"Reflections in the Mirror" By Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, don’t make money off ‘em. Genre: Adventure/Sci-Fi - Sato, H. & Tucker, C. Description: Trip takes matters into his own hands, Hoshi gets a rude awakening, and events have taken a toll on other crew members as well. Author's Notes: Kudos to Pesterfield, for his usual editing! ;) One Trip Tucker stood at the end of the pier, hands tucked into the pockets of his windbreaker, a cool breeze from the Atlantic ruffling his hair. The reds and oranges of the sunset made a glorious backdrop in the sky above the Florida Keys. Behind him, the party on the beach was just getting started with Jimmy Buffett's “Margaritaville” blaring from the speakers. Laughter was barely heard over the crash of the surf. Trip closed his eyes and enjoyed the sounds of life. For a brief moment, he could forget the cares of the universe. He'd gotten into the habit of “checking in” with T'Pol through the bond. It was still new and they were both adjusting to its unique nuances, but Trip was grateful for it. To the outside world, it seemed he might have fallen asleep on his feet, but he was still very aware of his surroundings. He felt her pause in what she was doing and then there was a brief ripple of reassurance. “Miss ya, darlin',” he murmured, but he understood why it was crucial that no one knew of this bond. From what he'd heard and seen on Earth since his return, it was too dangerous and even Soval had urged caution. It didn't mean he liked the current arrangement, though. “Hey, I've got a bottle of beer with your name on it,” a voice said from behind him. “I know it's a little early to get drunk, but---” He chuckled and quipped, “No time like the present, right?” Trip opened his eyes and glanced at the man behind him. “You don't realize how hard it is to get a decent beer on a starship.” “I'll take your word for it.” Mark Harris returned the smile and passed him one of the brown-colored bottles. He held his beer in one hand and fished a bottle opener out of his pocket with the other. With a flourish, he opened his bottle and handed Trip the opener. “To absent friends,” Trip said and raised his beer. Harris echoed the sentiment, then touched bottles with him. Trip took a healthy swig; Harris, of course, had only brought the best. Of course. Harris gazed out over the ocean as the colors of the sunset slowly faded to a dark royal blue. “I can see why you come here, Trip. It's beautiful. You got a boat here?” “My brother takes care of it when I'm not here. It's been recently refitted, new rigs, sails, the works. Renamed it, too. Eddie griped about how he had to repaint he entire damn hull when I changed the name, but I told him it was important.” Harris raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. “What's the new name?” “She's called the Thy'la.” A small smile flitted across Trip's face, though Harris couldn't guess at the reason. “Thy'la? What kind of name is that? Sounds pretty, but it's...what? Doesn't sound like any language I'm familiar with.” “Let's just say it's a word I picked up somewhere and leave it at that.” Harris shrugged and decided not to press the issue. “You'll have to take me on board sometime, show her off. I know you miss the ocean. Space sure isn't the same thing.” “Nah, but it's close.” Trip took another pull of his beer and changed the subject. “Thanks for comin' on such short notice, Mark.” Harris shook his head. “I've been waiting for your call ever since you pulled into Spacedock. In the meantime, I read your report concerning the conspiracies on Enterprise and Columbia. Oksana Nechayev ran the information you obtained from Jarvis Pryor through Section channels and turns out most of it was right on the money.” Trip smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Jarvis Pryor, previously a crewman in Phlox's engineering department, had been a mole for Terra Prime. Pryor's tampering with Enterprise's software had crippled the ship, and similar tampering had nearly destroyed Columbia. He'd confessed his involvement after seeing the wreck that had been Earth's second Warp 5 starship. “So...Terra Prime's undermining the Earth Council.” “That's the assumption, but we need a solid case against their organization.” Harris's own expression was grim. “I've got agents in place within it, but we can't afford to move against them too soon. Paxton is too well protected. Not only does he have security and loyal followers around him all the time...we've learned that he has a copy of Morpheus.” Trip's mouth twitched upward, but that was the only reaction, and Harris's concern spiked up several notches. “Where'd he get it? I thought we destroyed the only prototype and the design plans that came with it.” “We did, but he employed the best neurologists and engineers on the planet and apparently, they were successful in reproducing a relatively working mind sifter.” Harris paused significantly, then continued, “We don't know how much he's used it, but it helps explain how he's gathered so many ardent followers in such a short time.” He snorted. “Yeah. When you can implant all sorts of ideas