An hour? He had hoped for more time, and swearing under his breath, Meren quickly began to issue instructions. "Have Night Dagger brought out from the hanger and made ready for immediate departure."

"HIja joHwI." Loyal servant that he was, the gin'tak did not understand what was happening, but it never occurred to him to argue or refuse. "It will be done at once."

"Meren?" Krang was understandably confused by the order. "What are you doing?"

"You don't need to steal a ship, brother," Meren said, holding up a hand to forestall Krang's protests. "I am not stupid; I can guess what you were planning. It is not necessary. Night Dagger is fast and manoeuvrable enough to outrun any pursuit."

Krang growled. He had not realised just how transparent his thoughts on the subject had been. He'd known when Chrissie had suggested it, that stealing a ship was never going to be as simple as she'd made it sound, but that his brother would not only guess his plans, but offer him Night Dagger, was a turn of events that he had not expected. Still, it was an offer he could not refuse.

"I assume any belongings or luggage you have on the shuttle is all packed up and ready to transfer?" At Krang's nod, Meren continued, addressing the gin'tak again. "Have some of the servants transfer everything from the shuttle onto Night Dagger. Hurry, there is little time." Barely stopping for breath, he was addressing Krang again. "If you have anything in your room that you want, I suggest you go and get it now."

Krang thought for a moment. The room in question was the one he had used as a child and now that he was an adult, he spent little enough time at home that he'd never bothered to upgrade its décor or move to a bigger, more suitable room. Posters from his teens still hung on the walls, and a shelf contained the Battle Cruiser Vengeance action figures he'd once been so proud of – and he wondered for a moment what Chrissie would make of the little model of the scantily-clad, green-skinned Orion slave girl that stood in pride of place next to Captain Koth. With a faint touch of embarrassment, he remembered the… um… magazines… that were probably still hidden in the box under the bed. No, he needed nothing. Except… maybe some clothes. He was no longer entitled to wear the black uniform of Imperial Intelligence; he would need something to wear. Mind made up, he set off at a run towards his old childhood bedroom.

Meren watched him go, listening to the fading sound of heavy boots on the stairway, before opening up his computer. He had no intention of staying behind and leaving his little brother and his new family to fend for themselves. His sister's words resonated in his mind. "…protect the House and family… rely on me to support you…" The little Terran girl had said much the same. "…supposed to protect him…"

Quite apart from that, he was a soldier at heart, not a farmer. The life of a vineyard owner was not for him, and he was bored out of his mind. On top of that, he admitted readily, if only to himself, was the lure of proper medical treatment. There was no decision to be made. If Krang was defecting to the Federation, then so was he!

There was much to be done and little time to do it. Swiftly, he pulled up the Estate deeds and after adding in a clause that forbade their sale until his return, forwarded them to his sister, along with a hastily written note, to which he added the digital signature that would make the transfer of ownership legal. Whatever happened, the High Council would not get their greedy hands on the estate or the vineyard. Deliberately, he left the shipyard and the family's other business interests in his own name, offering them up as a sacrificial targ for the slaughter. He had no investment in them other than financial and could live with their loss if it protected his home. Satisfied that it was all legal and watertight, he transmitted the documents, and forwarded a copy to the records department of the High Council. Whatever happened now, the Inigan estate would be safe.

The Court of Justice, Qo'noS, 2375

Trial Day 5

Once again, the murmuring began, quietly at first, and then rising to a loud grumble as the spectators reacted to what they had heard. Nobody had expected to hear that the Inigan line lord had not only condoned his brother's treason but had joined him.

There was so little left to tell, Krang thought as he waited for silence to fall again, maybe only a few more minutes of evidence and then he would be done.

Everything happened so fast after that," Krang said, picking up the story again. "I remember shoving some clothes and a few other bits and pieces into a kitbag and running back downstairs to find Chrissie. Meren followed me, a few minutes later, although not quite so quickly. He was also carrying a kitbag, and that confused me."

"Meren? What are you doing?" It was the second time in as many minutes that he'd asked that question, Krang thought with irony, wondering if he'd get a sensible answer this time.

