The Court of Justice, Qo'noS, 2375
Trial Day 5
"How is it possible," Krang asked, finally voicing the question he'd been meaning to ask since Chrissie had arrived, "that you are here with me now?"
He felt rather than saw her shrug. "I don't really know," she confessed. "Marla was talking to me and I wasn't really paying a lot of attention because I was thinking about you and wondering if you were okay, and that guard came up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder and told me to come with him. So, I did and here I am."
"Well, whatever the reason, I am glad of your company," he responded gruffly. "I have missed your presence in my arms, Chrissie-oy." It was nothing more than the truth. Cuddling was not exactly something Klingons were renowned for, but that meant nothing to him. Nor did he care if they were being watched by a surveillance camera. He was content. Chrissie was content. The rest did not matter.
"Do you think," she asked after a while, raising her head and looking up at him hopefully, "that Lorgh's evidence will make a difference? They must see, surely, that you are innocent. The chancellor and… and Meth… they wanted you to do what you did. That can't be treason."
Krang grunted and turned slightly to look at her. "Do not be too hopeful," he warned. "What they wanted… what anyone wanted is irrelevant. They did not communicate their desires to me in any meaningful way and hence, the decision, the responsibility was mine and mine alone."
"But.…"
"No, Chrissie." He cut off her protest. "What somebody wants has no legal standing in any way. The fact remains that I chose to disobey legally given orders from a member of the High Council. Nor did I stop there. I went on to put an end to the invasion, taking the fleet back to Qo'noS without permission and under false pretences. There is no other word for what I did but treason."
"Martok doesn't think so," she said rebelliously. "He's chancellor now. It's obvious he wants you acquitted. Can't he just wave a hand or make a proclamation or something?"
He let out a snort that was half laughter, half frustration at her lack of understanding. "No, he can't. Martok has no jurisdiction here. This is Krahl's domain. He is the senior judge and must uphold the law of the land. He is a good man, Chrissie, an honourable man. We must trust him to do what is right for the empire."
That was not reassuring but she nodded reluctantly, her eyes filling with tears that try as she might, she could not quite hold back. He reached out and very carefully wiped them away. "Do not cry, Chrissie-oy. You must be strong as indeed, I know you to be. Whatever happens, know that I have treasured our time together and I regret nothing, would change nothing. Now, come… no more tears. Let us simply enjoy these stolen moments together." He kissed her, teasing at her lips until they parted, allowing their tongues to meet in a way that was distinctly Terran but which he had learned to like very much.
Their time together passed all too quickly. Before they knew it, the door was opening again and the guard was beckoning for Chrissie to come with him. Neither of them argued, knowing how lucky they had been to get any time at all.
With reluctant obedience, Chrissie got up and moved to the door. She stopped there and looked back at her mate. She would see him again very soon in the courtroom but he would be in the prisoner's dock and she might as well be miles away in the witness area. Stifling a sob, she turned away and followed the guard back to the canteen.
Halfway along the corridor the guard stopped, glaring down at her in a manner that seemed just a little threatening. He spoke to her in Federation Standard English, with an accent that was so thick she struggled to understand it, although she mused that it was probably no worse than her Klingon accent. "You will say nothing of this. Do you understand?"
She didn't, not really, but she nodded anyway. "Yes, of course. I will do as you say."
He gave a sharp nod. "Good. I will take you to rejoin the others."
Something about the gesture and the way he carried himself was very familiar. She frowned, studying him carefully as she tried to figure it out. "You look like Grenn. Are you related?"
The soldier bared his teeth in a fierce grin. "He is my grandfather. He… suggested… that if I knew what was good for me, I would…"
He didn't finish. He didn't have to; Chrissie understood. At his grandfather's bidding – and once again, Grenn had looked out for her – this guard had broken the rules and put himself at risk to allow her to spend a few minutes with her husband. She placed a hand on his arm. "I am immeasurably grateful to you for what you've done." She sighed. "And as for your grandfather, I don't even know where to start, I owe him so much."
Embarrassed by her thanks, he shrugged. "I believe the correct response is 'you are welcome.'"
They started walking again, turning a corner and descending a flight of stairs to the lower level where the staff canteen was located.
"So, how did you end up working here?" she asked curiously as they walked.
"I got sick of the smell of bacon." Even the thought of it was enough to make him grimace. "I can't stand the stuff, and believe me, in my family that's almost worse than not liking gagh!"
Chrissie had lived with Klingons long enough to understand the reference to a common insult. Everyone liked gagh and only a coward or a weakling would refuse to eat it. Such a person would be considered less than Klingon. "Yes… I see how that could be a problem."
"I could have worked with the livestock," he continued, "or even with the marketing side of the business, but it didn't interest me."
"So, you got a job here?"
He shook his head. "Not quite. I am a sergeant with Homeworld Security. I was seconded here to look after security for the trial."
"Well, I am glad of it," she said sincerely. "I meant what I said, I really am grateful to you and I hope we meet again in better circumstances."
"Knowing my grandfather, that is very likely," he acknowledged. "Now go before we both get into trouble."
He watched as she hurried into the canteen and saw Grenn moving to her side, casually engaging her in conversation as though she'd never been gone. The old man glanced once in his direction, giving him the faintest nod of approval before manoeuvring her into the crowd.
Well, that had been interesting, the soldier thought, turning to go back about his duties. It was the first time he'd met a human, let alone used the language in anything but a classroom environment. He had never had much respect for humans but he was beginning to see why his grandfather thought so highly of this one.
None of the parties involved in Chrissie's little excursion noticed the judge watching her as she slipped back into the room. Krahl hid a grin and pretended not to notice. If he did, then he'd have to discipline them but no harm had been done and he really couldn't be bothered. Sitting in a comfortable chair – and while he might be the only person to sit down during a trial, that big throne was anything but comfortable – he was enjoying a mug of reasonable quality warnog and a slice of rokeg pie. It felt good to relax for a short while.
