Sickbay, Wednesday 24th July 2391
Chrissie watched as T'Lia made one last check of the life support computer. One switch and it would be over. One switch that was the hardest thing that any doctor ever had to do, especially when the patient was a friend. She knew that earlier that day, T'Lia had spent a little time sitting with Krang and making her own goodbyes before rising and going about her duties.
It had surprised Chrissie, actually, just how many people had come by to pay their respects to the fallen Klingon. Leandra and Rhiana had visited, and so had Moragh and several other FedKIN officers, some of whom she did not even know. Mackenzie and Kehlan had arrived, hand in hand, each offering the other what comfort they could. They were Krang's closest friends, and she had offered to step out and give them a little time alone with him, but they'd drawn her into a hug and told her to stay.
Even Kara had managed to have a little time with her father, albeit via subspace. That, Chrissie knew, was thanks to Mackenzie, who had contacted Armstrong's captain to arrange it.
Another old friend had visited as well, Marla, no longer a Defence Force officer but Endeavour's chief engineer. The Klingon woman had hugged Chrissie, apologising for not keeping in touch and promising to do better. "I have absolutely no doubt," she had told her human friend, "that Kay'vin will be waiting to greet your mate at the gates of Sto-vo-kor."
Smiling through her tears, Chrissie had hugged the Klingon woman back. "I have no doubt of that." She really didn't. Marla's husband had been absolutely and unflinchingly loyal to Krang and a good friend to her as well. How many years had it been since Marla had been widowed? How did Marla cope without her soulmate? How would she cope without Krang?
All her children were present, barring, of course, the one who was too far away, and she surveyed them now, taking a little strength in the strong familial bonds and the love they shared. Her two boys, so different from each other, yet both of them fine, honourable men. They stood side by side, ready for their part in the proceedings, their expressions equally grim. Fina, the oldest of her girls, leaning heavily on her husband and trying not to cry. Kally and K'ehleyr, arm in arm, supporting each other. And Arwen who was only ten, and too young to watch her father die. It had been a difficult decision as to whether her youngest should be present, but in the end, Chrissie had allowed her the dignity of choosing for herself.
The Vulcan woman nodded to the family, beckoning them closer. Chrissie took a deep breath and prepared to give the word. T'Lia would turn off the machinery and then her sons would act. She knew she had surprised them in asking for Hegh'bat, but her husband was a Klingon warrior. It was what he would want. She did not know if she believed in Sto-vo-kor or Gre'thor, or for that matter, Heaven. Maybe the atheists were right, and death was the end of existence. Still, she would not risk his afterlife. Her husband deserved better than the Barge of the Dead, and so she would have this done according to his beliefs.
Once before, many years ago now, Chrissie had thought she would lose him to death. Somehow, and she was never sure how, they'd survived that crisis, but it had raised questions that remained unanswered to this day. They were of different cultures, with different beliefs, she being Christian – Catholic to be precise although she did not often go to church; and he was… well, actually, she was not entirely sure what he was. Klingon religion was a complicated mess although it seemed to make perfect sense to them. They had their own equivalents of Heaven and Hell, but had apparently killed their gods millennia ago, so quite who organised and enforced the whole thing was anyone's guess.
Still, the question remained: What would happen after they died?
"Do you think," she had asked him plaintively, "that we will meet again one day? If God is real, if he's the loving, caring father I'm supposed to believe in, do you think he will let us be together again after we die?"
Her concerns had matched his own. Assuming that he did by some small chance find his way to Sto-vo-kor, would she be allowed entrance? He did not think he wanted to be there without her by his side. "Whatever my fate," he promised recklessly, "if there is even the smallest chance that we can be reunited beyond death, then I swear to you that I will wait for you. I will never stop searching for you."
It was time, and she could delay no longer. Carefully, Chrissie slid her hand into his. The flesh was so warm; it was hard to believe he was dying. She looked up at the Vulcan doctor. "Let him go," she ordered, her voice surprisingly strong and firm.
