Loire Valley, France

Wednesday 26th January 1994

As Chrissie was talking, she hurried around the bedroom, finding herself something clean to wear. Her clothes were torn and bloodstained, fit only for the bin. A little of the blood was hers, bright scarlet in direct contrast to the odd lilac colour of Krang's. He'd lost far too much blood, she thought worriedly. Not all of it was his, though; some of it, and she shuddered at the thought, was Karg's.

At that moment, Kirk's voice, calm, professional and reassuring, was all that was keeping her from falling apart. Finally, accepting that the captain knew what must be done, that he was putting things into motion and that help was on the way, she allowed him to end the call. Tossing the communicator onto the bed, Chrissie hurried into the en-suite bathroom. She needed to shower but the conversation with Kirk and Uhura had taken longer than she'd allowed for. Time was passing and she would have to be quick. Turning on the water and giving it a moment to settle to the required temperature, she shrugged off the dirty clothes and let them fall to the ground, before stepping into the shower. The agoniser had left her skin feeling over-sensitised and she gasped at the painful sensation as the water hit her like thousands of tiny, sharp needles.

Hands secured behind her back, she could not defend herself, could only cringe away as Karg grabbed hold of her chin, forcing her head up as he placed something on her throat. "It's called an agoniser," he told her, "and believe me, it is well named. Let me demonstrate…"

He had not exaggerated. Within seconds of the device being activated, she was lying on the cold, stone floor, every muscle, tendon and nerve in her body convulsing in absolute agony. She was vaguely aware of him laughing as she screamed… and screamed… until her voice was hoarse and she no longer had any strength to scream.

"It's set to the lowest level," he taunted her, switching the device off again and watching with grim satisfaction as her convulsions faded away. "This is nothing, merely a tickle compared to what is to come if you do not cooperate."

He switched the device on again, this time, increasing its intensity by several levels. "Scream for me, little Terran," he ordered her… and she did.

Trembling with a mixture of pain, fear and shock, Chrissie reached up and turned off the water, backing out of the shower. She desperately wanted to get clean, to scrub herself until every last trace of Karg was gone, but it hurt too much and she did not have the strength to do it. Reluctantly deciding that a quick wash would have to do, she moved to the sink and splashed some cold water on her face and hands, careful to avoid looking in the mirror. If she knew what she looked like, she would have to deal with it and she was not ready for that. Aware she was running out of time, she pulled on something soft and comfortable and hurried downstairs.

The courtroom, Qo'noS, 2375

Trial Day 4

"At the time," Marla told the courtroom, "I had absolutely no idea that Chrissie had contacted the Enterprise. As far as I knew, she was cleaning herself up and getting into some fresh clothes… which she did, of course. While I was waiting, I kept an eye on Krang's wound. He was unconscious and I didn't like the way the blood was still coming through the dressings. Kay'vin…" she paused for a moment, and when she continued, there was a note of fond exasperation in her voice… "Kay'vin paced up and down and generally got in the way."

Had there been room for her to do so, she too would have been pacing as she spoke and standing not too far away, Chrissie gave her a look of concern. It was not that long ago that Marla had learned of her mate's death and it had to be hurting her to speak of him like this. The Terran woman suspected that had Marla been human, she would have been crying – but Klingons had no tear ducts and could not cry. Did it make grief easier to deal with, she wondered irrelevantly, or was it more difficult?

Marla was older than Chrissie but at that moment, Chrissie's motherly instincts kicked in and she stepped forward, taking up the narrative and allowing the other woman a moment of peace to compose herself. "Krang had told me that Marla was an engineer," she said. "I asked her if she was able to tie her communicator in to the human phone system the way Krang did with his comm and she told me that was very easy to do if I had the communications code… the phone number…"

For someone with Marla's abilities it had indeed been very easy and it took only a moment for her to connect to the Terran phone system and enter the required number. It was on speakers so all three of them could hear the ringing and as Chrissie listened, she silently willed her brother to pick up the call, at the same time mentally rehearsing what she needed to say and praying that neither of them would screw this up. The sound went on and on and eventually Chrissie looked up worriedly. "He isn't answering."

