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"Reflections in the Mirror" Rating: PG-13 Author's Notes: A few replies: DinahD: Yeah, Trip isn't an assassin. Even if he's S31 in this AU, I don't think he'd be able to take someone else's life on purpose. BnB: Yup. Begoogled: Nope, this is Oksana Nechayev's first appearance in this series, but she's a direct relation to Admiral Alynna Nechayev (from TNG and DS9. She and Picard didn't get along.) Please R&R. Thanks. Five T'Pol stood on the veranda as she enjoyed the summer warmth. Although it was July in San Francisco and the humidity was beginning to bother her, she still took pleasure in the heat. Granted, it was much cooler than Vulcan, but it was still acceptable, as long as other considerations were taken. Solkar owned a small dwelling in the Vulcan Compound in Sauselito. His wife T'Nari had set the inner climate controls for Vulcan comfort, but it wasn't the temperature that drove T'Pol outside. Soval. Solkar, and Jonathan discussed some disturbing news aboiut the High Command and the High Council. T'Pau is considering sending military ships to seek the I'Rhiamanau before they move against us. She claims it is a Vulcan matter. She firmly suppressed a spasm of irritation; the customary excuse was quickly becoming tiresome. 'Getting old', as Trip would term it. She felt a curious stir at the back of her mind, then a hint of questioning. Trip could feel her agitated state, although he didn't know why she felt that way. T'Pol closed her eyes and sent him a wordless reassurance. She missed him. It had taken her a while to admit that to herself. She missed his company, his strange sense of humor, and his steady presence. Yet she understood why they had to stay apart and not betray any hint of their strengthening relationship. It didn't mean she enjoyed it, however. The protests against non-Humans were becoming more frequent and more stringent in tone. To Earth's credit, the counter-demonstrations were growing in turn. News of violence escalating between the two groups permeated the Earth News Network. President Nathan Samuels had ordered Earth's civilian and Starfleet Security to help ensure the peace. At least here, in the isolated conclave of the Vulcan Compound, one could block out the outside conflicts, if one wished. T'Pol wanted serenity from the chaos, if only for a little while. She opened her eyes and gazed out into the distance. Movement drew her attention down to the courtyard and her focus zeroed in on the one person sitting next to the fountain. He sat cross-legged on one of the marble benches, eyes closed in meditation and his hands rested lightly on his knees. She was struck by his unusual appearance: blond hair was rare among Vulcans, although not unheard of. The man wore traveling robes of a deep blue. T'Pol didn't recognize him as a member of the ambassadorial staff. Who was he? His brow wrinkled in effort and then he slowly opened his eyes. He blinked as he tried to re-orient himself. Then he looked upward at T'Pol and met her gaze. She thought, I do indeed know him, but from where? Just as the words sped across her brain, she realized just how she knew him. It was his eyes. Dark blue, not brown or hazel; even rarer on a Vulcan than the blond hair. Put together, he made a strikingly unique individual. His mouth moved into a shy half-smile and her heart stopped. In Surak's name! It cannot be! It is not possible! If a Vulcan's jaw could hit the ground, T'Pol would be picking her teeth up from the concrete. Her initial instincts could hardly be possible, but at the same time, she knew they were true. Like a dream, she moved to the stairwell at the corner of the veranda that would take her directly down to the courtyard. The man stood in respect as she approached. T'Pol stopped only a few meters away from him and they regarded each other for a long heartbeat. He crossed his hands at the wrists and offered them to her, palms turned outward. She copied the gesture and pressed her hands to his. The warm bond that filled the air between them was only a brief confirmation of what her heart already knew. “How is this possible?” she finally managed to ask. Her voice was hoarse, as if she'd spent hours screaming. His smile was still gentle. “Anything is possible, but some things, I admit, are highly unlikely.” “Like your existence. I---” “The Vulcan Science Directorate admits that cross-dimensional travel is possible, T'Sia,” he said, “and there is infinite diversity in infinite combinations.” “That much is obvious.” T'Pol stared up