Krang had called ahead and informed Grapok that Chrissie wanted him to meet some of her Terran friends and could he arrange a suitable table for four people? Happy to be welcoming the boss back to his establishment, the chef had been quick to agree even as he pondered the layout of his restaurant. Visiting Klingons and Terrans tended to keep themselves segregated, and mixed species groups, while not completely unheard of, were very rare.

In the end he'd chosen a table near the dance floor, on the right-hand side opposite the bar. Musing on the coincidence of both senior officers coming in on the same night, he reserved an equally good table for Brigadier Koreth.

Grapok glanced at the clock above the bar. Almost 7pm; the restaurant had been open since five and was getting busy, as was indicated by the noise levels. There was nothing quiet, he thought wryly, about off-duty Klingons.

About to head back to the kitchen, he saw Kay'vin and Marla came in so he went over to greet the couple personally and congratulate them on their marriage. News of their tera'ngan wedding had spread like wildfire as had the gossip about the very short dress the bride had worn. The soldiers who'd attended were unanimous in their approval and more than one had been heard to admit that QuchHa fashion or not, they wouldn't mind seeing their own mates dressed like that.

Marla was removing her outer garment, an actual Terran coat very similar to the one he often saw Maggie wearing. Underneath it, the rest of her clothing was also Terran and he was amused to notice that he was not the only one staring. The soldiers were right, Grapok decided, she did look good. Kay'vin was a lucky man.

Grapok's eyes strayed across the room, looking for Maggie. Wearing what she laughingly called her uniform – a black skirt not very different to Marla's, with a white blouse and a little apron tied around her waist, she was standing with her back to him, giving instructions to one of the other waitresses. As though sensing his gaze, Maggie turned slightly, looking over her shoulder and offered him a smile. It lasted only a moment before the occupants of a nearby table attracted her attention and she went to serve them.

He forced his eyes away, sternly reminding himself that she was not his and never would be. Interspecies relationships were not possible, at least not for someone like him. Unlike the boss, he was not a planetary ruler with a guard force at his disposal. He was just a slightly overweight chef and someone like Maggie would never look at him anyway.

Grapok shook himself. There was no time for self-pity; he had work to do. If Kay'vin and Marla were here, it would not be long until the boss arrived and he wanted everything to be perfect. Maggie had it under control out here and so he returned to the kitchen, where he found his business partner and friend loading a big tray of pies into the industrial oven. The trays were heavy when fully loaded and he moved to help.

"Thanks." Tom closed the oven door and set the timer. "It sounds busy out there tonight."

"It is," Grapok responded. "We're fully booked all night. Slightly overbooked actually, with the boss's group and then Koreth, but you know I couldn't refuse them."

"I know. I think you should work front of house tonight. If it's that busy, the girls could do with some backup. We don't need any trouble."

"I think you're right," Grapok agreed. "Can you manage in here?"

"We'll be fine," Tom assured him. "All the Klingon stuff is ready and what's left doesn't need much preparation. I can handle that. And Marcel and Luke…" He gestured towards the two part-time chefs they'd recently employed to help them at weekends, "…have got the human food sorted."

The Klingon nodded. "Understood. Shout if you need anything. I'll look after…"

He was interrupted by Maggie sticking her head around the kitchen door. "Grapok, your special guests are here."

Following Grenn into the restaurant, Krang and Chrissie had been given a warm welcome by Grapok, who seemed genuinely pleased to welcome them back to his restaurant. The chef had greeted them, shown them to their table and brought them a bottle of bloodwine, and this time, Krang noted with approval, it was not Opri vintner but one of the better vintages from his own estate. They'd stopped at Kay'vin and Marla's table to speak with the happy couple and congratulate them again on their wedding and had exchanged greetings with several other officers and soldiers who were eating in the restaurant. The Klingon community was a small one, much smaller than the humans realised, and he knew all of them by name.