"Maybe he is not there," Marla suggested. "You said he was staying with a friend for a while. Do you know where?"

"I…" Chrissie was almost panicking. If he wasn't there, what had gone wrong? And what was she supposed to say? "I…"

"The phone was faulty," Kay'vin remembered suddenly. "It possible that it has not yet been repaired."

Chrissie swore, using an expression that she'd inadvertently picked up from Krang and was a lot ruder than she realised. The two Klingons exchanged a glance and Marla was unable to hold back a chuckle. Chrissie glared at her. "What?"

"Do you know what that means?" the other woman demanded. "Oh, never mind, I'll tell you later. I take it Kay'vin is right and your phone is still broken?"

Chrissie nodded. "I have my neighbour's number," she said after a moment. "He can go and get David."

"No. That will take too long," Kay'vin refuted. "It would be easier and quicker if I just go and get him. We are wasting too much time."

Chrissie could only agree with that. "Will you take the shuttle?" she asked, "or do that 'magic beaming' thing?"

Kayvin thought for a moment, looking at the unconscious Klingon on the couch before deciding that beaming is the better option. At maximum speed he could do the flight in just under seven minutes each way. Taking into account parking the shuttle, making his way to the property, going up all those stairs, and explaining the situation to the doctor, it could easily be twenty minutes or more before he returned and it was evident that time was of the essence. Having made up his mind, he took a moment to explain his plans to Marla and Chrissie, before activating his communicator and barking orders to the duty transporter technician.

Loire Valley, France

Wednesday 26th January 1994

Materialising in the centre of the courtyard of the old French farmhouse, David shook himself and looked around him with interest. It was an odd thing, this beaming, the way the fog seemed to surround him, take him into nothingness and then deposit him elsewhere. He'd done it twice in the last five minutes… firstly from Enterprise to his home – and that trip was one he knew he must not speak of – and then again from his home to wherever here was. There had been one previous time, or so they told him, but he'd been unconscious then so it didn't count. Acting as though it was new to him would not be difficult, it was new. He was not sure if he liked it, but it was certainly convenient and for all Len's dire predictions, he seemed to have all his body parts intact and in the right places.

The frantic message from his sister had come as a surprise and David could not help wondering what she'd done to get into trouble this time. If that Klingon had harmed her in any way, then Hippocratic oath or not, he'd kill him. All he knew so far was what Kirk had told him – that she was hurt but okay and that her Klingon lover was in urgent need of medical attention.

It was not that getting an emergency phone call was anything new, but it usually entailed having to go to the hospital. David was a trauma surgeon rather than a GP and, generally speaking, he did not make house calls. Even so, he chose to carry an emergency medical bag with him and it had proved its worth many times over. Len McCoy was carrying a similar bag, although David knew that its contents were very different to his own. For all McCoy called himself an old-fashioned country doctor, it was David's opinion that he – and the rest of Enterprise's medical team – relied too heavily on technology. He remembered how horrified they had been when they learned that he would close a wound with stitches, rather than an auto-suture. He shook his head. Certainly, the tricorders and all the other devices they took for granted had their uses, but they should supplement to, rather than a replacement for, medical knowledge.

McCoy had started to teach him and while on one hand, he was eager to learn, he could not help thinking that the lessons boded ill for his chances of being allowed to remain in his own time. The tricorder in particular was interesting, and not as simple to use as he'd first thought. They'd been in the middle of an explanation on how to interpret the results of a tricorder scan when they had been paged by the bridge.

From there, it had all happened so fast and before he knew it, he was in the living room of his flat, pacing up and down as he waited for the promised phone call from Chrissie. Completely unaware of the problem with the wiring, he finished checking over the contents of his medical bag, making sure that the 23rd century equipment he'd 'borrowed' was well hidden and then wandered into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Busy making hot drinks - coffee for McCoy and tea for himself, he'd just taken the milk out of the fridge and noted with disgust that it was well out of date and had something growing in it, when he heard McCoy's voice calling him.

