Star Trek: Season 8 - The Perfect Reflection

[wraith1701]

MIRROR UNIVERSE-


The IKS Negvar leisurely glided through space, the blue-green orb of the planet Q'uo'nos spinning slowly beneath her.  She was a fearsome vessel; her forward thrusting command module connected to the larger engineering section by a long, slightly tapering neck.  Two downswept pylons protruded from each side of the engineering module, terminating in a pair of the most powerful warp nacelles in the Klingon-Cardassian Union. 

As he glanced through the viewport of the shuttle carrying him to the ship, the Klingon Admiral KoraQ gave a grim nod of approval.  His flagship was truly a thing of beauty, and would be sure to keep the Terran hordes at bay.  The light of the system's primary star briefly illuminated the battle cruiser's grey-green hull, bringing the Negvar's predatory curves into sharp relief.  To KoraQ, her downswept wings gave her the appearance of a mighty raptor sweeping in to disembowel its prey.

KoraQ turned to the half-terran/half-cardassian man piloting the shuttle.  He grimaced in distaste, once again wondering how such a halfbreed abomination had been allowed to live once it was spit out from the terran who birthed it.  Yet another example of the moral depravity of our Cardassian allies, he thought.

"Bring us in to the port docking bay, PetaQ!" he bellowed.  "And if you so much as scratch the paint on the Negvar, I'll personally carve your filthy hide from your bones."

The man piloting the shuttle nodded, giving no sign of the outrage boiling within him.  You racist, self-important piece of filth, he thought. If there were any justice in this universe, you would be killed a thousand times over! 

"Yes, Admiral," he replied.

Although accustomed to the volatile mood of the Klingon Admiral, the pilot was caught off guard by the hardened fist which suddenly smashed into the side of his face, jerking his head violently to the left and throwing him out of his chair.  Lying sprawled on the shuttle's floor, the pilot gingerly dabbed the blood welling up from his torn cheek.  He looked up to see the Klingon Admiral looming above him, murder in his eyes.

"Who gave you permission to speak to me?"  KoraQ bellowed.  "Give me your name, PetaQ, so that I can report your insubordination to your Cardassian superiors!"

His arms quivering in combined anger and fear, the pilot carefully answered the Admiral.  "My name is Danan, Admiral.  I apologize for offending you."

"I care nothing for apologies, Danan; they are useful only to the weak."  KoraQ spoke the pilot's name as though it left a foul taste in his mouth.  "Return to your station, and do NOT speak to me again unless I command you to."

Danan scrambled back to his seat, afraid that any hesitation might provoke the crazy klingon to more violence.  What did I do to deserve to be born into such a cruel universe? he thought bitterly.

[Rico]

The tall soldier walked past the bridge turbolift with the Imperial symbol of sword through the terran homeworld and smiled.  The battle was going well.  His ship had managed to not only damage the Borg vessel, but they had been able to board her and capture a very interesting prisoner - one he had thought dead.  As he continued to pace, his crew made certain to pay close attention to their stations as he passed each of them.  He was an imposing figure, and years of command and intimidation had created a rigid authority that he enjoyed.  But he had not always been this way.  An attempt on his life years ago that had nearly succeeded but had cost him his wife and had left him much more hardened.  As he finally sat down in his command chair he rubbed the short black and gray hair as he often did when feeling frustrated.  His accidentally brushed the top of his right ear that was not as pointed as it had been before the attack he was forcing himself to push deep into the back of his disciplined mind.  The slightly weary man felt the presence of his first officer before he saw him appear at his side.  When he did look at him he could tell the blue skinned Andorian was pleased with the news he wanted to deliver.

"The battle goes well, Admiral.  The Borg vessel is damaged and the Tiberius is holding her own.  Shall I inform the Emperor of our progress?"  The lanky, officer said with a slight smirk.

"You would like that, wouldn't you Zremm?  Do you really think the Emperor wants to learn of how his flagship is doing from a blue-skinned alien like you?  I certainly don't think so."  Admiral Talbot said as he continued to look forward out the viewscreen.  He rubbed the long stubble on his chin.

"I only wish to tell the Emperor of our glorious battle and skill today.  I'm certain he would,...."  Zremm was cut-off as Talbot jumped up and back-handed him across the chin.  The Andorian fell slightly back and grabbed the bridge railing to catch himself.  He wiped at the blood forming on his chin as the personal guards of each officer quickly moved forward, but each were waved back by their masters.

"I thought I made myself clear before this.  I will make any reports to the Emperor.  The Tiberius is mine, best to remember that commander."  Talbot said as he forced himself to sit back down.  He had never liked Zremm.  The Andorian had risen in rank too quickly for Talbot's taste, much of the time under very questionable circumstances.

"Forgive my insolence, sir.  It won't happen again."  Zremm said as he pulled himself back up and adjusted his tunic.  His attempt at sincerity didn't fool Talbot as he glared at him with ice-blue eyes.

"See that it doesn't.  Now, go see Margon and this prisoner they brought back.  Confirm his identity and report back to me Zremm."  Talbot barked out and relaxed slightly.

