The Court of Justice, Qo'noS, 2375
Late Evening, Trial Day 5
"I spent most of the journey worrying," Krang told the court. "It was all going horribly wrong, and I had absolutely no idea what to do for the best. The children at least were happy. Both of them got what they wanted – Marla took Fina to see the ship's engines, and Koreth allowed Toni to spend some time on the bridge, even letting him sit in the captain's chair."
That had caused quite a stir, Krang remembered with bitter humour. On a Klingon ship, even a lowly transport, nobody but the captain ever sat in that chair. If the captain was not on the bridge, it would remain empty. But on learning that it was Antonio's sixth birthday, he'd surprised the boy by not only allowing him to sit in the chair, but to give some orders as well. Krang was not completely sure what the bridge crew had thought of those orders, but they'd carried them out as diligently as though they'd been given by Koreth himself… although with the brigadier standing watchfully behind the command chair, that had not, perhaps, been surprising. Afterwards, Toni had declared it the best birthday ever!
As for Fina, Marla had taken good care of her, and she'd had the time of her life in the engine room. Everyone had expected her to get bored, but she'd shown a genuine interest that had touched the hearts of the engineering team and had asked a lot of questions that Marla had been hard pressed to answer at a level a four-year-old would understand.
Klingon Transport ship Terra-One
With the children occupied, Krang and Chrissie had the opportunity to talk, but it hadn't gone well. The Klingon was too angry to be reasonable, and inevitably, they'd ended up fighting.
"Do you not realise, Qis'ta, the danger you have put yourself in? he asked her angrily. "More importantly, the danger you have put the children in? Quite apart from the fact that you have acted dishonourably. You have lied to me, manipulated me, betrayed me!"
She glared at him, unwilling to admit the truth of at least some of his accusation. Betrayed, though? That was unfair, there had been no betrayal, not by any definition of the word of which she was aware, although how that stubborn Klingon would define it was hard to say. "I did what was necessary. I…"
He cut her off. "This is not some exciting adventure, Chrissie. It is not one of your stories and there is no happy ending. Do you not understand? When we arrive at my homeworld, I will be summoned to the High Council to account for my crimes. There is only one outcome of that – summary execution!"
"Oh for…" She shook her head in disgust. "Honestly, Krang, anyone would think you wanted to die!"
The accusation stopped him in his tracks. "What? No! Of course, not!"
"Then why will you not at least consider other options?"
"Like what?" he demanded impatiently. "There are no other options!"
"Of course, there are," she insisted. "You could start by not obeying that summons – and don't you dare go on about that being dishonourable! They are the ones lacking in honour, not you! Why should you die for their greed and ambition?"
The empty tankard slammed down on the table with a satisfying thud. "The nerve of the woman!" Krang reached for the bottle only to realise that it too was empty. Tossing it aside with a discontented growl, he continued, "Would you believe, she only wants me to steal a ship and defect to the Federation!"
It was late night and with the exception of Krang and Koreth, the officer's mess was empty. One or two officers had entered the room, looking for something to drink, but seeing the glares directed at them by the two seniors, had wisely decided to be elsewhere.
This was not how Koreth had planned to spend his evening, but when Krang had come storming onto the bridge in an obviously bad mood – something that he correctly guessed to be woman related – taking him down to the mess and getting him drunk had seemed the obvious solution. That Krang's Terran mate was indeed the source of his temper was not particularly surprising, but what was unexpected was that Chrissie had come up with a workable plan.
Choosing to give himself some time to think by dealing with the most urgent issue, namely, the lack of bloodwine, Koreth pulled out another bottle and opened it in the time-honoured method used by soldiers who did not have a bottle-opener to hand, with a quick tap of his dk' tahg blade against the neck. It was lucky, he reflected wryly, as the bottle separated into two pieces, that unlike Terran wine, these bottles were not made of glass and were designed for such a brutal way of opening them. "More wine?"
"That stuff is swill," Krang complained. "Haven't you got anything better?" Nevertheless, he held out his tankard for a refill.
