissed, carefully keeping his voice low. The last thing he wanted was for the two guards who had accompanied Karg, and who were now standing by the entrance to the cells, to hear their conversation. Those two would obey any orders that Karg had given them regardless of its legality. To be fair, so would most soldiers. It would be a very brave or very stupid bekk - and momentarily, Kroll wondered which category he and Grenn fell into - to disobey an officer.

The two guards had tried to send Kroll and Grenn away when they'd arrived for their duty shift, but Kroll had refused to budge. When they'd insisted, going so far as to draw their knives, Kroll had simply told them that he had his orders from the Qas DevwI and to go ahead and try it. Older and more experienced than them, he had a reputation for dirty fighting, and in the end, they'd backed down.

"We're enlisted soldiers," he reminded Grenn. "You can't attack a colonel under any circumstances… that's an automatic death penalty.

"I can't just stand here and do nothing," Grenn protested, shaking his arm free of the other man's grip."

"Then use your brain," Kroll snapped. "Go and find an officer who can help!"

Grenn nodded, accepting the wisdom of this. "There's got to be someone out there who isn't loyal to Karg!"

"I'll cover for you," Kroll said. He raised his voice as he continued, "Grenn, you're a g'dayt idiot! I said you'd regret that extra mug of coffee!

Grenn blinked at the sudden change of subject. "What? Oh…" He raised his own voice, adding in an element of whining. "I was cold. And I can't…"

Kroll brutally cut him off. "Well, if you can't hold it, go… and be quick about it… and you can add the time on the end of your shift." He gave his colleague a shove towards the door.

Materialising in the courtyard outside headquarters, Marla was instantly drenched by the pouring rain. She cursed, hurrying towards the door that would lead her through to the offices. She was finally off duty – actually, she should have been off duty at this time yesterday, but she had been shipside, working through the night to help the fire crews in Australia. Her plan now was to get indoors quickly, pick up a few bits from her desk, then head back to her quarters, have a hot shower and get some sleep… and at some point, when she wasn't too tired to care, find out what a 'sheila' was.

"Lieutenant… Lieutenant Marla…!"

Hurrying across the courtyard, she stopped as a voice called her name. Turning, she saw one of the bekks, Grenn she thought he was called. He was waving, desperate to get her attention. Cursing again, she stopped to find out what he wanted. Why was he off his station and why was he addressing her and not his squad leader?

"NuqneH, bekk?" He looked worried, she realised, almost scared. "What is wrong?"

Grenn hesitated for a moment, and afterwards she realised that he had been wondering if he could trust her. But it was well known that she and Kay'vin were a couple, and that Kay'vin was fiercely loyal to the boss. He had no choice but to assume that Marla was equally loyal. Taking a deep breath, he rapidly told her what was happening down in the holding cells.

"Yintagh!" Marla was horrified. Thinking for a moment, she said, "You did right to tell me, bekk. Go take that toilet break and then return to your post." Forestalling his protests that he didn't actually need to go, she added, "Yes, I know, but that's what you said you were doing, so do it. Everything needs to look normal. Trust me, Grenn, and do as I say. I swear to you that whatever it takes, I will bring help."

Only slightly reassured but knowing there was nothing more than he could do, Grenn went on his way, and her mind racing as she watched him go, Marla tried to decide what to do. She only had her personal communicator on her. To call the boss, she'd need to go inside, back into the office and use the main system. The thought briefly crossed her mind that at least she'd be out of the driving rain, but she dismissed it immediately. There was no privacy in the office, and she could not be sure of the loyalties of her colleagues. Best to call Kay'vin; he was Krang's aide and would know what to do.

Pulling out her communicator, she keyed it to her lover's frequency. "Marla to Kay'vin. Priority One Emergency."

Central Madrid, Spain

Carrying several brightly coloured shopping bags, Kay'vin slowly made his way back to the carpark where he'd left his shuttle.

His visit to the travel agency had proved successful. They did not deal with what he needed – a villa in Mauritius that could be rented for the weekend, but they had been extremely helpful, probably, he admitted wryly, because they didn't want to upset or antagonise a Klingon soldier. The proprietor had made a couple of phone calls and a few minutes later, a fax had come through with the necessary information. Perusing the choices, Kay'vin had picked the one that looked most suitable for Krang and his family and the travel agent had made the arrangements.

