Chapter 48

Council chambers, First City, Qo'noS

There was a stunned silence following Martok's words. Krang looked again at Kehlan's features, for the first time noticing the resemblance. Although softened considerably by her Terran ancestry, the ridges on Kehlan's head did indeed appear to match Martok's. Mackenzie and Portway could see it too, he noted. They both looked surprised.

Kehlan was hit by a moment of pure panic as she began to realise the implications and it was all she could do not to just turn and run. Reaching out blindly, she found Captain Mackenzie's hand and took hold of it, needing his support. Finding it offered in abundance, she turned to face the chancellor.

"Are you saying," she asked, her words slow and hesitant, "that… you might be my father?"

"I spent some time on Earth when I was a young man," Martok admitted. "Yes, it's entirely possible that I am your father."

Kehlan turned away. This was a little too much for her to handle at once. Five minutes ago, she had been a Houseless nobody, but then Krang had publicly claimed responsibility for her and offered her a place in his House. It had not occurred to her that his invitation to Mackenzie would extend to her as well – it should have done, but she hadn't had the opportunity to sit down and think about it. When she married Mackenzie, she would be the sister-in-law of the Inigan Line Lord. And if that were not enough of a shock, it now appeared that the head of the entire Empire might be her father.

"We'll have to have blood tests done to be sure," Martok said. "I would prefer that this be kept private for now. Admiral Portway… He sent her an enquiring look. "Would you arrange for one of your Starfleet physicians to do it?"

"Yes, of course," the admiral responded at once. "I'll have the embassy doctor come over and do the tests."

"No!" Everyone present turned to face Kehlan in surprise as she repeated her refusal. "No. I do not want to have these blood tests and I will not comply."

Martok made a low growling sound in the back of his throat as he heard her refusal, but it was the Terran admiral who spoke first. "Commander Kehlan, it's extremely important that we get to the truth of the matter."

"This is a private matter, and my reasons are personal," Kehlan insisted. "Neither Starfleet nor the Defence Force have any right to make me have these tests done."

"If you are indeed my daughter, then you are a member of my House and I am responsible for you," Martok said carefully, sensing that he was treading on dangerous ground. "I am not ordering you as Chancellor, I am asking you as a man who may be your father."

"It's too late," Kehlan said, her anger spilling over. "I don't need you now. If you are my father, then where were you when my mother died? Where were you when I was growing up in House Gensa, when no one would adopt me because I was a nameless half-breed?"

"House Gensa?" Captain Mackenzie quietly asked his Klingon friend; he had heard that name before but did not understand the reference.

"It's one of the state orphanages." Krang responded in a low voice. "It's where they send the children that nobody wants."

"I cannot change the past, Kehlan," Martok said, sadness evident in his voice. "Had I known of your birth, I swear I would have taken responsibility for you."

"I don't even know my mother's name." Kehlan told him bitterly. "I was just three years old when they found her body. She'd been killed with an assassin's knife, and whoever killed her, took her ID. When they put me in House Gensa, I couldn't even speak Klingon."

"Her name was Marilyn," Martok said slowly. "Lieutenant Marilyn Bradfield. She was part of the security team at the Klingon embassy in Paris. We had a brief affair just before I returned to Qo'noS."

Kehlan hesitated. If Martok was correct, then he had just given her a great gift – the truth of her identity. She raised her eyes to his, looking at him. "Very well," she conceded reluctantly. "I will permit the blood tests."

"Thank you," Martok said, giving a nod of satisfaction. "If the results are positive, as I believe they must be, then I will arrange for you to be formally acknowledged as my daughter."

"The results should be kept private," Kehlan said, a stubborn note entering her voice. On this one thing she was determined not to compromise. "After Gowron, I believe that your becoming chancellor is the best thing that could happen to the Empire. The last thing you need now is an illegitimate, half tera'ngan child turning up."

It was Martok's turn to be stubborn. "It would be dishonourable of me not to acknowledge you."

"It would be more dishonourable to allow my existence to endanger what you've achieved," Kehlan insisted. "The Empire needs you to unite it, not tear it further apart."

"Kehlan is right," Krang said suddenly. "This revelation will cause division in the High Council. "As a common man who has risen to greatness, you must have realised that the great Houses see you as a threat. You have no choice but to put the welfare of the Empire first and you cannot do that if your council unite against you." That was something Krang knew for certain.