Reluctantly, T'Lia moved closer to the panel. She knew this had to be done, but that did not mean she liked losing a patient like this, especially not one who had been a good friend to her for so many years. Carefully, she checked the display one last time, ensuring there was no change, and then she touched the panel that would disengage the life support, opening it up, entering the authorisation codes and then, finally, unwillingly, pressing 'confirm'.
The constant hissing and beeping of the machinery died into an awful silence. One hand each on the hilt, Meren and Antonio lifted the dagger into position over Krang's heart and prepared to stab it down.
"Go, warrior, in honour to Sto-vo-kor." Together they pronounced the ritual words.
"Stop!" Fina lunged forward, her motion and the sudden shout catching everyone by surprise. She closed her hand over those of her brothers. "He's still breathing!"
Startled by her sudden movement, the brothers moved back slightly. T'Lia was already moving closer, a medical tricorder in her hand. She had intended to use it to record the time of death, but instead... Quickly, she scanned the unconscious Klingon, reconfigured the tricorder and scanned again. "His autonomic nervous system is functioning independently," she reported incredulously. "There are indications of higher brain functions."
Slowly the brothers lowered the knife. Hegh'bat was no longer an option... not if there was even the slightest chance that their father might recover.
Light. Soft, pale moonlight shimmering in the night sky. Or was it a reflection in the dark waters of the sea? He did not know, but he had made his choice and would follow it through. Slowly, reluctantly, he pushed his way upwards towards the light.
All was quiet, and he realised that he could no longer feel the machinery pressing against his heart, forcing it to contract and expand, pumping blood around his body. Nor could he sense any movement in his lungs. It was almost peaceful, and he could very easily slip back into the blackness and choose death. Except… he had promised, and it would be dishonourable to go back on his word.
Chrissie… his angel… his mate… she was out there waiting for him, and he had to go to her.
With some effort, he willed his heart to beat, at the same time opening his lips slightly to allow the oxygen to enter his lungs. It felt good, better than he could ever have imagined, to do such a simple yet vital thing for himself. A second breath, then a third and a fourth followed.
The light came closer, and it no longer felt threatening. Rather, it welcomed him, calling him back to consciousness. He could feel her now… she was so close, and he thought that she was holding his hand. He could smell her perfume, a soft, feminine scent that had nothing to do with artificial chemicals or sprays, but a unique, natural scent that was all her. His brother had not lied. She was right here by his side, and with monumental effort, he opened his eyes to greet her.
Chrissie let out a gasp as the large, calloused hand that only a moment ago, had been lying lifelessly in hers, twitched slightly, his fingers bending around hers.
"Krang?" Her voice full of desperate hope, Chrissie called her husband's name. His eyelids fluttered and she called his name again. "Krang-oy. Wake up, my love."
Another flutter and he opened the beautiful, hawklike eyes that she had thought she would never see again. They were unfocused and confused, but he was awake.
"Cr'ss'-'y." His lips barely moved, and the voice was hoarse and croaky with ill use, but it was definitely her name. The fingers twitched again before falling limp as his eyes slid closed again.
Stepping forward, T'Lia scanned her patient for a third time in as many minutes. "He's sleeping," she reported. "Naturally."
Quietly T'Lia excused herself, leaving the family to spend a little time together. She would return later to check on her patient. For now, she would busy herself by delivering the good news to FedKIN. In person would be preferable, she decided, stepping into the maglev car. She would have to tell Mackenzie and Kehlan as well, she remembered. They would be very pleased to hear the news.
Endeavour had come tearing into the solar system that morning as though, to use a Terran phrase, all the bats of hell were after it, and T'Lia suspected that if sound carried in space, she would have heard the screech of brakes as the ship came to a halt, inches away from crashing into the Starbase. It had been a spectacular display of piloting.
It was a long way to the command levels, all the way from hospital reception on deck 871 to the more private and heavily guarded entrance to FedKIN on deck 061. She almost considered asking for an intra-station beam, but about to activate her combadge to make the request, she changed her mind and decided to use the travel time to compose herself and re-establish her control. Her musings meant that the ten-stop journey up through the travel core seemed to take only moments even while her time sense informed her it had actually been thirty-one minutes and six seconds.