With all the tasks he had been assigned accomplished, he'd made use of the map that the estate agent girl, Carmen, had given him and headed into the tourist areas, starting with the nearby Plaza Mayor.

As Carmen had told him, there were plenty of gift shops in the area and he'd had a surprising amount of fun exploring them and making purchases. Just off the Puerta del Sol, he'd found a quirky and very expensive little shop called La Violeta, which specialised in traditional Spanish sweets and he'd come out with a large box of their signature violet candies as well as boxes of turrón, polvorones and various other sweets that the store owner assured him were typical of the region.

A little further down, he'd found a liquor store which yielded a bottle of a strong spirit, at least, strong by Terran standards, called Aguardiente, which he'd tasted and thought Marla might like.

From there, he turned a corner and a shop window with a colourful display of traditional Spanish dresses caught his attention. Suppressing a snicker at the thought of Marla wearing all those ruffles, he went inside and purchased an ornately decorated fan, covered in hand-painted flowers, admittedly a completely ridiculous gift for a Klingon woman. It would (hopefully) make her laugh. His final port of call was more to Klingon tastes - a little place selling swords and knives made in the nearby town of Toledo, which he learned was world famous for its steel. He spent a lot of money in there, coming out with a jewelled dagger that would make an ideal boot knife for Marla and a heavier weapon that he thought his father might like as well as something for himself. The elderly man who owned the shop was extremely knowledgeable and after persuading Kay'vin to show off his d'k' tahg, had exclaimed over it and asked about the possibility of buying one.

He rounded off his trip by having something to eat in a little bar. It had gone silent when he entered but once people had realised that he was not intending to cause trouble and just wanted some food, they'd slowly relaxed. Served in tiny portions called 'raciones', the food had been surprisingly good, and some of it was almost Klingon in style – jamon serrano, a very tasty, smoked bacon-like meat; morcilla, a traditional blood pudding, and even calamares fritos, small bites of fried and battered squid. And the chorizo! His first bite of that had been enough to make him wonder if he'd died and gone to Sto-vo-kor!

Maybe, he thought hopefully, while Krang was in Mauritius, he could take some time off himself and bring Marla here.

Inmobilaria Plaza Mayor, Madrid

Sighing tiredly, Carmen decided to stop for lunch. Her afternoon break should have started an hour ago but the work the Klingon had given her to do was urgent and needed to be dealt with quickly. With the auction of the property organised for the day after tomorrow, there was nothing more she could do and if she didn't go now, she'd never get her break before the shop reopened.

Exiting the shop, she locked the door and headed for the carpark, where she was relieved to see that the alien shuttle was not blocking in her car. Approaching her vehicle, she saw the Klingon soldier coming towards her. Half-nervous, half-amused by the sight of the soldier laden down with his shopping bags, she offered him a hesitant smile. "Did you find what you needed, Señor?"

He glanced down at the bags. "I did. Your city is…"

Whatever he thought her city was, Carmen never found out. A loud, insistent bleeping sounded, and he pulled out a device and spoke into it. She heard a woman's voice, speaking in a harsh language that she assumed was Klingon. The soldier's attitude changed immediately. No longer relaxed and affable, his demeanour was suddenly tense and threatening.

Replying to the woman he disengaged, turning back to Carmen. "I have an emergency. I will return later for the shuttle." Shoving his bags into her arms, he added, "Look after these until my return."

Not waiting for an answer, he was already placing another call, to a male this time, and if the woman had sounded agitated, that was nothing compared to the explosion of fury from the unknown man. Making a third call, he barked what sounded like orders and then disappeared in a column of sparkling lights.

A little bewildered, she watched as the soldier faded into nothingness. At least she'd get to see him one more time, since he'd need to come back for both his shopping and the shuttle. He was scary but also interesting and she'd never thought she'd get that close to one of the aliens and emerge from the encounter unscathed. Smiling wryly at the thought of her boyfriend's reaction if he found out she was mooning over a Klingon soldier, she got into her car and headed home to get something to eat.