Sarah and Kirk had not yet arrived and glancing at the clock on the wall, Krang saw that they were a few minutes early. How they'd achieved that, he would never know, considering how distracted he'd been by Chrissie's attire, as well as her obvious interest in the denim covering his backside. For once, he was out of uniform. It felt odd, but she'd insisted and so he was wearing the black jeans he'd acquired in Mauritius, paired with a dark brown tunic with fur trim and metallic sleeves that were almost, but not quite, chain mail. Other than his d'k tahg and a smaller knife in his boot, he was more or less unarmed.

Chrissie was wearing the green dress again, not through her choice, but because he'd asked her to. He liked the way she looked in it and there were good memories associated with that dress, memories that had led to kisses and a passionate encounter that caused them to be later leaving the house than planned. Grenn must have been flying the shuttle at much higher speeds than were recommended to have got them here not only on time, but early.

In one sense, that was good, but on the downside, he had time to brood. He was an analyst, not a field agent and with the obvious exception of this secondment to Earth, which was not at all the same thing, it had been many years since he was out in the field. It was fair to say he had worked on many important missions, albeit mostly from the safety of his office, but nothing compared to this. This was life or death, or maybe just death since for him, survival did not appear to be an option. The wellbeing and honour of the empire were at stake, not to mention that of Earth itself. He would admit it to no-one but himself, but he was nervous.

With some effort, Krang managed to keep at least some of his attention on the menu long enough to decide what he wanted to eat, although he would not order until his guests had arrived and made their own selections. "I think I'll have the steak tartare," he told Chrissie, "I liked it last time."

"Well, no wonder," she responded tartly, "It's not even cooked. You Klingons have a seriously weird obsession with raw meat."

"And you humans burn everything," he shot back. "You'll be wanting your steak cremated, I suppose."

Chrissie laughed. "Not quite. I just don't like my food walking around my plate and looking back at me. Medium rare is just fine. And I want some gladst as well. It's about the only Klingon item on the menu that's actually edible."

It was an ongoing battle between them and as such he stepped up the teasing. "You don't want any gagh then? Grapok assures me it's in fine condition today."

"In other words, it's jumping about all over the place." She shuddered at the thought of the disgusting creatures. "No thanks, you can keep them. Although…" Her expression changed to one of mischief, making her look very much like her daughter. "… I am sure that Cap… I mean Jim… would like to try it."

Krang frowned. She'd corrected herself quickly but mistakes like that were dangerous. He leaned closer to her, placing an arm around her shoulders and allowing his lips to brush against her ear in what would appear to any watchers to be a loving gesture between mates. "You must be more careful, Chrissie-oy," he chastised her, keeping his voice very low. "Remember what I told you. I know this meeting will not be easy for you, but no matter what happens, stay calm and think before you speak."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"You are not trained for this," he allowed. "But I am. Just follow my lead and trust me to guide and protect you." Releasing her, he reached for the menu again, pretending to study it, but in reality, keeping his attention firmly fixed on her. "Now… about that gagh…" Continuing his teasing, he never let up until she had relaxed and was laughing.

A small group of Klingon soldiers, having finished their meal and paid the bill, had got up to leave the restaurant. Krang watched as the Terran waitress thanked them graciously and began to clear the table. One of them said something to her and she laughed before pointing emphatically at the door. Krang did not need to hear the conversation to know that she was throwing them out. This he knew, was why Grapok only employed women front of house. The Klingon troops were generally respectful of the local females, accepting from them behaviour that in a man would be considered aggressive and confrontational. What appeared to be blatant sexism was in reality a clever ploy to keep the peace.

The door closed behind the soldiers and immediately opened again as a pair of Terrans, a male and a female, stepped inside. Recognising the man, Krang nudged his mate. "I think your friends have just arrived."

Chrissie turned in her seat to look at the door. He was right, Captain Kirk was standing in the entrance with Sarah at his side. Aware of his reputation, she noted with amusement that he was already playing the part of the attentive lover, standing far too close to her with his arm around her waist. Not that Sarah seemed to be objecting, Chrissie thought, her amusement turning to faint bitterness even as she reminded herself that Sarah was just acting a necessary part and did her best to ignore the little voice that asked if she needed to act it quite so well.

