Loire Valley, France

Wednesday 26th January 1994

"Enemy?" Chrissie flared. She was getting annoyed now. She'd given him everything he wanted, told him the full story – and really, since she'd kept her original story as close to the truth as possible, there wasn't that much to tell – and just as she'd thought he understood, he'd come out with this ridiculous accusation about bringing his enemies into his private home. "Don't be so melodramatic! That so-called enemy of yours just risked everything to save your life! In case you've forgotten, it was one of your people who stabbed you in the back. Not exactly honourable, was it!"

"That's not…" he began and then stopped, uncomfortably aware that she was right and that he was being unreasonable, on this issue at least. As for the story, he still did not know what to make of it. The whole thing was just preposterous. Did she really expect him to believe that her involvement with the Enterprise was entirely accidental? And yet… there was still no sense of guile about her, no sense whatsoever that she was lying to him.

Krang sighed. He was exhausted and it was getting hard to think. "You don't understand…" He tried again to explain his concern but failed as she interrupted him.

"No, you don't understand. If the Federation wanted you dead, then you'd be dead. They have all those weapons on their ship; they could have just blasted you from orbit. Instead, they sent a doctor to treat your injuries. Likewise, if I were the spy you accused me of being… well, I've shared your bed for the last week. I could have killed you if I'd wanted to, except I don't want to. I've never wanted to, and if we are to go forward from this, it's time you started to trust me."

The Klingon shook himself mentally. How had she managed to turn the tables and make it his fault? He had every reason to be angry and distrustful of her so why was he feeling like he owed her an apology? Trying to make sense of everything, his tired mind seized on one small detail she had missed. "The communicator," he said suddenly. "How did you manage to keep it hidden? And you said something about a phaser as well. What happened to it?"

"Um…" A slightly embarrassed look crossed her face. "It's um…"

He was interested now. Was she blushing? "Where did you hide it?"

She looked up at him anxiously. "It's… in the toilet."

"In the toilet?" he repeated incredulously. "Are you telling me that there's a phaser in my toilet?"

"In the cistern actually," she said defensively.

Somehow, that struck him as the funniest thing he'd heard in a long time. Unable to help himself, he burst into laughter and just like that, the awkwardness between them was gone.

Councillor Gorkon's office, 2268

When Meth made his appearance in Gorkon's office – and how he'd gained entrance without the guards notifying him of his presence, Gorkon was not quite sure - he found the councillor sitting at his desk, engrossed in a game of Klin zha with his daughter. Hand hovering over the board, the girl was concentrating fiercely as she decided on her next move.

Becoming aware of the approach of an intruder, Gorkon looked up, hand instinctively going to his knife then relaxing slightly as he identified the newcomer. "NuqneH, Meth? What do you want?"

Meth's cold gaze went to the girl, noting with mild surprise the sparkling, obviously new jinaq hanging around the girl's neck. He'd forgotten that children tended to grow up, picturing Azetbur as the precocious ten-year-old she'd been the last time he'd met her. She was legally no longer a child now but a young woman. Even so, he had no intention of discussing classified business in front of her, no matter how much she was indulged by her doting father.

Seeing the glance and interpreting it correctly, Gorkon nodded to his daughter. "Azetbur, you will leave us now. Wait for me in the council ante-chamber."

The girl did not argue. "Yes, father." Eyeing Meth with curiosity, she nevertheless bowed her head respectfully and departed.

The operations master watched her go before turning his attention back to the matter he had come to attend to. "You are playing a dangerous game, Gorkon."

The councillor shrugged. If he was bothered by the veiled threat, he did not show it. "There is danger in any game worth the playing."

That was true enough, Meth conceded, studying the unfinished game on the Klin zha board, noting the precarious position of the gold lancer. It was a trap, he suspected and if the green player chose to ignore it and instead attacked the fencer, they stood a good chance of winning the game. If the girl had been playing green, she had a good eye for strategy for one so young and would be worth watching in future years.

Watching the operations master's eyes sweeping across the board, Gorkon waited to find out why he was here. There was only one reason that he could think of: Meth had spies everywhere, which was of course his job – and somehow, he had found out about the illicit communication he'd sent to Karg, ordering him to assassinate Krang.

Gorkon had considered Krang to be a good friend for many years, ever since they were children. The House of Inigan was a small House but one with an ancient and honourable lineage that could be traced all the way back to the time of Kahless. And yet, having no interest in politics it had been many years since they had claimed the seat on the High Council to which they were entitled. Their lack of political ambition was something Gorkon would never understand, even if it currently worked in his favour. Had Krang chosen a career in politics, then he would have been a formidable rival.

The two boys had gone to the same school, although Gorkon was a couple of years older and had shared no classes with Krang. Out of school however, they'd hung around in the same group of boys and Gorkon had been one of those who had broken into the home of the Romulan ambassador. Unlike Krang though, he'd been lucky enough to avoid getting caught, escaping by the skin of his teeth. That incident had changed Krang, Gorkon remembered. It had changed him as well, although for slightly different reasons. He'd seen the marks on Krang's back and all too aware of the beating he would have received from his own father if he'd ever found out his son and heir was not only hanging round with a bunch of ruffians, but had almost caused an interstellar war, he'd knuckled down and got on with his studies. Running with a street gang had been fun but Rura Penthe would have put an end to his political ambitions and even at the age of thirteen, Gorkon had known he wanted to be chancellor one day.

