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"Reflections in the Mirror" Rating: PG-13 Author's Notes: Please leave a review! Thanks! Thanks, Pesterfield. ;) Four Hoshi sighed and ran a hand through her long, black hair. T'Les had sent her the latest reports from the Vulcan archaeological digs on Beta Polaris and she was astounded at the amount of data T'Les had already collected. She traced the Pre-Old Vulcan characters on her datapad. Now that the scientists had found more samples of the Colonists' writing, she could assist the Vulcan linguists in reconstructing the missing information. It was challenging work, with plenty of leads stopping at dead ends. She didn't mind; at the very least it kept her mind occupied. At least for a little while, she mused. This studio apartment was in the heart of San Francisco, but was a hidden gem in plain sight. It provided the comforts of home, but was also protected by a state-of-the-art security system. Trip had set it up himself, and had personally assigned the guards to watch over her. Hoshi knew a few of them, but others she'd only recently met. Like Lieutenant Commander Oksana Nechayev. The young Russian woman stood at the stove in the kitchen, humming a folk tune under her breath as she stirred the spaghetti sauce. Trip described Oksana as a “mother hen”, someone who made sure you were well-fed and well-taken care of. Hoshi got along with her well, though there were times when she gave Hoshi some odd sideways looks. “Dinner is almost ready,” Oksana called in Russian. “I'll set the table,” Hoshi replied. She saved her work on the computer, then went to the cabinet to bring out the plates and silverware. Oksana brought the food, and both women ate in silence for a while. Then Hoshi asked, “Oksana, how long did you know my husband?” She smiled, as if she'd only been waiting for Hoshi to ask the question. “Fifteen years, and we fought like cats and dogs the entire time. Matthew was impassioned about his work...I just wanted to make sure he survived in one piece.” Oksana put her empty plate aside and continued, “In fact, I remember the time he and I were on a rescue mission in the Ural Mountains and he fretted the entire time. You wouldn't have known it by looking at him, though...” The two women sat up late that night, talking about Matt. Hoshi was glad to hear about him from another person who'd worked with him. There was so much she hadn't known about Matt's early years in Security; now she understood better why he'd been so reluctant to tell her about them. “I doubt he wanted to mislead you on purpose,” Oksana told her bluntly. “It is an occupational hazard, I'm afraid. We aren't allowed to give specific details about certain missions we've been on. It's for everyone's safety, including Earth's.” Hoshi nodded; the odd little incidents during their relationship began to make more sense. Then she asked the question that she never dared to ask Matt: “You all were part of some kind of counter-intelligence group, weren't you? You, Matt, Trip, Nate, Mark Harris. Like the old CIA or MI6.” Oksana's expression turned rueful. “I wouldn't describe us as quite that noble. Depending on whom you asked, they might have compared us to the old KGB instead.” The Russian hesitated for a moment, then came to a decision. She leaned forward on her elbows and lowered her voice. “There's a section in the Earth Charter: Article Fourteen, Section Thirty-One. Are you familiar with it?” Hoshi frowned as she tried to remember. “It must have been a very short section because I think I've always missed it. What does it say?” “That Security may take any means necessary to ensure the survival of Earth and its citizens.” Hoshi gazed at her; Oksana only met the stare evenly. “Any means necessary.” “That's correct.” The implications were staggering. Hoshi thought, That probably includes all the things that normal Starfleet Security won't touch. Sabotage, assassination...Her husband had been involved in that kind of business? And not only Matt, but Trip and Nate as well? The realization gave her a icy feeling in the pit of her stomach and in her chest. She had had no idea; her Armory Officer never showed any inclination to do anything like that, although Trip certainly was capable of it. Trip's an assassin? Hoshi sat back in her chair, stunned, as she tried to reconcile Oksana's admission with what she knew of one of her closest friends. My God. I never even suspected. He must be one hell of an actor. And fast on the heels of that thought came another: Why the hell didn't he tell me? And how did he get involved with this group in the first place? He and Matt. Did Matt actually recruit him? All she had were questions and more questions, and she got angrier and angrier. Of course, neither Trip nor Matt could have told her, and she knew that her rage was directed at Trip because Matt wasn't around to face the brunt of it. How could she have been so blind? Oksana watched the conflicting emotions on her face. “Trip Tucker didn't join on purpose. He...stumbled into it, but once he realized the stakes, he was willing to help. And you must know one thing: he has never taken the life of another on purpose. That was one condition he placed on his membership. He has never been an assassin.” On purpose. That meant Trip only did it in self-defense, when there was no other alternative. Hoshi had seen that before, but for some reason, Oksana's words didn't reassure her. “Matt, on the other hand----” Oksana hesitated again, and Hoshi read a lot in that hesitation. “He was an extraordinary marksman, the best I'd ever seen. I think, though, that those particular assignments affected him more than was obvious.” Hoshi got up abruptly from the table and moved to the window. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly as she tried to assimilate what she'd just learned about the man she had loved. Her brain knew that he could have done such things, but her heart simply refused to believe it. “Why are you telling me this now?” The other woman's tone was still quiet, but Hoshi heard the steel within it. “Because you have a right to know. And Harris believes---as I do---that Matthew's old enemies are behind the attempt on your life. Unlike some of my colleagues, I believe that forewarned is forearmed. It is difficult to defend against shadows in the dark, unless you know who those shadows are.” “Are you putting yourself in danger by telling me?” “As Matthew would have said, 'Risk is our business'.” Hoshi chuckled without humor. “Yes, he would have.” She straightened and looked at Oksana over her shoulder. “I want you to tell me everything about these enemies, Oksana. Everything, and don't leave out any details.” She inclined her head back toward Hoshi's seat at the table. “Then you might as well make yourself comfortable, and I'll make us some coffee. This will take a while.” “It'll take as long as it'll take.” Hoshi returned to her seat as Oksana went into the kitchen and busied herself with the coffee. This will be a long night, Hoshi thought. A very long night. But I'll demand to know everything, even if it takes all night. “Trip. I think you'd better take a look at this.” “What is it?” Trip looked up from the comlink. Harris's agents within Paxton's organization were getting into position to strike, and he was keeping tabs on their progress. He went over to Nate's side. “Whatcha got?” “Since when has Paxton been so interested in Tate Modern, the museum in London?” “He's an avid art collector, Nate.” He narrowed his eyes at the schedule. “Two weeks? I don't think he's ever stayed in one place that long. Looks like the museum's the center of a major festival this year.” “They've listed the festival's board of directors. That last name sound familiar?” Trip scowled at it: Miss Madeline Reed, curator. “Malcolm's younger sister. Wait a minute, didn't Richardson say somethin' about her showin' Paxton around the place, and her acceptin' some kind of major donation from Paxton's business?” Nate nodded slowly. “Yeah. It looks like Paxton's doing his usual schmoozing. If Richardson's right, then I'd say he's trying to recruit the Doc's sister into his organization.” “Damn. If Malcolm knew about it, he'd have a cow, hooves and all.” Trip rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I've never met Maddie, but her brother talks about her a lot. I get the impression she's one smart cookie and not one to suffer fools gladly.” “Think she's aware of Paxton's schemes?” “Maybe, though I doubt she knows how dangerous he is.” Trip read the summary of the festival's events and added, “Two days from now.” “We can't go there, Trip; we're supposed to be protecting Hoshi here in San Francisco.” “Even if we can't, I know of a few people who can.” Trip sighed and ran a hand through her hair. He tried to imagine how he'd react if it was Lizzie in danger and decided not to go there. “I think I'll give the Doc a call, just to give him a heads up on what's goin' on. In the meantime---” “Yeah, I'll let Harris know.” Nate gave Trip a look of reassurance. “Don't worry, Trip. We'll get him.” “Damn straight, and sooner rather than later.” He tapped his comlink and put in Malcolm's comcode. “I assure you, Doctor Reed, that our equipment is state-of-the-art, and our technicians highly trained.” Doctor John Muir seemed calm enough, but Malcolm saw the nervousness in his eyes. It was odd to see it; Muir was twenty years older than Malcolm, and a noted expert in biology. Yet the nervousness didn't come from a lack of professional confidence. Malcolm raised a hand to reassure him. “I see you've assembled the finest minds in the field, John, make no doubt of that. I'm eager to see what kind of work your teams are doing. I'm sure you and Danica are making great progress.” Doctor Danica Erickson beamed in pride as she escorted the men into the secured area of Kelverin Scientific Labs. KSL was one of the best biotechnology laboratories on Earth, based in Seattle, Washington. Danica had just been promoted to a top administrative spot in the company and wasted no time in using her influence to improve KSL's already illustrious reputation. “I hope this'll convince you to join our team, Malcolm. I've always thought your talents were wasted on a starship.