into someone's head, you can easily control them. Ingenious scheme, if you ask me.” Harris nodded as he took another sip of his beer. “Are you willing to join our operation?” “Are you kiddin'? I want in. Paxton and his cronies have hurt a lot of people and I want to stop 'em once and for all.” Trip stared out at the dark sky as the stars winked on overhead. “For Hoshi.” “How is she?” Trip considered his words carefully before he replied, “She's still hurtin', Mark, and she's gonna be hurtin' for a long time. She really loved him, and it ain't fair that their life together was cut short the way it was. But Hoshi's a strong woman. She'll pull through, I know it.” “If there's anything I can do---” “I think stopping Terra Prime will be a start. Once we've taken 'em down, then we can repair our friendships with the Andorians, the Vulcans, and the Tellarites. And maybe even get back to explorin' the universe, like what we were supposed to do before this mess happened.” Trip flashed a wide grin at the prospect. “I'm actually lookin' forward to doin' that.” Harris returned the smile. “Here's to the spirit of exploration. May that time come soon.” “Hear, hear.” The two men touched bottles, then drank in honor of the toast. The last glow of sunset disappeared over the water, and ushered in another clear July night. It was still afternoon in the Colorado mountains and Hoshi Sato sat on the porch swing of the cabin. Porthos lay in the bright sun, taking advantage of the warmth. She smiled at the beagle and turned her attention back to her datapad. So far, the repairs on Enterprise were running smoothly. Commander Phlox was having raptures over the new technology that was being installed in his engine room. She grinned as she imagined how Trip Tucker was going to react to the new torpedo guidance system in the armory. Despite recent events, she enjoyed the peace and quiet here. John Hayes had owned the cabin, and when he had passed away, he'd passed it on to his son, Matt. Matt, in turn, had willed it to Hoshi. She still felt her late husband's presence here, and it gave her a sense of warmth that helped chased away the cold. In the dark of the night, she hugged Matt's pillow to her and cried over her loss. It still hurt, but she felt as if he was still here, watching over her. Columbia was being rebuilt with Admiral Henry Archer's new technology, but in the meantime, Matt's former crew were being assigned to other posts. She chuckled as she brought up the transfer roster; some of them were going to be on Enterprise, and in turn, some of her crew had opted to go to the new Warp 6 ships, Challenger, Atlantis, and Intrepid. She hated to lose anyone, but the she was still proud of them. Lieutenant Commander Bryan Trace had accepted the position of Armory Officer on Atlantis, and Lieutenant Commander David Kelby was now Intrepid's chief engineer. Captain J.T. Daniels had been tapped to become Atlantis's first commanding officer. “I hear you're trying to steal some of my people, J.T.,” she'd joked earlier that week. Daniels only raised his eyebrow, Vulcan-style. “I wouldn't do that to you, Hoshi,” he deadpanned. “After all, we all are charged with saving the universe as we know it.” She laughed at the dry tone, then sobered. “That's not too far from the truth, J.T. Travis told me that Command's approached him to be the captain of Challenger. I can't think of anyone else more deserving of it, but...” “But what?” “Admiral Forrest told me Travis hasn't accepted the promotion yet. I'm wondering when he'll make his final decision.” Daniels only shrugged. “One thing I've learned in life is that you could never rush a Boomer into a decision. The corollary to that is: a Boomer never does something he doesn't want to do. Give him time and space, Hoshi. He'll make the choice that's right for him.” She sighed again and looked over at Porthos. Jon Archer was still on Vulcan as Starfleet's liaison to the new government. Hoshi suspected that the Earth Council was looking to make the position a permanent one. Lieutenant Jane Taylor, Columbia's former communications officer, handled the duties in Jon's absence. She didn't have anything personal against Taylor; she was efficient and competent, but...it didn't feel right. Hoshi couldn't define it, but that was how she felt. Porthos raised his head up and barked. Hoshi got up from the porch swing as the beagle shot to its feet. “What is it, boy? Is someone coming?” she asked him. Her sharp hearing detected a soft grinding noise and her reflexes took over. She ducked and rolled as a sharp hiss of air sliced through where her head had been. There was a thunk as metal hit wood: a tiny, poisoned dart. Porthos yelped and scrambled through the door of the cabin and she followed, slamming the door shut against a hail of darts. Feet crunched on gravel right outside the window. Hoshi dove for the plain wooden box on the bookshelf, pried it open and took out a phase pistol. Matt, bless his sweet, paranoid heart, had believed that forewarned was forearmed, literally. There was a crash against the stout oak door, which trembled in its frame. Another violent kick