The Inigan household, Frontera City
When the junior school her little ones attended had announced a teacher training day, Chrissie had been understandably annoyed, the lack of notice forcing her to scramble to find someone to take over her duties in the arboretum so she could stay home with the children. For a Starfleet facility it wasn't really good enough, and what parents in more essential roles than hers were supposed to do, she had no idea.
Now she was thankful for that, inconvenient as it had seemed at the time. It was hard enough knowing that her older two were out there somewhere. Their school was a Starfleet one and it was bound to be a target, if only by reason of its location in the Starfleet district of the city. She was terrified for their safety and didn't think she could have borne the worry for her little ones as well.
The day had begun innocently enough. After a lunch that was all the messier for her girls having decided to 'help' her, Meren had settled down at the table with an educational colouring book designed to teach the alphabet and was carefully colouring the letter M with a red crayon, his favourite colour. "It stands for Meren," he told her solemnly, "and for mek'leth." Seeing her expression, he'd given her that beautifully engaging smile and added, "but the most important M is for mama." That boy was a charmer, Chrissie thought, and he was almost certainly going to be a politician one day.
It had been sunny earlier, but the sun had long since disappeared behind a thick layer of ominous black clouds. So far it was not raining, but a couple of times Chrissie thought she could hear thunder rumbling in the distance.
Deciding to do some baking, she bustled around the kitchen, getting out everything she needed. Not chocolate brownies this time, she decided, maybe a nice Victoria sponge. Busy with her tasks, it was only when she poured some flour into the container she'd placed on the weighing scales and bent to read the measurements that she realised how dark it had got. There was definitely a storm coming, she thought, turning on the lights, checking the quantity and then adding the flour to the butter and sugar.
"Mum…" Pausing whatever game she'd been playing with her sister, Kara had been standing looking out the window, and she turned to her mother with an oddly pensive look on her face.
"Yes, Kara? Pass me a spatula, please. I forgot to get it out and I don't want to get flour in the utensil drawer."
Obediently, Kara went to the drawer, retrieved the required utensil and passed it to her mother.
"Thank you, darling. Now… what were you going to tell me before I interrupted you?"
"It's…" the child hesitated, looking worried. "The sky is all dark and weird. I don't like it."
"I think we're going to have a storm," Chrissie said, "Your brother and sister are going to get wet when they come home."
Kara shook her head. "I don't think it's a storm. Mama, come and look. The clouds look like they're boiling and…"
Boiling. Chrissie froze as her mind slipped back through the years to a time she never wanted to remember but would never forget.
Antonio had been four, and Fina only two, the pair of them off on a trip to the zoo with their grandmother. Chrissie had been watching an old movie with a friend – ironically, the original 1953 version of War of the Worlds. There had been rumbles of thunder and the ground had trembled. Worried, she'd gone outside and immediately wished she hadn't. The sound of explosions and the popping of gunfire was clearly audible, and the clouds were boiling as vicious, emerald-green streaks of… something... lanced down through the atmosphere, striking the centre of the city with deadly precision.
Boiling. It could not be happening again. It wasn't possible, except, somehow, it was. Not the Klingons this time, they were allies now. Something worse was coming. There was no doubt in her mind that the attackers were Jem'Hadar, and they were here not to invade but to kill.
Thunder rumbled again, followed by the sound of an explosion. It was still far away but closer than before. Fighting down the panic as best she could, Chrissie's mind raced as she tried to decide what to do for the best. Turning off the oven and the overhead lights, Chrissie gathered her children together – two of them were already in the kitchen, and Kally came running as soon as she was called. Reminding them that they were Klingon and must be brave warriors just like their Vavoy, she'd taken then downstairs into the cellar. It was not a proper shelter, but it did have a reinforced ceiling and door and it was the best option available to her.
She looked around her. Secure as it was, the cellar did not feel safe enough. The cupboard. It was huge and they would easily fit inside. Neither girl argued, helping her to get Meren inside that large cloth duffel bag, one of their father's spare kitbags. That was Kara's idea. It would muffle the sounds outside, her daughter told her solemnly, and stop him being scared.