"Yes, Admiral.  By your leave."  Zremm said as he gave the familiar hand salute which Talbot returned, if somewhat slowly.  He turned and left the bridge with his personal, blue-skinned guard trailing him.  Once the lift doors closed he grunted heavily and pounded the wall with his fist.  His antennae were still twitching visibly when the lift doors opened and he headed down the corridor.  As he walked on with his guard, Zremm heard a short whistle that he knew well coming from a nearby control alcove.  He smiled and stepped inside as he motioned for his guard to stand watch.

"Hey there, blue boy!  Looks like someone got your antennae in a bunch."  The familiar voice said as Zremm felt arms slip around him from behind and a sweet smell fill his nose.  He grabbed the hand on his chest and spun the attractive blonde woman around in front of him.  They kissed quickly and hard, each of them enjoying it immensely.

"Now, what brings the Admiral's woman down into this section, Lieutenant Barton?"

[X]

They are up to something. Bring me answers. A sultry female voice projected into the minds of her children as the shadow cloaked female form observed distant battles and assimilations on view screens deep in the heart of her personal vessel. New genetic material from only the finest of new species filtered through the Cooperative and downloaded to their nanites for enhancement during the drones next rejuvenation cycles. New minds were embraced with the warmth and power of unity with the Cooperative. Azure light radiated from the bio-mechanical systems and provided pale illumination compared to the light generated from the dozens of view screens as the Queen monitored each and every one of her children.

Millions of voices worked in harmony towards singular goals. Her goals. Millions of minds considered solutions to thousands of issues, all at her direction. Each was a unique voice bound and dedicated to a common purpose. Her.

"Enlarge grid 534563 and bring to primary view screen," she said as the machines about her carried out her command with no hesitation. "Full scan of area."

A rift in the fabric of space appeared before her, it's image provided by one of the many cloaked rhombic pyramid shaped scout vessels of the Cooperative. Information flooded through the Cooperative and to her as the ship conducted it's scans.

ALPHA SIGNAL DETECTED

Impossible! she thought to her self. It had been years since she had issued the first commands to search for such a signal and not much longer than she had given up hope for ever finding it again.

With a stray thought, orders were issued and implemented. Hidden agents, workers, and drones of the Cooperative were tasked with new objectives.

Locate anything came from the other side of the rift and secure it. Dispatch the nearest attack vessels to secure the rift.

She would personally attend to this new puzzle and her Cooperative instantly understood the importance of her objectives. The Collective had invaded space that the Cooperative claimed. Their transgressions would not go unpunished. Nor would the involvement of any of the lesser species in the Quadrant that managed to involve itself with her business.

[Meds]

The glass doors closed gently and formed the symbol of The Empire. D'Callan took a deep breath of fresh air and scanned the gravity chamber in the center of the room which housed one of his guests. Sauntering up to the prisoner D'Callan leaned against the body which flinched instantly.

"So I'm having a bit of a bad day so I'm going to cut, so to speak, straight to the chase. What were you doing outside the Emperors chambers?"

Silence came from the prisoner. D'Callan gently pushed the floating body.

"Come on now friend, lets not be rude. Speak and all will be fine, yes"

Still no answer but the terrified darting eyes spoke a thousand words.

"No words, no answers just silence yes. OK. So be it"

D'Callan thrust the scalpel he had taken from Margons ward into the heart of the helpless victim and the interrogator smiled as the body twitched and shook until it finally came to rest. Pressing a button on his belt the lifeless body began to lower from the gravity chamber. Facing the shocked expression of the victims face D'Callan cut the stitching that held the lips together.

"You can come out from the shadows Mr Dunn"

Dunn emerged from the corner of the room.

"Wasn't that a bit pointless?"

Turning D'Callan walked towards Dunn.

"Would you rather I take my anger out on you or her"

Dunn lowered his head, he had worked with the interrogator long enough to know not to criticize his methods.

"Forgive me sir.

D'Callan put his arm around Dunn's shoulder, the scalpel blade dangerously close to his eye.

"That insufferable Doctor has a human that I'm interested in, go and make sure he doesn't kill him. When he has had his fun bring it here.

Dunn nodded and began to leave but stopped as the interrogator added to his sentence.

"First, bring me the Klingon"

[moyer777]

Margon took short and shallow breaths as he struggled to gain his composure.  How dare someone interfere with his work.  He had lost his temper, something he didn't do much since it didn't serve his purpose.  The broken jars lay on the floor as the fluid flooded around his feet. 

"I'm not cleaning it up" he muttered.  "Computer, drone 47"

The strange sound of a drone being released from its alcove  rose above the whir of machinery in his lab and a drone emerged.  This drone had no eyes, no mouth, simply a breathing hole in the center of a grey head.  Scars surrounded bands of black leather that lay horizontally strapped around where the face should be. 
"Clean this up!" Margon barked.

The seemingly mindless drone extended his mechanical arm and began to vacuum up the liquid at Margon's feet as the Dr. approached Quinn.