The FedKIN offices were located in the central core of the starbase so it was only a very short walk from the maglev. Ignoring the 'Private: Authorised Personnel Only' sign prominently displayed on the glass door, she went straight inside.
As he always was, the man everyone called 'the watchdog', mostly because they didn't know his name and were not completely convinced that he wasn't an android, was at the front desk. He looked up when he saw T'Lia, his usually stern features relaxing into something that was not quite a smile. "Healer T'Lia."
"Arthur." Inclining her head graciously, she returned his greeting. "Your wife is continuing to recover, I trust?"
"She is indeed, thanks to you. I'll tell her you asked after her. Do come over for tea when you have some free time; she'll be very pleased to see you." Recalling his duty, he added, "You're here to see the security captain, I imagine."
"That is correct," she confirmed. "Would you call and tell him I am here?"
"No need," the watchdog said easily. "He's in the big office down the corridor, second door on the right. Your clearance is still valid, so just sign in here and then go on through."
Busy in a meeting with Rhiana, Leandra, and his surgeon, Moragh gave an irritated growl as the door chimed. This day was not a good one. He'd already had an argument with Rhiana, putting both of them in a bad mood – admittedly, he had not picked the best day for it, but khest it, the woman was being unreasonable. He'd gone down to see Krang earlier that morning and pay his final respects – although that would probably be done at the funeral. Big, fancy send-offs were not a Klingon thing, but this was the Federation and that was how they did things here. It was a very odd concept and had it not been one of his closest friends, he would have been very interested to witness the proceedings. But it was his closest friend. It was Krang, and Klingon tradition be damned, this was not, and never would be, a good day for him to die!
His conversation with Rhiana had started off so well. He'd remembered to greet her politely and ask rather than order her to come into his office. He'd even used the word 'please' although she'd looked at him a bit oddly at that point, so maybe he'd overdone it.
"Sit down, Rhiana; I wish to talk to you about your work."
Not bothering to take the seat he'd indicated, she stayed where she was, staring at him, her delicately pointed eyebrows drawn together in a frown that clearly indicated her discontent. "Don't tell me," she guessed, "you don't think I am capable."
"Of filing and letter writing, no, I don't," he said bluntly. "We have secretaries for that. Your skills are wasted on such tasks."
"But what am I supposed to do?" she asked plaintively. "I don't know how to do my job anymore."
"You learned it once," Moragh pointed out. "You can learn it again. It's been a week now since you returned to work, and you are quite clearly bored and demotivated. I see no reason why…" He'd been about to say that he thought she should return to full duty, but at that moment, his door opened and Kahsil popped his head round.
"Sir, I've got the Operations Master on hold. He said… well, actually sir, you really don't want to know what he said, but the gist of it is that he is wondering what's happened to the report he's been waiting for."
"Report?" Moragh interrupted, giving his temporary aide a blank look because he had no idea what Kahsil was talking about, and as far as he knew, there was nothing outstanding. "What report?
"The one you were supposed to have sent him last night, sir."
Moragh's puzzlement increased. "I sent it… didn't I?"
"Um, no sir, you didn't. I already checked."
"Yintagh! Moragh swore. "I must have forgotten about it. Tell Lorgh it's on its way, will you?"
With Kahsil gone, Moragh had continued where he'd left off, explaining to Rhiana that he understood her concerns, but he'd make sure there'd be plenty of support in place for her. He'd thought she'd be pleased, but if anything, she'd seemed quite the opposite. Did she not wish to return to full duties? Was he being unreasonable in expecting it so soon?
It was when she'd got to the door and turned back to make one last comment – and he never did find out what she'd been about to say because one of the Starfleet agents came by at that time.
"Hey, boss!" he'd said cheerfully, "I'm heading out for a meeting. I should be passing by that doughnut shop on my way back if you want anything bringing back?"