He would join the Defence Force, distinguish himself in battle and rise through the ranks before taking his place on the High Council. Krang, he'd thought, would do something very similar. Both his father and brother were military men after all and he'd decided that the younger boy would become one of his top generals. In the end, Krang had joined Imperial Intelligence. That had been a surprise at first, but thinking about it, the young Gorkon had realised it made sense. Besides, it changed little – instead of being his general, Krang would become operations master and together they would rule the Empire.

Looking back, Gorkon almost laughed at his youthful naivete. It had not been quite that simple but still… his own career was on track. As for Krang, he'd proved to have a real aptitude for intelligence work and his progress through the ranks had been nothing short of meteoric. He'd specialised in the Federation and that suited Gorkon just fine. At some point, he was convinced, the Empire was going to have to come to terms with the Federation. How much stronger would they be as allies instead of enemies? That was years away though and if the High Council had its way, and this ridiculous invasion of theirs actually worked, it would never happen.

Did Krang share his vision of the future? From the talks they'd had over the years, mostly over a barrel or two of the Inigan estate's best bloodwine, Gorkon rather thought he did.

For the moment though, Meth ruled Imperial Intelligence, not Krang. If there was anything left of the security captain who had cared enough to take the troubled boy that Krang had once been and set him back on the path of honour, it was well hidden. Meth might have survived that terrible accident – if accident it had been – but it had left him with more than just physical scars. Klingons were a passionate race; they lived, loved, fought, and died with fire in their hearts. There was no sign of that fire in Meth's eyes, rather, they were cold and calculating, giving nothing away. He could not read the operations master and in his eyes, that made the man dangerous. Gorkon fought to repress a shiver, knowing that he would need to be very careful. I do not think this is a social call," he said. "I ask you again, what do you want?"

"You have convinced Sturka of your support and he trusts in your honour." Pulling no punches, Meth went straight on the attack. "Yet you consort with his enemies and plot against him. That is treason. So, tell me, Gorkon… why should I not take action against you?"

"I do what I must to protect the Empire," Gorkon defended. "Sturka is weak and in the matter of Earth, he cannot control the council. You know that as well as I do."

"And so, you play both sides. Are you in such a hurry to replace him?"

"No!" Gorkon was genuinely horrified at the accusation. "I am not. They are determined that the Federation must fall – and I am determined that it will not. If I show support for Sturka in this, I will lose their ear and that would be disastrous. I must know what they plan."

Meth nodded, acknowledging the sense of that but remained silent, waiting for Gorkon to continue. He'd discovered a long time ago, that it was often unnecessary to ask questions, that remaining quiet and allowing the silence to become uncomfortable would encourage the other person to fill that silence. As it almost always was, the tactic was successful.

"It's been almost two years," Gorkon said, "and so far, to the best of my knowledge, history has not changed. Or if it has, it has not done so in the way that they hoped. Starfleet still exists. The Federation still exists. More, it goes from strength to strength. Not that I am an expert in temporal physics, but to me, that means that whatever the catalyst for change is, it just hasn't happened yet. We need to make sure that it doesn't happen."

"And you do that by instigating a dishonourable attack on one of my most senior officers?" Meth asked with biting sarcasm. "It was not your place to interfere in my operation."

"Oh, don't be so khest'n ridiculous!" Gorkon snapped irritably, "You're supposed to be the best of the best. If I can see it then why can't you? Sturka told me the plan… that Krang would eventually rebel against his orders. Except… somehow, he's settled into the role of governor and made a success of it. That was never supposed to happen." He glared at Meth. "You have only yourself to blame for that, by the way. You trained him too well."

That accusation, true as it was, came very close to making Meth laugh and it was only his training - and the plasticised skin on his face - that prevented him from showing any signs of amusement. Slowly, his anger at Gorkon's temerity began to fade, to be replaced by genuine interest. "And how does sending Karg after him improve the situation? That one is ambitious. If he sees it as advantageous to him, he will not hesitate to obey his orders and change the flow of time."

"If he succeeds," Gorkon said fiercely, "which I doubt very much. If Krang is as good as he's supposed to be – and I believe that he is – Karg's attack will do nothing more than give him a kick up the backside and encourage him to question what is happening. Krang is one of the most honourable men I've ever met. Given enough time, he will eventually see the dishonour in his orders and take action. But he's running out of time. The two years he agreed to is almost up and we cannot be sure what his successor will do.

"I am assuming," Meth said thoughtfully, "that if Karg fails in his mission, then Koreth will succeed him?"

Gorkon nodded. "Correct."

"He is a straightforward, honourable man," Meth acknowledged. "I can work with that if necessary but I would prefer that this is dealt with sooner rather than later. Your interference is understandable, Gorkon. Now tell me, what are your plans?"

"At the moment, Krang is able to reconcile his orders with his sense of honour," Gorkon told the operations master. "I cannot change his sense of honour, but I can change his orders. When the courier ship leaves in the morning, there will be new orders on board and they will be brutal enough that if he is able to obey them, then he is not the man I know him to be."

Happy New Year everyone, may 2021 be a good one for you all.