His mind slipped back through the years. Sturka had been the chancellor then, a good man, but ultimately weak. Had that one been able to better control his council, the events that had led to Krang's treason and exile would never have happened. "No, Martok, you cannot acknowledge your daughter at this time."

Martok gave a frustrated snarl, his hand clenching on the handle of his knife, but while his heart protested, his mind knew that they were right. He had more than just himself to think about now. And the truth was, he had been dreading having to tell Sirella about this, even though it had all happened long before his marriage, before he'd even met Sirella. He had never cheated on his wife – had never even wanted to, and her temper was such that he was not sure he would have dared. Despite that, he did not think she would understand.

It had been a crisis at the embassy that had brought him and the human woman together, a terrorist attack which neither of them had expected to survive. He had not been in love with her, nor had she loved him, but she had fought well and earned his respect and admiration. He'd thought of her often over the years, imagining what her life might be like. She would settle down with a worthy man and raise a family, and maybe she would think of him occasionally. That she would bear his child and come looking for him had never occurred to him. He was truly sorry to learn of her untimely death. She'd deserved better than that.

"Then it will remain secret for now," the chancellor conceded with obvious reluctance. "We can decide what to do later when we have the test results."

"Thank you, Chancellor," Kehlan said, relieved at his capitulation. For a horrible moment, she'd thought he would not see sense.

"Well, I'm glad that's settled," Admiral Portway, said, as relieved as Kehlan for very similar reasons. "Does anyone have anything else they wish to discuss?"

"There is just one other thing. It occurs to me, Captain Krang, that you have never been inducted into the Order of the Bat'leth," Martok said, the change of topic catching Krang by surprise. "I intend to rectify that at the next possible opportunity."

"I am not worthy of such honour," Krang said in disbelief.

"I disagree," Martok said, perking up now that he had control of the conversation. "And since I am chancellor, the decision is mine. I think you are worthy, and the High Council is in agreement with me. To honour you as you deserve will do much to boost the morale of the people. Therefore, you will present yourself at Ty'Gokor for the next ceremony. You'll be informed of the date in due course."

"Yes, Chancellor." There was no other answer Krang could give, and he could only hope that Martok would eventually forget about it. If Krang had a weakness, it was that he did not do well with large amounts of alcohol, and the idea of going to Ty'Gokor and publicly drinking himself silly just to be given a medal was enough to make him shudder.

"You have served honourably, Commander Krang. Your wife must be very proud of you," Martok said. "I'm sure she'll be glad to have you home for a few days."

Krang's expression darkened at this. "My wife is dead," he said starkly, and for the first time, his control slipped, laying out his agony for all to see. "She died in the attack on Frontera."

Martok frowned. "But…"

"Krang, she's…" Kehlan started to say at the same time.

They were both interrupted by Admiral Portway. "I'll handle this," she said, sending an apologetic look to the chancellor. Outwardly calm, internally the admiral was horrified. She had misjudged him, thinking that he had wilfully chosen not to reply – which he had, of course. If she had realised that the corrected casualty reports had not reached him, she would have taken him aside as soon as he'd returned to Qo'noS and given him the news privately.

She moved forward, putting her hand on his arm. "I am aware that you've received no messages from Starfleet over the last few weeks. We did try very hard to contact you during that time, but you were unfortunately out of communications range."

When Krang acknowledged this, she continued, "The attack on Frontera was massive; we lost thousands of lives, and many more people were injured. The starbase took heavy damage and the city was almost completely destroyed, including the area where you lived."

"I already know all that," Krang said harshly, not wanting to hear this. It was still too raw, the pain too fresh for him to deal with. "I do not wish to discuss it." Not really aware of what he was doing, he unsheathed his d'k tahg, running his hand along the blade as though testing it.

"Let me finish, Krang," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You have no idea just how much chaos there was afterwards. A lot of mistakes were made cataloguing the dead and injured. Krang, I'm trying to tell you that your family survived. In fact, they are right here on Qo'noS."

Alive? Krang froze, his hand tightening uncontrollably on the blade until it cut into him, sending a rivulet of purple blood trickling to the floor. "They're alive?" The sudden pain in his hand helped him to focus and he looked up. "You're saying that Chrissie and the children survived the massacre?"