"Moragh grunted, "Some of the chocolate filled ones would be good. Don't forget them like you did last time."
The agent laughed. "You know me, sir… memory like a sieve. I'm always getting into trouble at home. Wife says I'd forget my head if it wasn't fastened on."
It was at that point that Rhiana completely lost it, yelling at both men that she was absolutely sick to death of being the butt of their constant memory jokes, and since she'd been injured in the line of duty rescuing their missing security captain, it wasn't even funny. By now she was shouting loudly enough that half the department could hear her. Ending by saying something in her own language that they did not understand but surmised from context that it was very rude, and stormed out, leaving Moragh with the very distinct impression that if the door had not been of the sliding variety, it would now be hanging off its hinges.
After the way she'd stormed out, Moragh been more than a little surprised when she had turned up for the scheduled midday meeting with Leandra and the surgeon. It was not that the ex-mercenary really needed to be present, but at Rhiana's request, she was attending as a form of chaperone, and if it helped put her at ease and made the sessions go more smoothly, then Moragh was all for it.
The Romulan was still in a bad mood, but by now, so was everyone else, their minds on what was happening in sickbay, and so he wisely decided to make no comment, instead greeting her as though nothing had happened earlier.
Since her return to the office, they had been holding these sessions every day since Kroll felt that brief but frequent was the best way forward, with the intent of recovering and strengthening some of the more classified information locked away in Rhiana's brain. The Klingon neurosurgeon attached a small, round device, which he called a neuro-processor, but which, to Moragh's eyes looked more like a Borg implant. Whatever it was, it did seem to help. It might have been quicker and easier to work with one of the two Vulcan healers, Moragh mused as he watched his surgeon work, but they were not covered by an oath to Imperial Intelligence as Kroll was – although that was probably academic after the amount of time the younger healer had spent rummaging around in Krang's brain. Still, they were busy, and since Kroll seemed to be making every excuse possible to hang around the starbase a little longer, they might as well make use of his not inconsiderable skills.
The doorbell chimed again, more insistently this time. For some reason it startled Moragh, who had thought… hoped rather… that whoever it was had given up and gone away. He was busy! He cursed under his breath as the padd in his hand slid through his fingers and clattered to the floor and he cursed under his breath – although it was still loud enough for the other occupants of the room to hear the very rude word he'd muttered, and reached down to retrieve it. Head under the desk, he heard the door slide open and light footsteps approach.
"NuqneH?" Ah, there it was. His fingers found the errant padd and caught hold of it. He started to straighten but banged his head on the hard, wooden edge of the desk. "OW!"
"Security Captain." The voice that greeted him was not, as he'd thought it was, Kahsil or another one of his aides, but the Vulcan Healer, T'Lia.
Coming out from under the desk, Moragh's expression darkened at the sight of her. "It's done?"
Leandra looked away. Her relationship with Krang had been fiery over the years; they were both strong personalities and they clashed. The first time he had seen her, she'd been crouched over the body of his older brother, bloodstained knife in her hand. She had not killed him – Meren had been an honourable man who had done his best to help her in a bad situation. She would have done anything for him, and in fact, she had been trying to save him, but that was not how it had looked to Krang.
Even though he had long ago learned the truth, Krang had never quite got past that first impression. As for her, she'd looked up and seen a very angry and grief-stricken Klingon charging towards her and she'd had the sense to get up and run, taking Meren's antique d'k tahg with her and using it to avenge his death. Despite her criminal past, she'd become fiercely loyal to the Inigan family, and she did not want to hear the details of his death.
Rhiana was equally distressed. Amnesia still clouded her mind although the missing memories were slowly returning and making themselves known to her… and her memories of Krang had been among the first to return. She had been there when he formally adopted Kehlan and Mackenzie into the House of Inigan. She had worked with him, got to know his wife and children. Become godmother to his grandson. Had found him in that awful prison cell and risked everything to get him out. She did not think she could bear to hear that he was dead.
T'Lia's next words caught them all by surprise. "Security Captain Krang is breathing unassisted and woke momentarily a few minutes ago."