"Packing my things," Meren responded shortly. "What does it look like?"

"I can see that," Krang shot back, "but why?"

"You have proved that you cannot be trusted to look after yourself and keep out of trouble," Meren growled, "and so, I am going with you."

"But…"

Meren cut him off ruthlessly. I can, if you prefer it, have you arrested and handed over to Meth. I am sure he will have much to say to you."

Krang winced. That was true enough. He had no qualms about facing the High Council. He owed them nothing and when they drew their knives to strike him down in the traditional way, he would face them proudly, with his head held high. But Meth had been his mentor, someone he respected deeply, even cared for, and he had let him down. Worse, he had betrayed his trust. What had Meth told him? Obey your orders… Act honourably at all times… No, he did not want to see the disappointment and condemnation in Meth's eyes. "But…" he said again, somewhat inarticulately, needing to prevent his brother from throwing his life away on his behalf, but failing miserably in finding the words.

Once again, Meren stopped him. "My decision is made," he said sharply. "There will be no further discussion."

Krang might have argued further, but at that moment, Chrissie appeared with the housekeeper and the children. Where the men had fetched clothing and weapons, the women had raided the kitchen, and arranged for food supplies, including a couple of large cases of bloodwine, to be taken over to Night Dagger.

Chrissie had not expected to find an ally in the housekeeper. The dour-looking woman had known Krang for his entire life and no matter what accusations were thrown at him, she would remain loyal. She'd heard the stories on the newscasts and did not believe them in the slightest. Her Krang was not a traitor, and it broke her heart that he must flee. Still… if he was to spend the rest of his life as a fugitive in the Federation, it was good that he had this tera'ngan woman who so obviously cared for him.

The woman had taken them into the kitchen, which Chrissie had been surprised to see was not that different to the one in the old French farmhouse. There were, she supposed, only so many ways a room intended for food preparation could be laid out. Certainly, there were devices and equipment that she did not recognise, but the big, 'oak' table and the old-fashioned aga-type oven spoke for themselves. She'd brought out some of the less offensive of Klingon foods, including the gladst that Chrissie liked so much, even providing a portion of candied racht when Toni asked her for it in almost perfect tlhIngan Hol.

The woman's English was quite good and before long, the two were exchanging stories, Chrissie making the housekeeper laugh with her tale about the tree in the botanic gardens, and in turn, she regaled Chrissie with some very entertaining stories of Krang's childhood.

Antonio had been listening quietly, eating the racht and enjoying the stories about his new father… Vav, he corrected himself; the Klingon word was okay and he didn't mind using it, but he was still not comfortable with the word 'father' in relation to Krang. When the gin'tak came into the kitchen, talking rapidly into his communicator, the boy turned his attention to the newcomer. Unlike his mother, he understood enough of the language to be able to work out what was being said.

The housekeeper too had been listening. Rising to her feet, the woman unleashed a torrent of tlhIngan Hol that was too fast for the boy to follow. Seeing his mother's anxious look, he shook his head. "He said that soldiers are coming, Mama. I think they are looking for Vav and they're going to go and tell him. I'm sorry, Mama, I couldn't get the rest of it."

After that, everything happened so fast, and exactly seventeen minutes after the warning, they had joined up with the men and were on their way out of the house to… Chrissie didn't know where, but she trusted her mate enough to follow him and not ask awkward questions. Outside, she found that it was dark. It didn't feel late enough for that, and she realised that thanks to all the travelling, her time sense was a little skewed. The frosted grass and the sub-zero temperatures had already told her that it was winter here, just as it was back home in London. Far in the distance, she could see the lights of First City, and in the black, cloudless sky, stars formed unfamiliar constellations.

Halfway across the lawn, Krang stopped, turning back for one last look at his old, childhood home. It was unlikely, he knew, that he would ever be able to return to Qo'noS and he would never see it again. It did not matter, he told himself resolutely; Chrissie was his home now… and with that, something crystalised in his heart and he knew what he must do. He looked around him… yes, with the presence of the gin'tak and the housekeeper, there were enough witnesses. "Chrissie-oy, wait…"

Never letting go of her children, she stopped and turned back towards him. "Is something wrong, Krang-oy?" Don't be silly, she castigated herself. They were fleeing for their lives; of course, there was something wrong.

