Loire Valley, France
Saturday 5th February 1994
The test was positive. There was no doubt about it; the two blue lines had developed almost immediately with a strength that was impossible to misinterpret. Chrissie looked at the test again. There was no change; the two blue lines were still there, clearly visible.
How was it even possible? Krang was an alien, a completely different species. Disregarding the obvious fact that their body parts fit together in a very pleasurable way, they were genetically very different. It wasn't just the ridges that extended not just across his forehead but all the way down his back; he'd told her about the brak'lul… the multiple organ redundancy that gave a Klingon warrior his characteristic stamina and resilience in battle and allowed him to survive wounds that would kill other, lesser species. The eight-chambered heart – although how that worked, she had no idea. The ribcage that formed a strong, protective lattice. Two kidneys, two stomachs, three lungs. Talk about ridiculously over-engineered. Even his blood was different. Chrissie remembered her shock the first time she had seen it… the odd, pinkish-lilac colour that made it look so unreal in her eyes. Apparently, like human blood, it was iron based, but the presence of other chemicals, enhancing the oxygen carriers and the white blood cells, gave his blood its distinctive hue. She shook her head. No, it should not be possible. But there it was, the positive test, telling her beyond a doubt that she was pregnant.
She'd begun to realise it last night, throwing up in the toilets of the Neutral Zone. There'd been earlier signs of course, but she hadn't taken any notice, blaming her nausea on the alcohol she'd drunk and the sight and smell of the half-raw meat she'd cooked… prepared rather, there certainly hadn't been much cooking involved.
Kneeling on the floor of the cubicle, retching into the toilet bowl, Chrissie had barely heard the door open, nor did she register the approaching footsteps. "Are you unwell?" The voice, speaking in heavily accented English, was Kolana's.
Chrissie did not know it but the Klingon woman had seen how unwell she looked and when she hadn't emerged from the bathroom, had become concerned and decided to check on her. None of the males could enter the ladies' room (although Kolana had a good idea that if he considered it an emergency, Krang would not hesitate) and from what she'd seen of that Terran woman, Chrissie was better off without 'help' from that source. She glanced across at Marla, who arguably knew Chrissie a lot better than she did, but that one was so wrapped up in her new husband that Kolana suspected a herd of pink targs could have come dancing past without being noticed. It looked like it was down to her to do something. Getting up from her chair and telling Koreth that she would be back in a few minutes, she made her way to the bathroom. It had taken her a moment to persuade the bodyguard to stand aside and let her past – he hadn't wanted to allow her access but she'd pointed out with some asperity that she was unarmed and not a threat and that unless he wanted to go in there himself, he'd better get out of her way and let him help. Not surprisingly, he'd seen the logic of that and here she was. And now that she was here, she found that she didn't actually know what to do.
For the moment at least, it looked like her stomach was done heaving, and somewhat blearily, Chrissie looked up. "Unwell? No… I… Maybe a little. I don't know." It was not the most helpful answer but in her current foggy state, it was the only one she had.
A little awkwardly, Kolana entered the toilet cubicle and placed one hand under Chrissie's elbow and the other across her back, helping her to her feet. The sound of the outer door opening again, caused her to tense, hand dropping from Chrissie's back to rest on her knife in readiness to defend them both. It was only the waitress, she realised, relaxing again.
The human woman looked a little flustered as she approached. "Chrissie, are you okay? Grenn just grabbed me and told me to come in here on check on you." She did not add that Grenn, not completely trusting of the Klingon woman, had told her to scream for help if there was any danger to Chrissie.
"I do not think she is… okay," Kolana said, saving Chrissie the bother of trying to talk. The word was a very colloquial one and she hoped she was using it correctly. "She was vomiting when I came in." Looking around her as she spoke, she caught sight of a chair in the corner of the room, next to the sinks. A largish arrangement of artificial flowers in a wicker basket sat on top of it and as Kolana manoeuvred her charge towards it, Maggie moved past her and unceremoniously picked up the flowers, dumping them on side, next to the sink. Stepping back to allow Chrissie room to sit down, she turned and entered the cubicle the two women had just vacated, flushing the toilet and disposing of the unpleasant-smelling mess. With that taken care of, she turned her attention back to the necessities. First things first, get Chrissie something to drink and get her cleaned up a bit. Taking a small hand-towel from the rack, she soaked part of it under the tap and handed it to Chrissie so she could wash her face. About to reach for a glass and fill it with water, she frowned, realising that there were none in the bathroom. Pretty flowers, soap, towels, even a basket of toiletries… all those things could be found in the washroom, but nothing to drink from.
Swearing under her breath, she turned to Kolana. "Go and get a glass of water from the bar, will you?" Seeing the Klingon woman bristle at being given what she perceived as an order from a Terran, Maggie added, "I'm supposed to be working. If I go, I'll end up being side-tracked and God knows how long I'll be gone."
Kolana nodded. That made sense. "I understand. Do you require anything else?"
"No… actually, yes." Maggie thought for a moment. "Tell Grapok to look and see if there's any ginger biscuits in the blue tin under the till. If there are, bring them as well."
Ginger? About to ask what that was, Kolana changed her mind and just went to get the required items. Questions could wait until later; the priority was to get the required items, not satisfy her curiosity. Whatever a ginger biscuit turned out to be, she would find out soon enough. It was, she eventually learned when Maggie opened the tin she'd brought back – Grapok having sent the entire thing rather than wasting time rummaging through it – something for eating… a hard, disk-shaped thing with a pleasantly spicy smell.
"They're very good for nausea," Maggie explained, seeing Kolana's enquiring look and correctly interpreting it. She waited until Chrissie had drunk some of the water and eaten one of the biscuits before asking if she felt better.
A little embarrassed by all the fussing, Chrissie nodded. "Thank you, I'm all right now."
