The rain had not eased up in the slightest and if anything, seemed to have intensified, the odd rumble of thunder indicating a developing storm. The weather was no worse than back home at this time of year, but Krang was dressed for the intense heat of the Australian summer, having left his armoured leather jacket and winter cloak at home in France. His light undershirt provided no protection at all and he was drenched to the skin almost before he had even materialised.

Muttering imprecations under his breath, Krang glanced around him to get his bearings. Visibility was poor but he could just make out the door to the holding cells a few paces to his right. Vaguely he heard Koreth cursing the weather but focussed on his goal of getting to Chrissie, he took little notice of his fellow officer's discomfort. Moments later he heard a second voice cursing, Kay'vin this time. That was good, at least…not that his aide was getting wet, but that he had got here so quickly.

Not bothering to wait for them, he was already striding across the courtyard, hand reaching out to grasp the door handle and shoving the door open with such force that it almost came off its hinges as it slammed against the wall.

Seeing Krang approaching, Grenn started to step forward, intending to speak to him, but Kroll had the sense to grab his arm and pull him back out of the way, muttering to his companion that there was no point in getting themselves killed and explanations could wait until later. The other two soldiers, the ones who had accompanied Karg, and who had remained on guard duty at the entrance to the cells, started to challenge the newcomer but recognising the two very senior officers bearing down on them and seeing the fury on their faces, changed their minds and quickly stepped back.

One of them started to follow Krang, whether intending to attack him or simply warn Karg was hard to say, but Grenn moved to prevent them, knife drawn and a snarl on his face, silently warning them not to even try it.

Karg's instincts had been right - the Tera'ngan woman's testimony had confirmed that she was a resistance spy, although, he thought with some contempt, not a very good one. Was this the best the resistance had to offer? Just as he'd accused, she was weak and useless. It had taken very little effort on his part to learn everything she knew and finally, he'd been able to join the dots and work out what was going on.

That the Federation were involved was no great surprise to him. That much had been evident since the fiasco of the prison raid. That it was Kirk's ship hiding behind the moon left him with mixed feelings.

Of all the ships in Starfleet, why was it always Enterprise? Its captain had been a thorn in the side of the Klingon Empire for years. What Karg did not understand was why the Enterprise remained hidden. Waiting maybe? But for what? Whatever Kirk's faults, the man was no coward and nor was he stupid. He must know by now that there were no hidden battlecruisers in orbit, that the Klingons here on Earth were effectively stranded with no backup or support other than the monthly visit from the courier ship. Nor were their numbers particularly high and the Terrans would have been shocked to realised just how few Klingon troops it took to control a population of just over five billion. Kirk had the power of a starship at his command and one troop transport ship could not compete with that. Why didn't Kirk just use his phasers and open fire on them from orbit.

Alongside his annoyance at Kirk's presence, Karg also felt anticipation. Battle was coming. All he had to do was deal with Krang according to his orders and then it would be Kirk's turn. Defeating Kirk, arguably one of the Empire's greatest enemies, would guarantee him a promotion to general and maybe even a seat on the High Council.

First things first. Before he could think of that, he needed to deal with this prisoner. Unlike Krang, he was not gullible enough to believe in her innocence. Her mate had killed his brother. Anger flared. Karaq had been a good man and he had not deserved to be cut down in such a dishonourable way.

Contemptuously, he ran his eyes down her exposed body, snarling at the sight. She was pale, soft and flabby and he still could not understand why Krang was so besotted with her. He was not done with her yet, there was still more he wanted to know. Keeping a tight grip on her throat, he shoved a knee between her thighs, forcing her legs apart as he pressed himself closer against her. As his other hand played with the fastenings to his belt, he took pleasure in her terror and her frantic, futile struggles. Not that he would soil himself by actually taking her - even the thought of it was disgusting. Even if she were not a resistance whore, she was still Terran and not worthy of the attention of a Klingon warrior. When he was done questioning her, he thought, he would order her execution – and he rather thought that he would enjoy carrying out the sentence personally. Karaq would be avenged and his place in Sto-vo-kor, jeopardised by the manner of his death, would be finally assured.

Teeth bared, he lowered his head until it was almost touching hers. "Tell me…" he growled, "What do…"

Out of nowhere, hard hands grabbed hold of him, pulling him off the frightened, cringing Tera'ngan female and throwing him halfway across the room. He landed hard on the floor, rolled and lay still for a moment, half stunned as he gasped for breath and tried to figure out what had just happened. Krang! It could only be Krang, but how in Gre'thor had that taHqeq Ha'DIbaH got here so quickly? He had expected… hoped… to have a little longer to finish his interrogation.

His vision swam and he blinked furiously in an attempt to clear his sight. Slowly the room began to come back into focus and he saw Krang… two of them… standing there… He blinked again and this time when he opened his eyes, the two Krangs had resolved themselves into one and the second figure was now identifiable as Koreth. The two were standing between him and the prisoner and they appeared to be arguing.

Behind them, at the entrance to the holding cell, a pair of guards were preventing his own soldiers from coming to his aid. So that was it, he realised, remembering the loud conversation between the two. The treacherous guard had used his fake toilet break to call for help. When this was over, he would ensure the two were suitably punished. If he survived. He was realistic enough to accept that this might be his last fight. Well, as long as he obeyed his orders and killed Krang, his own death would be honourable and he would join his brother in Sto-vo-kor. Growling, he got to his feet and prepared to fight.

Krang had thought he'd reached the limits of his anger the day that Karg had made the illegal broadcast and tried to attack him from behind. Finding Karg pressed against his mate in a very obviously sexual pose, he quickly discovered otherwise; he was, in fact, capable of much more anger than that. He wanted Karg dead. Specifically, he wanted to tear him into tiny, quivering pieces with his bare hands and hear him screaming as he begged for a mercy that would not be forthcoming.