He shook his head. "No. Qis'ta Rose Martinez, I would take you as my legal mate, here and now, in my ancestral home, under the sight of the naked stars." Remembering what Grapok had told him, he dropped to one knee before continuing. "Will you do me the honour of taking the oath with me?"

"What… now?" Chrissie was startled by the unexpected question.

He nodded. "Yes." Seeming to sense what she was thinking, he added, "We can still have a Terran wedding when we reach Earth. But I would have us legally married by the traditions of my own people as well."

This was really important to him, she realised. She knew almost nothing of Klingon wedding customs, except that thing Kay'vin and Marla had done, cutting their hands. She did not know if she could do that, but she could not refuse. "Yes… Yes, Krang, I will marry you."

She had agreed! Heart pounding, Krang removed his d'k' tahg from its sheath, and with swift precision, drew the blade across the palm of his hand, cutting just a little deeper than he would for an 'ordinary' blood oath. The knife was extremely sharp and there was almost no pain. He watched with satisfaction as the blood welled up and pooled in the palm of his hand. He wanted this one to leave a permanent and very obvious scar. "Qis'ta Rose, from this moment on you are my life-mate, and I will love, protect and respect you and all the children we may have together, for the rest of my life and beyond."

He'd missed out the 'Martinez' this time, Chrissie noted, and she was glad of that. She wanted nothing of Diego to be part of this moment. Taking a deep breath, she held out a hand for the knife; it was her turn now. Her heart beating fast, both in fear and anticipation, she placed the blade against her palm… and stopped. She wanted this. She wanted it so much… but she couldn't cut herself. Hating herself for her cowardice, she looked up, her eyes meeting his, beseeching him for help. "Krang?" Her voice wavered a little. "Can you do it?"

He understood. Stepping forward and ignoring the violet blood dripping from his own hand, he took the knife from her. His free hand reached for hers, thumb caressing her palm in a way that was both teasing and seductive. "Look at me, Chrissie…" She did so, eyes flicking up to meet his and then back to the knife. "No…" he castigated her, "look at me… look at my eyes." He continued to caress her, a very light, gentle touch that almost tickled, and then he offered her a satisfied smile. "There. It's done. Now make your vows, Chrissie-oy."

Stunned, she looked back at her hand, taking in the thin line, scarlet blood emerging and mixing with the violet fluid that had dripped from his own bleeding hand. She hadn't felt a thing. Fear gone now, elation took its place, and pressing her palm against his, she made her vows. "Krang puqlod Marek Inigan tuQ…" She had wondered what words she would say, what promises she would make, but now that the moment was here, it came to her, and she knew what she wanted to say. "You are the first and only heart. From this moment on, I am your life-mate. Together we will stand against all who would destroy us, and I will love, trust and respect you for the rest of my life and beyond."

Neither of them had used the usual words of the Klingon wedding ritual but the simple, heartfelt declaration, spoken in front of witnesses, was enough to make the ceremony legal. It was done. Under Klingon law, they were husband and wife.

A big thank you to RobertBruceScott for your kind words about the previous chapter. They are copied here... Quite enjoyable encounter between the brothers - and I enjoyed the side-note about daughters in the storyteller's segment.

Fun that Krang kept Fina with him - something between a shield and a good luck talisman. Clearly a strong bond between the brothers if tinted by klingon culture.

Also liking the languid story pacing in the face of imminent military threat.

Thanks! rbs

Author's note: the concept of the naked stars comes from John Ford's iconic novel 'The Final Reflection'. The naked stars are considered witnesses and words spoken and deeds performed in their sight will never be forgotten.

Klingon male names: Krang puqlod Marek Inigan tuQ... literally Krang son of Marek, of the House of Inigan. puqlod meaning "son of" and tuQ meaning "House"... House referring to the dynasty rather than the physical building.