at him intently, as if memorizing his features. “Cross-dimensional. So in another dimension, you exist. How did you come here, to this one?” He chuckled and shook his head. “Unfortunately, I cannot tell you that, T'Sia. There is already the possibility of irrevocable and harmful changes with just my presence here. All I can tell you that my purpose here is to help set right what has been led astray.” “Does he know you are here? Have you seen him?” Regret flashed in his eyes. “No. It is too dangerous for him to know. I am putting myself at risk just by approaching you, but I need your help. You are one of those who are sensitive to these dimensional shifts, so you are in a unique position.” Dimensional shifts. Suddenly, many things began to make sense. “Doctor Reed. He also has this ability.” “Yes, and it is a great burden to bear. Yet he has an important part in this drama. He feels what others cannot.” “How many more are there like us?” “Not many, but enough to make a difference. One single event can cause a chain reaction. A momentous decision. An unplanned death. By itself, it may or may not affect others, but all together, it could be disastrous.” He chuckled again and added, “It takes one, as he would say, to upset the applecart.” A momentous decision. An unplanned death. T'Pol's heart began to race in excitement. The bond between Trip and myself. The death of Captain Hayes. The near-destruction of Columbia. The emergence of Terra Prime. “That imbalance will have drastic consequences.” “Indeed, which is why this is the time to act.” He sobered and asked, “Will you help us?” T'Pol took a deep breath, for she knew that this was another one of those 'momentous decisions' that could change everything. “Yes.” He let out a sigh of relief, then looked upward. To T'Pol's surprise, Soval and Jonathan Archer stood on the veranda, while Solkar was halfway up the staircase. All three men seemed to echo the relief of her acceptance of what seemed...impossible. “What is your name?” T'Pol asked. “The one that you were born with?” This time, he wore a full-blown grin that was eerily familiar. “My name is Lorien. Lorien Tucker.” When Trip visited Hoshi the next morning, he was dumbfounded to find her waiting for him in the doorway, arms crossed, and looking pretty mad at him. Oh, shit, he thought. What happened now? “Uh...what'd I do this time?” he asked, trying to lighten her mood. It didn't work, for she glared up at him. “Get in here, Mister Tucker. Now.” Uh-oh. She said 'Mister Tucker'. I didn't bring my phase pistol and I'm not wearin' any body armor. I'm screwed. He sighed in resignation and followed her into the apartment. Trip saw Oksana Nechayev sitting at the kitchen table, looking worse for wear. The normally immaculate blonde hair hung in damp ringlets around her shoulders and there were dark circles under her eyes. Oksana must have been up all night. “What's goin' on? What's wrong?” He looked from Oksana to Hoshi and back again. “Did you two have an argument or somethin'?” Hoshi's glare didn't waver a bit as she replied, “I know, Trip. I know about you and Matt and Section 31.” The simple statement made his knees go weak and he sat down hard at the edge of the couch. He sighed and said, “Look, Hosh...this wasn't somethin' I could tell ya about---” “How long? Were you with them when we were on the Madagascar? Did Max know?” Trip winced again at her sharp tone. Hoshi had been Max Forrest's first officer; he had been his Armory officer. The Madagascar had been an experimental ship, one that had been a precursor to the Warp 5 ships. “Yes, and no, Max didn't know about it.” He took a deep breath and met her frosty gaze. “When I met Soval, Jon and 'Jeremiah', ten years ago, that was when the Section noticed me. I didn't actually get involved with 'em until a year and a half later, when I got mixed up in that thing on Tellar.” “When you met Gral and saved his family. That wasn't on Section 31's orders?” “No. It was out of the kindness of my heart.” He didn't mean to sound sarcastic, but he did. Trip inclined his head toward Oksana. “That's when I met Oksana and ran into Mark Harris again. Now, Matt...he'd been injured after the Consulate bombing, and I honestly thought he was dead. Imagine my surprise when we met the Montana during the Tandaran incident and he was in command. I thought I was seein' a ghost, or at least Jeremiah's good twin brother.” “Eight years. You've been an agent for eight years. You're one hell of an actor, Trip.” He shrugged. “I've never lied to you, Hoshi, and I've never