Sydney, Australia

With the fire extinguished, the Klingons had remained through the rest of the day to help with the clear up. After interrogating the prisoners, Krang had decided to do as Koreth suggested and hand them over to the local authorities. His own preference would have been to execute them, but he acknowledged that it did seem to have built bridges with the Australian authorities. Even so, he'd heard more than one of the local police officers muttering that it was a shame the Klingons hadn't just killed them.

Surprisingly, the firefighters and law enforcement officers had invited the Klingons to join them for a barbecue… or a barbie as they called it. The two Tera'ngan police officers, Jack and Miro, were plying their guests with various Australian beers – or were they lagers? Krang was not sure of the difference - including international favourites like Castlemaine Four-Ex and the locally brewed Hahn Superdry. To the Klingons, the alcohol level was so low as to be almost non-existent, but they were refreshing and had interesting flavours.

Talking with Miro, who was telling him stories of the Dreamtime, Krang was standing with a steak sandwich, meat barely cooked, in one hand and a pint of lager in the other. Koreth stood close by, munching on a skewer of prawns that he'd rescued from the grill before it got too burned.

"… The black bird flew out of the smoke and Eaglehawk said, 'That's him. That's Crow. He's been punished now, his spirit turned into a black bird.' And so, the Eaglehawk and the Crow still fight." The story complete, Miro stopped and took a long swig of his beer.

The other police officer, Jack, approached, carrying a plate piled high with food – burgers, sausages, and various salad items, none of which looked particularly edible to the Klingons. "So," he asked with a cheeky grin, "do we get to hear one of your stories?"

"Krang is a better storyteller than I am," Koreth said, offering his superior a wicked glance and casually moving so that he was out of weapons range. "I am sure he will be glad to oblige."

Krang thought for a moment, wondering which story would best represent his people. Across the yard, he could hear voices raised in a very familiar tune. He shook his head in amused disbelief as he realised that his soldiers were teaching a group of firefighters a popular Klingon drinking song. 'And the River Skraal ran crimson red, on the day above all days…' He almost cringed at the way the humans were butchering the lyrics, but they were obviously enjoying themselves and the song gave Krang an idea.

"I will tell you the story of how Kahless fought a great battle against the tyrant, Molor." Thinking that he would kill Koreth for this, Krang began the tale. "Realising that he had no weapon with which to fight the tyrant, Kahless climbed to the top of the Kri'stak Volcano, and cutting off a lock of his hair, he held it into the river of molten rock pouring from the summit. The hair began to burn but he plunged it deep into the waters of Lake Lursor and twisted it into the form of a sword, the first bat'leth. Going back down the mountain, he…"

A loud chime from Krang's communicator interrupted his story, its tone indicating Priority One emergency. Sighing, Krang put down the beer glass on a nearby table and retrieving the device from his belt, barked an irritated query. "NuqneH?"

"My lord…" The voice was Kay'vin's and he sounded frantic. "Colonel Karg has arrested Chrissie. He…"

"WHAT!?" Krang exploded. "I left her guarded! How is that…"

"I don't know," Kay'vin interrupted. "Marla just told me that Karg has her in the holding cells. Sir, he's torturing her, I suggest you hurry. Questions can wait 'til later."

"Meet me there," Krang snapped, ending the call and immediately placing another one, this time to the transporter operator onboard ship. "Emergency beam-out. Destination: London headquarters!"

"Make it two to beam up," Koreth growled. At Krang's surprised look, he added by way of explanation, "I will act as your Cha'DIch. If you fail to kill that honourless petaQ, you may be sure that I am not willing to return to working under him. I will kill him and avenge you."

Krang nodded. Understood. Very well. Two to beam… now!"

Notes:

La Violeta is a real shop, located as the story says, just off the Puerta Del Sol, and is famous for its candied violets. Turron and Polvorones are traditional Spanish sweets. The Puerta Del Sol is considered to be the absolute centre of Spain, all distances in Spain are measured from this point.

Raciones are similar to the more commonly known Tapas, but are slightly larger portions. They are common in Madrid.

The story told by Miro is "Eaglehawk and Crow". It is a genuine Aboriginal story of the Dreamtime and I do not own it. I have tried to reproduce it as faithfully as I can.

The story Krang tells is taken from Canon (various episodes) and I don't own that either, nor do I own the Klingon drinking song.