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Now, now, my dear. Enterprise's original mission was to 'seek out new life and new civilizations'. It wasn't Captain Sato's fault that mission became mired in political turmoil.” He gave an ironic chuckle. “Frankly, I look forward to the day when that becomes reality.” Danica nodded; her face was neutral, but her eyes betrayed her eagerness. “But in the meantime---” “In the meantime, I intend to catch up with all my professional colleagues---and friends---whom I haven't seen in ages.” That was understating things. Malcolm hadn't seen Danica Erickson in nearly eight years, since her father's funeral. She and her father Emory hadn't gotten along since the death of Quinn, Danica's brother, in a transporter accident. Emory had died not long afterward; now Danica was the sole surviving member of her family. The three entered one of KSL's labs and two of the scientists glanced up from their work. One of them was a Denobulan female: reddish-blonde hair framing an open, heart-shaped face and sparkling aqua eyes. Malcolm recognized her immediately, but she spoke before he did. “Doctor Reed! My husband's told me quite a lot about you!” She stepped forward and grasped his hand in welcome. “It's an honor to meet you at last. I'm Feezal Phlox.” Malcolm chuckled at her enthusiasm and gave Danica a sideways look. “It seems my reputation precedes me.” “Indeed. I've read your latest research in the Vulcan Medical Academy journal, and I'd be curious to know how you came to some of your conclusions. Phlox told me that shipment of electron microscopes proved very helpful in the latest tests.” He matched her wide grin. “Yes, and I must thank you for sending them, for they worked better than we hoped. I recommended that they be standard equipment in the Sickbays of the new ships.” Feezal's smile grew to unnatural proportions. “Thank you! You're so kind!” Danica cleared her throat. “John and I have a meeting to go to, so I'll let Feezal continue your tour, Malcolm. See you at lunch?” “Of course, Danica. See you then.” After they had left, Malcolm turned back toward Feezal and asked her, “So, how have they been treating you, my dear? Well, I hope.” She shrugged. “Well enough. Danica and John are generous in their allowing me to pursue my own projects. Danica, in particular, is eager to help with my research. The Ir'thial has always been an annoyance to us Denobulans since the beginning of time. It would be nice to find a cure for it.” “The Denobulan Medical Academy wants you to find a cure for your equivalent of the common cold?” Malcolm asked with a laugh. “That would be a breakthrough, now, wouldn't it?” She gave him a mock stern look. “If Humans ever caught it, you'd wish it was your version of the 'common cold',” she admonished him. “It wouldn't kill you, but you'd wish it did. The virus tends to modify itself slightly from person to person, so the symptoms vary a little. Here, take a look.” Feezal brought up a three-dimensional diagram of the Ir'thial virus and pointed out the various elements of its genetic structure. She zeroed in on a certain section of the DNA strand and color-coded the parts that made it a challenge to eradicate. Malcolm nodded and stroked his goatee in a contemplative manner as he listened. “No wonder it's such a bother. At least enough of it stays the same, so you can make an accurate diagnosis.” “Yes. I can't imagine what would happen if it transformed itself completely from person to person.” Feezal sighed in relief and tapped the image. “See how these biochemicals interact with each other? It's like an on/off switch...otherwise, the whole cell structure would change, not just this certain area.” Malcolm gazed at it and thought hard. “Have you isolated the switches, so to speak?” “I think so...here, here, here, and here.” She highlighted the pertinent details. “I'm not sure exactly how it works, whether it just activates at a pre-determined time or something else starts it.” “If you could control that, you can stop it from mutating and use one standard procedure to wipe out the virus.” He thought back to the genetically engineered virus, made to affect certain Vulcan bloodlines. Of course, those families included V'Lar's, Soval's and T'Les's. In turn, that meant T'Pol was also at risk. Feezal's research could yield an important key to eradicating this danger. “That's the goal.” Feezal sounded pleased that he grasped the concept so quickly. “I know that biogenetics isn't exactly your specialty, but I'd like you to look over my work. If my suppositions are true, it could change how we treat Ir'thial and your cold virus, and we could even apply it to other viral diseases as well.” “Like Pa'nar Syndrome,” Malcolm said, his tone thoughtful. “A nasty affliction, for sure.” “Yes, and I'm sure the Vulcans would be relieved to find a cure for that.” Feezal's sideways glance told Malcolm what she didn't dare say aloud: that her husband Phlox kept her updated on what went on aboard Enterprise, and that she was risking a lot in working for Danica Erickson. Danica wasn't fond of non-Humans to begin with, and Malcolm knew that only Feezal's expertise ensured Feezal a place in her research lab. He hoped she would continue to be discreet. Malcolm did like Phlox's wife as a friend, after all, though there was a time when he suspected she'd wanted more than that. Now, they were still friends...and perhaps co-conspirators as well. “Well, I suppose you'd like to see the rest of the facility, if you're actually serious about working here for Doctor Erickson,” Feezal said casually, “and since the doctor's stuck in that meeting, I guess I'll have to show you around, hmmm?” She beamed as she turned off her screen. “Well, come along.” “Yes, Sa'naari,” he replied, using the Denobulan word for 'mother'. She laughed, for that particular endearment implied 'a mother fussing over her beloved cubs”. Feezal motioned him to precede her out the door, her wide grin genuine this time. |
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