"Not unless you've got any Inigan hidden in that shuttle of yours," Koreth grunted, pouring the thick, oily and distinctly foul-smelling liquid into Krang's tankard and then topping up his own. He took a mouthful and grimaced. "This is standard Defence Force issue. And you're right, it is disgusting. Still, it's better than nothing." He swallowed another mouthful before adding thoughtfully. "Actually, it's not a bad idea."
Krang frowned. He'd had just a bit more alcohol than was advisable and he was not quite keeping up with Koreth's train of thought. "What?"
"Defecting," Koreth said succinctly. "If she's right about the Federation being willing to accept you, then you should consider it."
This time when the mug came crashing down, its contents went everywhere, spilling on Krang's uniform tunic and splashing across the table. Uncaring of the mess, he let out a roar. "You will NOT say such a thing!"
"I mean it, Krang," Koreth insisted, not particularly bothered by his superior's show of temper and unwilling to let it go. "You have a mate and children to think of. What have you got to lose?"
"Only my honour," Krang protested, shocked by Koreth's almost casual attitude to such a serious problem.
"Honour?" Koreth snorted. "We've disobeyed the High Council and committed treason. As far as they are concerned, any honour we have is already in tatters.
Unable to answer that, Krang changed tack. "And what of you, Koreth? If I defect… if I run…" and he pronounced that word with a contemptuous sneer. "…Who do you think will become their scapegoat?"
"I am aware of that," Koreth said heavily. Whatever Krang thought of him, he was neither naïve nor stupid. He knew the consequences of what he had suggested, and he knew also that his path had been set the day he'd confronted Krang and ended up agreeing to help him. "I am the senior Defence Force officer," he reminded Krang. "Regardless of your fate, do you think the High Council will believe in my innocence? Believe that you could have achieved this without my help?" He shook his head. "And if they did believe it, I'd be executed for stupidity. So really, what do you…"
A faint sound – a Defence Force boot on metal deck plates, Koreth realised after a moment… and it took some effort for one of those to sound quiet… caught his attention and he turned in his chair to face the door. "Kell!"
Deciding that he was hungry and that a mug or two of bloodwine would not go amiss, Kell left the claustrophobic confines of the cupboard sized space that passed for his quarters on this Gre'thor stricken garbage scow and made his way through the dark corridors to the mess hall.
About to round the final corner and enter the hall, he heard the indistinct voices of his superiors, engaged in some sort of argument. The security captain's voice rose to a roar and Kell found himself increasing his pace; the last thing he needed was for this voyage to end with the two most senior officers killing each other in some sort of drunken fight… and a little voice said that if they did, he wanted to be there to see it!
He was in the doorway now and the voices were no longer indistinct. Defection… Treason… Execution…
Fury coursed through the colonel as he listened. He'd known Koreth had been lying to him! Known that these orders could not be genuine! But he'd chosen to trust his old friend and let the subject drop. Now he had to choose again – storm in there and probably get himself killed for no good reason or continue to trust his old friend. With some effort, he forced the anger down. Imperial Intelligence thought that the Defence Force were heavy handed butchers, too stupid to do anything more useful than rush in waving a bat'leth. Better to take the time to think, to investigate and make an informed decision based on the facts. For now, he concluded, he would hold fire.
His mind made up, he stepped into the mess hall and approached his colleagues, trying his best to sound casual. "Any of that bloodwine going spare?"
The rest of the journey back to Qo'noS went surprisingly smoothly, other than the higher than usual number of 'incidents' between various crew members as tempers frayed and fights broke out. It was something which the officers considered inevitable considering the overcrowding onboard the ship, but that did not inspire them to lenience and any infractions were dealt with harshly.
Five days into the trip, the transport ship passed through what would one day be known as the Neutral Zone and crossed into Klingon space. From there, they took a circuitous route that would keep them well away from the established shipping lanes, since it would not do to emerge into the future right on top of – or worse, inside – another vessel. Three days later, Krang gave the order to engage the time dilator for the jump into the twenty-third century.