Standing up, she waved to attract their attention, aware that she was also attracting the attention of the other Klingons patronising the restaurant. That did not particularly bother her; Krang was their boss and no doubt they were curious about his Terran lover. Well, let them look.

Now that Captain Kirk and Sarah were here, Chrissie's momentary defiance faded and nervousness took its place. What on earth had made her think that meeting with representatives of both the Federation and the resistance in front of so many Klingons was a good idea? She must have been mad!

"It's good to see you, Chrissie." So saying, Sarah embraced her, leaning in to kiss her cheek, but actually doing that socialite 'kissing the air' thing, and as she stepped back again, Chrissie could see the coldness in her eyes, belying the fake warmth of her greeting.

"And you, too." Chrissie felt sick. She'd hoped that by now, Sarah might have calmed down a bit and be willing to put their argument behind them. They had been friends for so many years and it had been only a short time ago that they'd declared themselves sisters forever. Turning her attention to Kirk, she held out a hand as though she were meeting him for the first time and reflecting wryly that now it was her turn to demonstrate her acting skills. "And you must be Jim. It's good to meet you at last; I've heard so much about you."

Sensing Chrissie's tension, Krang got to his feet and came up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder and silently offering her his support.

"Krang-oy, this is my…" She faltered slightly, then continued, "this is Sarah."

The Klingon studied the couple. The human woman was taller than Chrissie by a couple of inches, with a slender, athletic build. She was smiling but the expression did not reach the cold, blue eyes that were assessing him in return. He found himself wondering just how and why she and his mate were friends, since at first glance they had absolutely nothing in common. This woman carried herself with an assurance that spoke of military training, and despite the blonde hair pulled back into an untidy ponytail, and lack of forehead ridges, she would not look out of place in a Defence Force uniform. With the exception of a pale green blouse, her clothing was utilitarian – cargo pants (or combat trousers as he'd heard Chrissie call that style), a black leather jacket and heavy boots that were almost Klingon in style.

Kirk, in contrast, seemed relaxed and unlike Sarah, his smile was genuine. The starship captain was almost unrecognisable in faded denim jeans and a navy sweater. He held out his hand to the Klingon. "It's good to meet you at last."

Krang accepted the hand and was pleased to find that his grip was firm with no sign of weakness. Not that weakness was a trait he'd expected to encounter. This man had risen through the ranks to become the youngest human ever to command a starship. Nor was it for nothing that he was considered the scourge of the Klingon Empire. He'd be interested to talk properly with Kirk, hear his stories and get to know the man behind the legend, but this was neither the time nor the place. The façade they had created must be maintained as long as they were in a public place that was much more crowded than he had hoped or expected. Instead, he gave a polite response to the man's greeting. "And you. I've heard a lot about you."

"I bet you have," Kirk said with an easy grin before turning his attention back to his 'date' and solicitously pulling back a chair so she could sit down.

With the table fully occupied, Grapok made an appearance, bringing the newcomers menus and offering them drinks. Perusing the list of guest ales, Kirk chose a pint of something with the odd name of Dancing Duck, and after a moment's thought, Sarah asked for a coca cola with ice and lemon.

Another group of soldiers came in and were directed to the recently vacated table. A second group came in and Krang saw Grapok turn them away. They could eat at the bar if they chose but the restaurant itself was full. They protested, one of them pointing towards the empty table only a few feet away from the security captain, but Grapok shook his head, telling him it was the bar or nothing. That table was reserved.

There was no time for Krang to wonder about that. The door opened for a third time and he saw Koreth ushering Kolana inside. Grapok was already greeting them and pointing in the direction of the table. Krang could only watch as they walked towards them. "Oh f…"

Thanks again to the usual 3 suspects, JDC0, Solasnagreine and RobertBruceScott. Is anyone else out there reading? Please do leave a little comment to let me know what you think. A big thanks also to my wonderful friend and beta reader Linny. I couldn't do this without you guys.