forced it open. Hoshi didn't bother to call out a challenge; she fired at the first shadow that barreled through. A body fell with a heavy thump, followed by a second. She took the opportunity to escape into the bedroom, where Porthos hid under a colorfully crocheted afghan. She shut and locked the door, but she knew it would only delay the attackers. “Damn, where did he put it?” she swore, as she went through the jumbled items in the low bureau next to the bed. “Matt, the one time you decided to be messy---ah, here!” Hoshi dug out an old communicator, which was now only a little more than a jumbled mass of circuitry and wires. Yet it had the steady hum of a working frequency, which was all she cared about. “Starfleet Command---” “This is Captain Hoshi Sato,” she shouted. “I need an emergency beam-out from these coordinates!” The panic in her voice seemed to galvanize the operator. There was a flurry of activity on the line, then he said, “Stand by, Captain. We're getting a lock on you---” “Hurry!” She grabbed Porthos and dragged him out from under the afghan, as the door began to smoke under a barrage of laser beams. It exploded inward, and splinters of wood rained down on the furniture. A pair of men rushed inside, phase rifles at the ready... ...but Hoshi was already gone. Elizabeth Cutler opened her eyes to darkness. The blankets shifted around her, and she shivered in the chilly air. Suddenly, a muffled voice shouted something incoherent and a pillow went flying, landing directly on her face. She sat bolt upright and threw the pillow aside, then reached for the person lying next to her. It was another nightmare. They were happening less and less, but when it happened, it was bad. “Nate? Nate, wake up!” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “You're dreaming, Nate, wake up!” Nate Kemper stared at her with wide eyes, then sanity returned to them. He exhaled sharply and raised a hand to his brow. “Damn, I'm sorry, Liz. I---” “You don't need to apologize.” She drew his trembling body into her arms. She ached for him, for Nate still blamed himself for Captain Hayes's death on Paan Mokar. He'd been Hayes's Armory Officer, and it had been his responsibility to protect the crew. Now his captain was dead, his crew scattered, and his confidence shaken to the core. How was he going to get that confidence back? “I saw him again, Liz,” he said in a muffled tone against her shoulder, “but it was different. He was trying to tell me something---” “Tell you what?” Liz kept her gentle tone; she had offered her support and would do anything to ease his pain, but Liz also knew only Nate could overcome his anger and grief. He shook his head. “I don't know. His lips were moving, but I couldn't hear the words. He was peaceful, happy even. I think he was trying to reassure me that what happened wasn't my fault---” “It isn't, Nate,” she said, more forcefully than she'd intended. “Captain Hayes knew the risks of what he was doing. If Hayes hadn't helped Shran, then his family wouldn't be together right now.” “I know.” Nate gave her a crooked grin. “My head knows the facts; it's my heart that won't accept them.” A discreet knock interrupted their conversation. Liz got up and pulled her robe around her. “Yes?” “Liz, dear, it's a call on a subspace channel,” answered Rachel Cutler, her younger sister. Unlike Liz, Rachel's voice held a hint of an Australian accent, due to her growing up in Brisbane after their parents' divorce. “It's for Major Kemper.” “Me?” Nate traded looks with Liz. “How'd they find me? I only told Commander---ah, Captain Daniels where I was going.” Three minutes later, Nate sat in front of a comm terminal in the Cutler family study. Doctor Leslie Cutler had insisted he use it. Nate couldn't help but chuckle; Liz's family had welcomed him with open arms, much to his surprise. He took a deep breath and turned the screen on. In that instant, he knew how the person had located him. “I should've known better than to try to hide from you.” Trip Tucker grinned. “Sorry, Nate, but I need your help with something big. I'm at WeTARD.” Trip referred to the Weapons and Tactical Research and Development Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida. “Can you get here as fast as you can from Australia?” Nate felt a twinge of regret, for he'd been looking forward to spending more time with Liz, but he said, “I'll be on the next shuttle flight over. Does this have to do with all the new toys the R&D boys are putting on the ships?” “Indirectly, but there's something else we gotta take care of first. Some unfinished business.” Nate raised his eyebrows. Trip had a lot of 'unfinished business'; it was just a matter of which piece of business. “I take it you're gonna tell me when I get there.” “Yeah, it's kinda delicate, and you know what kinda diplomat I am---” “Say no more. I'll be there, Trip.” “Thanks, Nate. Tucker, out.” Trip's face vanished from the screen, leaving Nate wondering just what the heck was going on. He shook his head, got up from the seat, and went to find Liz. Back to Prologue Continue to Part 2

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