That was always a tense moment, with the engines pushed to maximum and all power diverted to structural integrity, and the ship almost tearing itself apart under the ferocity and violence of the shaking as it made its way through the treacherous and ever shifting temporal currents.
He'd warned his family what to expect, explaining to them that his responsibility was to the entire ship and that he could not be with them during what he knew would be a very scary time for them. Afterwards, Chrissie had told him that although obviously scared, the young ones had been very brave, and had come through the violent shaking with surprising calm. They were, he supposed, too young to understand the danger. She'd been very subdued when she spoke to him, no doubt as a result of her own fear combined with his continuing bad temper.
Krang spent most of the journey thinking and brooding – and making life difficult for the other senior officers, most of whom, with the exception of Koreth and Kay'vin (and possibly Kell, although that one had said nothing to indicate either way) were unaware of the reasons for the withdrawal, and did not understand his bad mood. On one hand, he was grateful to have a little extra time with his mate and children. On the other hand, he was still furiously angry with Chrissie, unable to get past the idea that she had let him down. On the third hand – not that he actually had one, he still did not know what to do.
Despite his objections, he found himself considering Chrissie's idea. She was Terran and could not be expected to understand Klingon honour or the significance of what she was asking him to do. But Koreth, who was undoubtedly one of the most honourable men he'd ever met, did, and the brigadier's support for Chrissie had caught him by surprise and given him much to think about.
The whole thing was ridiculous. His shuttle, the one in which Chrissie and the children were currently residing, was warp capable, but it was not suitable for the long-range travel necessary to return to Earth. Nor was it fast enough to escape a pursuing bird-of-prey. The only viable option would be to steal a ship, just as Chrissie had suggested… and he was not sure what annoyed him more – that she had made such a suggestion, or that it might actually work. Steal a ship? Really? It was not that it would be particularly difficult. As a security captain of Klingon Imperial Intelligence, who also happened to be the brother of the Line Lord, gaining access to the secure areas of the Inigan shipyard would be easy. Provided, of course, that he acted quickly, before the news of his treason became public. He shook his head. No, it was ridiculous!
The last four days of the voyage passed interminably slowly, yet at the same time, far too quickly for Krang's liking. He had come to no final conclusions, but calculated that once the ship docked, he would have a little time – a day or two at best, or a few hours at worst, before the High Council and the Defence Force realised exactly what happened. He'd written a full report for the operations master, and a shorter one for the High Council, explaining his choices, exonerating his juniors, and taking full responsibility for his actions. Remembering Koreth's words in the mess hall, he could only hope it would be enough.
In the meantime, Krang decided, he would go home and face his older brother. There was going to be what the Terrans called a witch hunt, although he was not completely sure what a witch actually was, and Meren deserved to know why he had turned traitor and dragged the family name through the mud.
The image of the green-grey planet that was Qo'noS, the capital of the Klingon Empire, grew inexorably larger on the screen. Eventually, twelve days after they had left Earth, the moment came when Koreth had his comms officer open a channel to Orbital Control, audio only.
"This is transport vessel Terra-One, requesting docking facilities."
"Terra-One, this is Orbital Control. We were not expecting you. You are going to have to wait a while. Take up a standard queuing position and we'll get you in at Space Dock Three…" A voice was heard in the background, speaking to the flight controller, who immediately corrected himself, "No, make that Space Dock Two… as soon as a berth becomes available."
"Understood, Orbital Control. Transmitting our logs, damage reports and supply requisitions now. Terra-One out."
With no further ado, Koreth cut the transmission and turned to Krang. "Well, it's done, sir," he said heavily. "We are home."
Author's note: I finally finished restructuring this story and everything that relates to Volume 1 has been removed. Its had the awkward side effect of making the chapter numbers a bit skew-whiff due to 35 chapters being removed. The first three chapters have been rewritten to make this a standalone story.
On a lighter note, I find myself thinking that if my chapters had names, this one would have to be called "The Voyage Home" even though there's no whales in it. It's a filler chapter admittedly, but hopefully still entertaining, and I think it does move the story on significantly.
Thank you again to the usual suspects, I really do value all your comments and support.