The forty-five minutes he had allocated for a break were almost up and with great reluctance, Krahl got to his feet. It was a shame, he thought, that they had to go back to the courtroom… or did they? Everything they needed was right here. Well, why not? Picking up his tankard, he slammed it down on the table, spilling a significant amount of the warnog in the process. The room went quiet as its occupants looked to see what the judge wanted. "Due to the lateness of the hour," he announced, "I suggest that with the approval of our chancellor, we continue with the proceedings right here in the canteen."
"I would not like to complain that my feet are hurting in these heavy boots," Martok growled, "Nevertheless, it is good to be sitting down. I approve whole-heartedly."
The prosecutor got to his feet, protesting loudly. "This is against all the rules of the meqba'. It is not done!"
"Nothing is done until it is," Martok said irritably. "I vote we do it… and since the last time I checked, the Klingon Empire was not a democracy, then what I say, goes.
"We are still in the information gathering stage of the trial," the Defender said. Unlike his colleague and opponent, he had quickly realised that however unconventional the proposition, it was pointless to go against both judge and chancellor. Besides, they were right, it was more comfortable in here. "I see no reason why we cannot continue here." He glanced at the judge before adding, "I assume, my lord, that when the time comes to render judgement, we will return to the main court?"
"You assume correctly, Defender," Krahl grunted. He studied the layout of the room before coming to a decision. "I suggest we rearrange the room slightly. I will remain here. Witnesses can take the tables over there…" He gestured towards his left before continuing, "Spectators can move to the other side and the defendant can stay in the middle."
It took very little time for the various groups to move to their allotted positions and after helping himself to another mug of warnog from the replicator, Krahl sat back in his chair and surveyed his surroundings. "I believe we are ready to begin," he said with some satisfaction. "Guards, bring the prisoner."
Loire Valley, France
Wednesday 2nd February 1994
The time Krang had spent at Washington the previous day had been productive. He'd succeeded in altering the execution footage, even if it had taken him longer than it should, thanks to his distraction. He'd spent more time fantasising about Chrissie and wondering just what she had in mind for when he got home than he had on his work and his task had taken far longer than it should have done. In the end though, he'd uploaded the footage along with a carefully worded letter to the operations master and then sent the courier ship on its way.
In fairness, Chrissie had more than delivered on her promise… or had it been a threat? He was not too sure. Either way, it had been a memorable night for all the right reasons and one that for a very short time, had allowed him to forget his problems. He had high hopes that after the romantic drama of Kay'vin and Marla's unexpected wedding – not that the idea of them marrying was surprising, just the way they had done it – tonight would be equally rewarding.
Even as his body responded to the images in his mind, his mood darkened. Would he and Chrissie ever be able to marry? He'd taken Chrissie as his mate and he had no intention of going back on that, but he could see no way for their relationship to survive what he must do. Come to that, he could see no way for him to survive, not and retain his honour. Well, he did not fear death and when the time came, he would face it proudly and with head held high.
Momentarily, he thought of his superior. What would Meth do? What advice would he give? To the outside world, Meth was cold and ruthless, a terrifying monster with a ruined, expressionless face. Krang was one of the very few who knew the other side of him, who had seen the warmth he kept so carefully hidden. Meth, he remembered, had told him to act with honour and to follow his orders. Right now, those two instructions seemed incompatible. No, there was no help to be had there; he was on his own.
Impatient with his own self-pity, he shook himself. The shuttle was starting to descend and he was almost home. It landed with a gentle bump and the pilot opened the hatch, letting in a blast of frigid air. With a nod of thanks, he gathered his cloak around him and exited the shuttle, hurrying down the snowy path that led to his home.
Chrissie was waiting for him, and slamming the door shut behind him, he drew her into a close embrace that did much to soothe him and drive out the chill. "You're cold," she accused, wriggling out of his grasp. "And late!"
He bit back a laugh. "It's winter out there. And if I'd been able to get on with my work this afternoon, instead of attending a wedding and having my second in command disappearing off on a shopping trip afterwards, I might have been home on time."
Chrissie grinned. "I can't believe he fell for that. So… are he and Kolana an item, then?"
"It does seem that way," he said. "With any luck, that'll keep him off my back for a while. So, anyway… I suppose the children are already in bed?"
She reached up and kissed him before answering. "They went up about half an hour ago. They're awake though, and waiting for their story. Toni said something about the three little pigs in space?"
"Something like that," he agreed, adding mischievously, "It's part three tonight. Come and listen and you'll find out if the big bad wolf manages to blow up the third little pig's space cruiser…"
Chrissie spluttered with laughter. "With great regret, I'll pass. Off you go and I'll have a hot meal ready for when you come back down."
She was as good as her word. When he returned from the evening's storytelling, she was serving up a generous portion of the venison stew that Marie-Claire had prepared earlier that day. She put the bowl on the table in front of him and sat down to keep him company as he ate. The food was good, if overcooked by his standards and he finished it quickly, following up with a second helping.
"I've been thinking," she said eventually, taking the empty bowl from him and putting it in the dishwasher.
"Oh? What about?"
"It occurred to me," she said carefully, "that there is help available that we have not taken into account."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well… there's a Federation starship up there. It seems to me that it's very much in their interests to help us. Same with the resistance."
His frowned deepened as he considered it. "You're suggesting I talk to them?" It was not a bad idea, actually, he decided after a moment. "Very well. Tell me what you have in mind."
As always, thank you to JDC0, Solasnagreine and RobertbBuceScot for your comments. I always find it fascinating how you three pick up on such completely different points.