Maggie frowned, remembering how pale Chrissie had looked the morning they'd had breakfast together. "How long has this been going on?"
"I…" Chrissie thought back. "A few days. It's just a stomach upset."
"Are you sure about that?" Maggie wasn't willing to let it go that easily. She hesitated before asking, "You are taking precautions, aren't you?" Chrissie's blank look told her everything she needed to know. "Okay, obviously not. When did you last have your period?"
Chrissie's already pale face went even whiter as she counted the days and realised that she was overdue. "I can't be pregnant. He isn't even human, we are different species."
"You're late, aren't you?" At Chrissie's nod, Maggie sighed. "Chrissie, I think you need to do a test."
Alone that morning, since Krang had gone to work as though nothing had happened, promising that he would spend the day with them on Sunday, Chrissie had taken the children into the village and paid a visit to the pharmacy. Grenn, of course, had accompanied her, something she rather thought he'd regretted when she stepped into the feminine hygiene section. He might not have been able to read the names on the various products but some of the pictures on the packaging had been rather graphic. Had she not been so stressed, she might have laughed at his expression as she persuaded him to wait a short distance away while she browsed. Picking up a pregnancy test, she'd also purchased some of the strawberry flavoured toothpaste her daughter liked, since they had almost run out. The shop assistant had not commented but something in the way the woman looked at the test as she put it in a little bag made Chrissie wish she'd gone somewhere further away where she would not be known. No doubt, she reflected with faint bitterness, the entire village would know by now that Monseigneur Krang's English lover had bought a pregnancy test. Not yet ready for Krang to know, she would have to ask Marie-Claire to keep her secret and hope that nobody else would tell him.
She could not help feeling stupid. Different species notwithstanding, how had she not considered the possibility of getting pregnant? She'd seen the look on Maggie's face when the waitress had realised she wasn't using precautions. It might seem stupidly naïve to the other woman but it had never occurred to her. The truth was, Diego would never have allowed such a thing – just one more way in which he had controlled her – and since his death, there had been no-one until she'd met Krang.
Looking at the little white stick again, Chrissie fought back tears. Just a day ago, she would have been happy and excited at the idea of having a child with Krang. But yesterday she'd still believed that she had the chance of a future with him. Until that awful moment when she had returned to the table and seen the look of smug satisfaction on Sarah's face, a look that to a certain extent, was mirrored on Kirk's. She did not know what they had discussed and decided, but they were both looked pleased with the result. In contrast, Krang's expression had been cold and shuttered. Whatever was going through his mind, he was giving nothing away and it seemed to Chrissie that she was looking at a stranger. He'd relaxed slightly when he'd seen her, his eyes softening as he drew her down, into the chair next to him and fussed over her, wanting to be sure she was all right. And then… and then, he'd dropped the bombshell that tore her world apart. They were leaving. The Klingons were leaving Earth and going home. More to the point, as far as Chrissie was concerned, Krang was leaving – and he wasn't taking her with him.
Leave Earth? Krang was shocked by Sarah's audacity. "What you demand is not within my authority."
"You are the senior officer here," Sarah pointed out, surprised by the calmness with which he had taken her demand. She'd expected him to go mad. "There is no-one else present on this planet with more authority than you."
Krang frowned thoughtfully. Sarah's attitude was overly confrontational but for all her obvious hatred of his people, she did actually have a valid point. "That is true." He was silent for a while before continuing, "Actually, yes… I think I could do it. It would not be particularly difficult for me to fabricate orders to that effect. The problem will be keeping my people away once we have left."
Sarah scowled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Krang explained bluntly, "that when we return to our own world and our own time, and the High Council realise what I have done, there is nothing I can do to stop them ordering a second invasion under a different commander."
Kirk nodded, his expression grim. Unlike Sarah, who would not have cared even if she had known, he understood what Krang was not saying… that he would be arrested and executed for treason. Respecting the Klingon's obvious desire to not discuss that, he concentrated on the matter at hand. "That's where we come in. It will be Starfleet's responsibility to ensure that you do not return – in the twenty-third century at least. Obviously, my ship cannot remain here indefinitely."
"We must take time travel into account," Krang reminded the starship captain. "The borders must be guarded in both time periods. There is no point in your patrolling the demilitarised zone between the Federation and the Klingon Empire in the twenty-third century if we jump back in time before crossing the border."
"Good point," Kirk acknowledged. "I might have an idea about that. I think the Vulcans might be willing to help."
"I suspect they will see the logic of preserving the timeline," Krang said wryly. "Now, we all know what we have to do, so I suggest that for the moment, we let the subject drop and reconvene at a later date, preferably at a quieter location."
Kirk grinned. "It certainly is busy in here. I have to say, I never thought I would end up having dinner in a roomful of Klingons. It's been an interesting experience." He reached out and picked up the tankard of bloodwine Krang had brought for him, sniffing it cautiously. "So, tell me… just what is this stuff? Has it really got blood in it?"
Since his family had been making bloodwine for generations, that was a question Krang could easily answer. From there, the conversation wandered into other interesting but innocuous topics as they waited for Chrissie to return.
Notes: This chapter jumps about a bit, between the friday evening at the restaurant and the following morning. this is deliberate and is indicative of Chrissie's confusion and upset as she attempts to process everything that has happened. Hopefully its fairly clear to follow.
For the benefit of any American readers, the biscuits mentioned are English style biscuits, not the scone-like things you eat with gravy, basically small cookies.
Thank you as always to my loyal reviewers, JDC0, Solasnagreine and RobertBruceScott as well as to my lovely beta, Linny. Special thanks to Solasnagreine for the advice and welcome back to JDC0.
Please bear with me as the next few chapters are critical and I need to take my time and get them right if this story is to conclude in the way it needs to.