It was lucky, she mused, that her youngest child was not even slightly claustrophobic and seemed to like it in the bag. The last time the kids had played hide and seek, he'd climbed into it, settled down and fallen asleep, and when the girls had finally given up and come looking for her to tell her they'd lost their brother, it had taken nearly an hour of frantic searching before a faint snore had alerted her to his location. Even luckier that after the hide-and-seek incident, she'd shoved the bag in the cellar out of the way.
The girls tucked in safely on either side of him, Chrissie hurriedly put back everything that had been in there, mostly blankets, piling them a little haphazardly around and on top of the kids. Bending to kiss them, Meren through the cloth, she admonished them to not make a sound and not come out no matter what happened, until either she or someone they knew and trusted came for them.
They would be fine, she told herself. They were already making a game of it, pretending it was a secret fort, and she heard Kara whispering to Meren, telling him he was a prince escaping from their House's enemies.
Closing the cupboard door, she placed other random items in front of it – some chairs, a couple of baskets full of who knew what, anything to make it look undisturbed and untouched. Satisfied that she had hidden them to the best of her ability, she ran upstairs to get some supplies. Entering the kitchen, she rushed around the room, throwing food and other essential items into a carryall, at the same time wondering what to do about the older children. Should she go and look for them? But how could she leave the little ones, and would she even be able to find them?
Another explosion, this one a lot closer, rocked the house hard enough that if she hadn't grabbed hold of the kitchen table, she would have fallen. She could hear shuttles, or maybe they were fighters, flying over the house. They were moving fast, and she could not tell if they were friend or foe, but she thought probably foe.
A sudden commotion at the entrance to the house made her jump. Her heart pounding so loud and hard she thought it might jump out of her chest, she hefted the phaser she'd just taken from the weapons cabinet and waited.
Miraculously, it was not the Jem'Hadar but her older children. Almost crying with relief she shoved her phaser back in her pocket and reached for them, wanting to hug them and hold them tight, and reassure herself that they really were all right. "Oh thank God you're safe! You need to hurry and get downstairs!"
Oblivious to her need for an embrace, Antonio went right past her into his father's office. The door, usually kept closed and locked when Vavoy was not there, was open. Chrissie had already been in there to get weapons as evidenced by the phaser in her hand, and he was pleased to see a replacement power cell sticking out of her pocket. That was good. Panicked she might be, but she was doing all the right things. Retrieving the bat'leth his father had given him only a few days ago, he turned his attention to the weapons cabinet. Helping himself to a pair of disruptors, he tucked one in the small of his back, and although he couldn't envision having time to switch power cells, he took some of those as well.
Somewhere on their street, or maybe the next one, a dog barked before being abruptly silenced, and then something exploded with a loud bang, causing the windows to rattle, although thankfully the glass did not break. Beside herself with panic, and desperate to make her son obey her, Chrissie's voice was shrill as she shouted at him to put those things down, or take them with him if he really must, and get into the cellar.
"No, Mama; I'm not doing that. Someone has to stay up here."
His tone surprised her. It was not that of a child. Instead, he sounded like a man, a warrior about to go into battle… mature, confident, and sure of what he needed to do. He was barely thirteen, her mind protested; he should not have to grow up like this. "Antonio…"
"Take Fina and get down there, please. Vavoy told me to look after everyone and that's what I am going to do. Fina..." Drawing his sister closer, he handed her one of the disruptors and whispered in her ear that she needed to take care of mum and the kids.
Fina accepted the weapon with minimal fuss, checking it in the way Vavoy had shown her to make sure it was fully powered. Her father said she was a good shot, and she knew it was true. If she aimed at it, she would hit it.
"Antonio Ignacio!" Terrified for his safety and determined to make him obey, Chrissie almost screamed his name. "We have to go now. Do as I say! ¡Ahora mismo!"
Putting his hands on her shoulders Antonio turned her around and pushed her firmly towards the cellar door. While he had not reached his full height, he was already bigger and stronger than his mother and she could not withstand him.
"Mama, I'm not a child! This is what Vavoy trained me for. I can make a difference and give you and the kids a better chance."
"For God's sake, Antonio!" His mother was crying now, trying, not very successfully, to hide her tears. "You'll be killed!"