"Hey, David… come and look at this."

"What?" He stuck his head around the door, to see his colleague kneeling on the floor, fiddling with something.

"I think this is your phone socket," McCoy said, "I think it's broken."

David did not often swear but he did now. Tossing the milk carton into the rubbish bin, he went to join McCoy, looking over his shoulder at the very obviously damaged wiring. "Chrissie said she'd call. Now what are we supposed to do?"

"We wait," McCoy said calmly. "That sister of yours is resourceful. She'll think of something. She'll call your neighbour or…"

The sudden, loud banging on the door and the harsh voice shouting "open up!" caught both doctors by surprise.

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "… Or I guess she'll send a Klingon to get us," he quipped. Sensing David's sudden nervousness and accepting that after being tortured to within an inch of his life, there was good reason for it, McCoy got up. "I'll answer it." Moving to the door, he opened it a few inches, careful to keep it on the chain. Not that he thought the flimsy bit of chain link would be much protection, but it made him feel better. Outside in the corridor, he could see a single, youngish looking Klingon soldier wearing the standard Defence Force battle armour. "What do you want?"

"You are Doctor Kendal?"

McCoy shook his head. "Nope. I…"

David approached warily. "I am Doctor Kendal." Actually, he thought in a brief moment of annoyance, he was a surgeon and was correctly addressed as Mister. But since for the moment at least, the Klingon was being polite, there was no point in antagonising him by pointing that out. "What do you want with me?"

"I am Lieutenant Kay'vin," the Klingon introduced himself before continuing with the brusqueness that was typical of his species – and something in his tone told David that he was deeply worried. "You are required for a medical emergency. You will come with me at once."

A little of the tension went out of David as he realised that he was not about to be arrested again, although if whatever his sister was planning went wrong, that was still very much a possibility. McCoy was right; this was the call they had been waiting for. "Let him in, Len," he instructed, stepping back to give him room to open the door. "Lieutenant… Kevin, was it? You'd better come in while I get my kit. What type of injury am I treating?"

"It is Kay'vin," the young Klingon corrected, stepping into the room. "My superior has suffered a stab wound in the back."

"Is the spine damaged?" David queried, making one last check of his medical bag. Yes, he had everything he needed. Stab wounds were something he could handle without too much difficulty. The Klingon soldiers were always getting into fights and he'd treated rather a lot of them over the almost two years that they had been on Earth.

"I do not believe so," Kay'vin said. "Your sister is caring for him now. I should have told you, actually, it was she who sent me here to find you.

David frowned. "Is she all right?"

"She is…" Kay'vin hesitated, wondering how best to explain without causing a delay. "She is what you would call 'walking wounded', however she will also require some treatment."

McCoy had remained quiet until now, letting David handle this, but willing to back him up and offer him support if needed. He stirred now. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's get going?"

Reminded of the other human's existence, Kay'vin let out a warning growl. "I do not know you. Who are you?"

"The name's Len," the Starfleet doctor said. "Doctor Leonard McCoy."

"He's a friend and colleague," David explained, "I'd like him to come with us if that's all right. I could use his assistance."

"Damn right, I'm coming with you," McCoy snapped. "If you think I'm letting you…"

"Very well," Kay'vin conceded, wisely deciding to cut the other doctor off before his belligerence caused unnecessary trouble that he really didn't have the time to deal with. "I will allow it. If you are ready?" Not waiting for their response, or bothering to explain what was about to happen, he opened his communicator and called for transport.

Note: In the UK, for some odd reason, when a doctor specialises in surgery, they stop calling him doctor and address him as Mister. I don't know why but I do know they tend to be very proud of it and its considered rude to address a surgeon as doctor.

Again, a big thank you to three special people who continue to offer their support to this story and whose input I value very much. JDC0, Solasnagreine and RobertBruceScott. If you haven't read their stories, go take a look, you'll find them in the Star Trek: Others section of this site.