His d'k'tahg somehow finding its way into his hand, he touched the tiny switch that opened up the triple blades and started to move towards his enemy.

To his surprise and displeasure, Koreth stepped in front of him. "See to your mate. I will deal with Karg."

A low, warning growl erupted from Krang's throat. "Get out of my way, Koreth."

Unlike the security captain, Koreth was not emotionally compromised and while he understood Krang's fury, he was thinking more clearly and was able to keep his own anger at Karg's behaviour under careful restraint. Nor was he intimidated by his superior's display of anger, knowing that it was not truly aimed at him. Holding his ground, he gestured urgently towards Chrissie. "Look at her, Krang, and then tell me… where are your priorities? Will you indulge your own needs or will you see to hers?"

"Krang?"

Chrissie's voice sounded small and frightened but it was just enough to cut through Krang's fury. He glanced from Chrissie to Koreth and across to Karg, who was now lifting himself onto his knees, one hand seeking the knife in his belt. He would be on his feet in a moment and ready to fight.

Unwilling to listen to reason, Krang snarled. "I want him dead!"

"I promised to stand as your Cha'DIch," Koreth reminded him, "and you accepted. That makes it my job to fight in your place. So, let me do that job." Seeing that his superior was wavering, he continued, "Besides… as the Defence Force officer who will replace him, this fight is as much my right as it is yours."

Waiting for Krang to come to the inevitable conclusion, Koreth surveyed his surroundings, preparing himself for the fight to come. This had been a communal cell, designed to hold several prisoners at once until they could be processed and either released or transferred across to the appropriate prison facilities. There was a time, he knew, that it would have been filled to overflowing with the drunk-and-disorderlies coming out of the pubs on a Saturday night, something that had ended with the strictly enforced curfew. The space was not huge but it was just big enough to fight in.

In the absence of any desk, Karg had made use of the bench along the back wall. As well as the agoniser, Koreth could see an audio recorder sitting there, a blinking red light indicating that it was doing its job. He had a strong suspicion that whatever confession it contained should not be made public and he growled, making a mental note to confiscate the device when he was done here.

Krang felt torn, powerful instincts pulling him in two different directions as his need to help his mate warred with the desperate desire for vengeance… and with that realisation, there was no longer any conflict and he knew what he must do. Chrissie came first. She would always come first.

Decision made, he stepped back, offered a nod of gratitude to Koreth and turned towards his mate. Karg's hand on her throat and his body pressing her against the wall had been the only things keeping Chrissie upright. With her hands secured behind her back, she had no way of supporting herself and as her strength gave out, she'd slid into a little heap in the floor.

Dropping to his knees, he reached for her, his hand cupping her face and tilting her chin upwards slightly so he could examine her better. Livid bruises covered her face and a set of parallel gashes, caused by the studs on Karg's glove, had left trails of blood trickling down her cheek. She had a broken nose and her lip was split and bleeding. It was very obvious that she had been punched several times and a mark on her throat, half hidden by the fingerprints, indicated that an agoniser had been used on a fairly high level.

"Krang!" His presence felt like a miracle and she couldn't quite believe that he was really there. "You came." It hurt to talk and her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. "I knew you would!"

The hard, angry expression on Krang's face softened as he saw the fear and pain in her eyes fading, to be replaced with relief. "Of course, I came." For different reasons, his voice was equally hoarse. "You are my mate, my par'Mach'kai. I will always come for you."

Trusting his second in command to deal with Karg, Krang ignored the sounds of fighting, Pulling Chrissie close against him, he savoured the feel of her body pressed against his as he reached round her to unfasten the heavy cuffs that were restraining her. Checking her wrists for injuries, he found that they were bruised and bleeding from her struggles against the heavy metal of the cuffs. Her clothes had been torn - cut open rather, the clean edges of the fabric and the shallow cut snaking its way down her chest and across her belly making it clear that a knife had been used - exposing her skin to the elements and she was freezing cold and shivering. Wet and cold himself, his natural body temperature was nevertheless high enough to warm her a little but not enough. He cursed, bitterly regretting that he had left his heavy winter cloak at home and had nothing to cover her with.

"My lord…"

Looking up, he saw Kay'vin approaching him, holding out a thermal blanket that he'd managed to find from Kahless only knew where. "It's not much," the younger officer said, "but it'll do for now. Marla's gone to get the first aid kit and your spare cloak from your office."

Once again, his aide had anticipated his needs. Nodding his gratitude, Krang accepted the foil blanket. He shook it open and wrapped it around Chrissie, holding it closed as he started to help her to her feet. "You need a doctor, Chrissie-oy." He looked back at his aide. "Kay'vin, call the medic."

"No! No… Please don't!" Chrissie protested weakly, "I'm all right." That was blatantly untrue but the last thing she wanted now was any Klingon but Krang touching her.

In the background, Krang was aware of footsteps and the clash of blades… muttered curses and heavy breathing… Karg's voice taunting his opponent… He heard Koreth curse and then laughter from Karg accompanied by the faint sound of a blade sinking into flesh… a sharply indrawn breath... Heavy footsteps and then a desperate cry from Koreth… a warning that came too late. Pain bloomed and Kang's eyes widened in shock as Karg's knife embedded itself in his unprotected back.

Thank you for your reviews and support and sorry for the delay. These chapters are proving difficult to write and I don't have as much free time as I did. I'd rather take my time and get it right. I promise that whatever happens, I will not abandon this story. I confess I was also delayed by the imagery in the first paragraph... Krang standing in the rain, wearing tight leather trousers and a thin, soaking wet shirt which showed off his muscles beautifully. I'm afraid that image rather fried my brain...