Holding the antique bat'leth in his right hand, he embraced his mother tightly with the other arm. "Quite likely," he said with surprising calm, laser-focussed on getting his mother and sister to some approximation of safety. Another part of his mind was busy trying to remember every scrap of information his father and instructors had ever given about using the weapon in self defence, all the dirty tricks and subterfuges he'd been taught, although he thought it more likely that the Jem'Hadar would just shoot him as they came through the door.
Fina too was crying but trying to hide it and act like a grown up. Klingon through and through, if only by nurture rather than blood, she understood better than their mother why her brother must take up a defensive position to give them a chance. He would not shame his House; she knew it with a strange surety. Antonio was good with the bat'leth, if he could only get close enough to one of the monsters to engage in battle.
Hugging her brother one last time, Fina reached up and kissed him on the cheek. She knew what was expected of a Klingon woman. Determined not to shame her father by breaking down and showing cowardice, she spoke the ritual words, whispering so their mother could not hear. "Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam. It's a good day to die!"
Antonio nodded, his expression grim. "I don't need to tell you what to do." He kept his voice as quiet as hers as he added, "Don't come out unless you're sure it's safe, and whatever happens, don't let them take you alive!"
She understood. The urge to scream was overwhelming. Her lips quivered, and she was trembling, nearly overcome by the realisation she would probably never see her brother again. "Qapla', brother. Fight well. I love you."
Captain's quarters, IKC Hegh'Ta
Late night, Monday 24th February 2375
Cursing under his breath, Krang stretched himself out on the hard metal slab that Klingons euphemistically called a bed. Whilst it had Kay'vin's mattress on it, there was still almost no give, and right now, Krangs aching muscles were informing him very loudly and with great displeasure, that it was a hard metal slab.
The Terran captain had turned out to be a worthy opponent and the two men had spent most of the afternoon in the holodeck. They'd spent the first hour or so going over the basics of the katana. Mackenzie had insisted that he learn the correct way of drawing and sheathing the sword before he would allow him to actually use it, and he'd also recounted some of the history behind the weapon.
After a short break, the roles had been reversed and it had been Krang's turn to play instructor, refining and honing the Terran captain's skills with Klingon weaponry. Captain Mackenzie really did know how to fight properly, although he'd quickly conceded Krang's point about the quality of his mek'leth.
The one-hour session Mackenzie had reserved in the holodeck had expired all too quickly and since no one had booked for the following hour, they'd made use of that as well, and the one after that although he'd had to bribe his chief engineer to swap that session for a later one. What the terms of the bribe had been, Krang was not entirely sure, but it had included something called Auchentoshan. Whatever that was – and it was whisky, he learned eventually, and not just any whisky but a very good-quality single-malt Scotch – Argyle had gone away happily, and after stopping for a quick toilet break and something to drink, they'd continued their sparring match.
In the end, they had spent the whole of the afternoon in the holodeck and had swapped weapons several times. The katana appeared slender and fragile next to the bulkier, heavier bat'leth but in the hands of an experienced user, it had proved to be a match for Krang's weapons, and he had enjoyed the opportunity to wield it.
All in all, Krang, thought, it had been a particularly strenuous and very satisfying session. Each of them had learned from the encounter and they were looking forward to the next match.
Kay'vin hadn't been so far wrong, he reflected ruefully. Despite his best efforts he had grown soft, a possibly inevitable result of the softness and ease of Federation life. He smiled, imagining his tera'ngan wife's reaction if she were asked to sleep on a metal slab each night instead of the comfortable bed they shared. And if he were honest, he had come to enjoy that comfort.
It had been two weeks since he had taken over the captaincy of the IKC Hegh'Ta, although it felt like much longer, and it was good to be living as a Klingon again – to wear the Klingon uniform (even if it was military grey and not the black of Imperial Intelligence), to live among Klingon warriors, to eat Klingon food – and especially to go into glorious battle against the enemies of the Empire. The Defence Force might not be the branch of the service he was familiar with, but still… he was amongst his own people. Finally, he felt, he was back where he belonged.
Shocked, he sat bolt upright, wondering where that treacherous thought had come from. It had not initially been his choice to leave the Empire and serve with the Federation, but it had been his decision to remain there. And he had a wife and children, whom he loved deeply. He could not even begin to imagine living without them. So why was he feeling like this? Annoyed with himself, he stretched out again and attempted to sleep.