He was afraid now, in a way that he had never been afraid before, terrified that he would awaken to find that this was just another cruel nightmare and that he was still alone.

"You're not dreaming this time," Captain Mackenzie said quietly, sensing what his friend was thinking. Krang had eventually confided in him, so he knew about the visions that had plagued his Klingon friend night after night until he'd sought T'Lia's help. He put his hand on his own knife and unsheathed it, knowing that in a moment Krang's fear and uncertainty would turn to explosive anger.

Martok too had sensed it and stepped forward, but Captain Mackenzie waved him back. "This is my fight. He is my brother." He did not bother to state the obvious. If the worst came to the worst, a dead Starfleet officer was one thing, but a dead chancellor would be… awkward to say the least.

Krang stared at them, unseeing. "It's been four weeks since the fleet caught up with us and no one said anything!" His voice rose in volume to something approaching a roar. "Why didn't you tell me? You let me go on thinking they were dead!"

Mackenzie knew what was needed. As Krang's temper finally snapped, the Terran captain took a deep breath and got between him and their superiors, knife at the ready. He had never beaten Krang in a knife fight, but he knew instinctively that this time he could not afford to lose. The best tactic, he realised, was to simply keep fighting and defend himself until his friend had got the anger out of his system, calmed down, and realised that he didn't actually want to kill anyone. In the meantime, he was going to have to concentrate on staying alive. The Klingon was enraged enough to kill anyone who came near him, and if he did, he would regret it later.

The knives collided, with a clash of metal against metal. Krang thrust forward and the Terran parried, forcing him back and then pressing home his own attack. Krang twisted his blade and countered, the sheer ferocity of his attack forcing Captain Mackenzie to give ground. Their weapons clashed again, blades tangling together, then the Klingon's blade slid away from his and caught him on the arm. Unlike the heavy leather and metal armour the Klingon wore, his Starfleet uniform gave him no protection and Captain Mackenzie swore at the sudden stinging sensation. He was aware of the blood staining his sleeve and of the treacherous weakness beginning in his arm. Renewing his attack, he began to force Krang to move back. In the end it was the very savagery of the Klingon's anger, bordering on madness, that was his undoing. As Krang raised his weapon high to strike again, Mackenzie recognised the form as the beginnings of the banned Yi'Su qesH manoeuvre that Krang had taught them.

"That's considered an illegal move," Kargan had protested. "There's no way of countering it."

"Illegal in competitions, maybe, but in battle, you cannot expect your enemies to use legal moves. Now, go ahead and try it."

The sequence was designed for the bat'leth, but Mackenzie thought that, slightly adapted, it might work with the d'k tahg as well. Certainly, he had nothing to lose by trying it. With a quick twist sideways that would leave him dangerously exposed if he made a mistake or was too slow, he struck, down and across, straight under Krang's guard, his d'k tahg cutting through the leather of his armour and into skin and flesh.

Krang jerked back with a gasp of pain, the motion causing one of the side blades to catch on the thick leather belt, ripping the d'k tahg out of Mackenzie's hand and leaving its side blade partially embedded in the Klingon's abdomen. Krang dropped his blade and as the knife clattered to the floor, his anger and blood lust died away, and sanity returned. For a long moment he stared at Captain Mackenzie in shocked surprise. "Kahless! I could have killed you."

"If that's the case," the Terran queried sarcastically, "why are you the one with the knife stuck in his gut?"

"Oh!" Krang looked down, as though only now becoming aware of the wound, and taking hold of the knife's hilt, he pulled it free, grunting with pain as the blade slid free of his flesh. He had been lucky, partly because his belt buckle had deflected the angle of the blow just enough to prevent it from completely gutting him… and secondly, because Mackenzie had not been actively trying to kill him. Wiping the blade clean on his uniform sleeve, he handed it back to Captain Mackenzie.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kehlan released the death grip she'd had on Admiral Portway's arm in an effort to stop the shocked Terran from interfering. Martok of course had known better than to interfere, simply taking a couple of steps back to give the fighters some space and enjoying the unexpected entertainment.

"Why did no one tell me?" Krang asked hoarsely. "All this time, I thought she was dead. Why wasn't I told?"