lied to Max. And I've never killed anyone except in self-defense.” He managed a smile. “I gotta admit to omitting, uh, a few things.” She snorted in dry humor. “Just a few. And now? Are you under their orders to protect me?” “Well, Max and President Samuels had a say in the orders too, so not completely.” Trip's expression became more serious. “We know who tried to kill you, and we're trackin' em, as we speak. Once they're caught, we can let ya out of jail, Hosh.” She shook her head again. “I should kick your ass, but since you're supposed to be protecting me, I think it's better than I leave you in one piece. But---” Hoshi gave him a significant look. “No more lies of omission, Trip. I want you to be completely honest with me from now on.” He raised his right hand. “I promise, Cap'n. Cross my heart. No more hidin' stuff from you.” He laughed and shrugged again. “You can't imagine how relieved I feel, now that you know. It's pretty tough havin' to keep you in the dark.” “Don't thank me. Thank Oksana. She's the one who came clean about Section 31.” Hoshi raised an eyebrow at Oksana, who wore a slight smile. “Where do we go from here?” “Actually, somethin' come up that's got me really worried. It's personal.” Hoshi frowned. “Lizzie?” “No, not Lizzie.” Trip scowled and added, “Paxton's not messin' with my little sister. He's decided to go for the Doc's little sister. Madeline.” Madeline Reed walked through the five levels of Tate Modern. The museum's permanent exhibits were on the third and fifth floors, while the temporary ones were on the first, second and fifth floors. She stepped off the landing of the second and surveyed the newest collection. Mirror of the Galaxy: a display of Vulcan, Andorian, and Tellarite art. Maddie felt a surge of pride, for she had spent years convincing the respective governments to loan these pieces to the Tate. Now, the exhibition was ready to open, and just in time for the annual festival. A voice broke into her thoughts. “This particular display is stunning, my dear. My compliments on your hard work, Miss Reed.” She turned and smiled at the newcomer. “Thank you, John, and how many times do I have to ask you to call me Maddie instead of Miss Reed?” “Sorry, Maddie, it's a habit. Every time I go to England, I find myself becoming more formal.” John Paxton gazed at a Tellarite sculpture with interest. “Your father insists on it.” Maddie chuckled. “That's Father for you. Fortunately, we Reeds aren't all stuffy. My brother and I aren't your stereotypical, uptight Brits.” Paxton's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of her brother. “Is Doctor Reed coming to the festival?” “I've sent him an invitation, but I haven't heard back from him yet. Last I heard, he was considering employment at KSL. Odd, I hadn't thought he'd considered leaving Starfleet.” Maddie thought she saw a ghost of a smile pass over Paxton's face, but she must have imagined it. “Perhaps Danica's convinced him that he'd be safer here on Earth.” “Perhaps, though Malcolm's always wanted to see 'what's out there'.” She waved her hand in the vague direction of 'out there'. “I won't lie and say I'd be completely upset if he decided to stay on Earth, but Malcolm's always done what he's put his mind to do. As long as he's happy, I'm happy.” “He's lucky to have such a supportive sister.” Paxton surveyed an abstract Andorian painting. “Are you sure security's going to be adequate for the gallery opening? There are many people objecting to your including off-world art in the Tate.” A flash of irritation flashed on Maddie's face. “If they don't like it, they don't have to come and see it,” she retorted. “Frankly, I think all their rubbish is just that...ignorant rubbish. Besides, I believe we can learn something when we see things with different eyes.” He chuckled. “Just checking. I do worry about you and the safety of your staff, Maddie.” “I'm flattered, John, but I'm only one person in the whole lot.” She smiled and inclined her head. “Are you ready to sit through another gloriously dull meeting as the Advisory Board fusses over the last-minute details?” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose I'll have to be. Just nudge me awake before I start snoring, all right?” “All right.” The two of them walked down the hall to the second stairwell. Neither of them had noticed that the door to the first stairwell was partly ajar, and a tall figure watched them disappear from sight. He said nothing, but cold fury flashed in his green eyes. |
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