"Something's different about  you" he snarled, "Why do I get a sense that you aren't like my other subjects?"

Nathan tried not to panic as Margon methodically flicked a metal scalpel in his hand.  He felt the curiosity welling up in the Bolian as he peered down at him on the table.  "What are you going to do with me?" Quinn asked.  "What do you want from me Counselor?"

Margon paused and tipped his head to the left.  "What? What did you say?"

"I'm a Doctor, not a counselor" he said with disgust.  "Does this hurt?"  Margon pushed on one of the tubes that he had placed running into Quinn's head.  He had implanted Quinn with several devices, trying to discover his subject's unique abilities.

"Ahhhh" yelled Quinn as he felt himself starting to pass out.

"That answers my question", the Dr. smiled.  And then he pushed harder clamping off the tube.  Nathan lost consciousness. 

"Counselor?" he pondered.  "Why did he call me counselor?"

Something inside the Bolian clicked for a moment.  A brief impression ran through his devious mind.  Like a faint whisper during a raging storm he heard the words "That's because you are where I come from"

He dropped his scalpel onto the floor and it bounced a couple of times.  The sound of the metal hitting the floor echoed in the chamber. 

"He's a telepath!" this epiphany changed everything.   Margon's left eyebrow raised and he resolved to explain the mystery of his strange new guinea pig. 

"Computer, seal the doors"  He would have no one disturbing his new find.  "Interface holo matrix around test subject and table"  he said into the air.  The computer chirped and Margon took a metal probe from his jacket.  As he held it up into the light he touched a few buttons on the side of it and then smiled. 

"This ought to do the trick" he smiled.  "I wonder what we will find?" 

With that he thrust the metal spike into the base of Quinn's cerebral cortex. 

Nathan's eyes opened wide and he arched upwards as he felt the pain of the cold metal spike on his skull.  The pain was unbearable. 

The probe made an eerie sloshing sound as it connected to the brain.  The other end of the probe now began to light up and two small antennas emerged.  They began to send information to the holo emitters. 

The room began to change around them as Margon took readings on his medical tricorder. 

"Perfect" he mused.  "Your implants will speak to me my new friend, your implants will speak to me"  He reached down and stroked the side of  Nathan's face.  "There, there, it will all be over soon"

[Jen]

She could literally feel the feral hatred emanating from the interrogator, as she strode past him on her way out of David's room. She held his gaze fearlessly, and did her best to reflect the look of raw abhorrence.  Sevryll knew it perturbed him that a Vulcan would be allowed to do so. If she were any other woman, he would have slapped her down before the Emperor.... And yet, if she were any other woman she would not have had the courage to return the glower. 

Was it courage that drove her to willingly take the mantle she had been asked to accept?  The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. Those were Surak's words, but did she truly believe them? Logic had betrayed her people too many times for Sevryll to see the sense in such an assertion.

Surak's principals were once important to her, but that ended when her husband was assimilated. Through their bond, she felt autonomy viciously ripped from him... And then the link to her beloved was severed by the raucous drone of countless voices speaking as one. There was no logic in his suffering—no logic in her own. What was logic but a LIE told for the benefit of an oppressed people? Nothing... It was nothing but a lie...

Sevryll furiously fought the wave of nausea that washed over her as she exited the room and entered the corridor.  She needed another dose of the remedy Casey had created for her.  The mistress swallowed and headed quickly to her personal physician's quarters. She would need his help, not only to combat the uncomfortable symptoms, but to treat the man that David had released into her care. Peters, no doubt, would require medical attention after enduring D'Callan's cruel torture.

[Trekkygeek]

Rhys Peters awoke from a glorious dream and was greeted with the view of his small cell. He sighed as reality kicked out the last embers of sleep.He slowly sat up and his body protested in pain. He had been in this cell for quite some time now and his stay here had been a painful one.His face was covered in cuts and bruises and his clothes were tattered and torn. Memories of the last few days stabbed into his foggy mind.

Rhys Peters had been captured by the Empire a few days ago and he had been unceremoniously thrown him into this retched room without too much explanation. Something about treason, he couldn't remember exactly. But he did know the punishment for such a crime. The Empire had a reputation for dealing with traitors and Peters was keen not to experience it for himself. Not that he wasn't used to pain though.

Peters history had been full of pain, both mentally and physically. He had spent his adult life as a mercenary, never pledging himself completely to anyone, just in it for himself and and latinum that could be made. He was a huge athletic man and his shape and natural skill for fighting had kept him busy ever since.

But these last few days had been different. Now he was captured, no where to run and he was frightened, an emotion that he rarely felt. He had been visited by a stranger on a few occasions who had taken great pleasure in dishing out pain to him. Torture was not something Rhys had endured before, he was more into the good honest art of hand to hand combat, not the cowardly ways of this interrogator.

He swallowed hard as the thought of the sneering torturer entered his mind again. He lay back on the uncomfortable "bed", closed his eyes and tried to get back to the lovely dream had just had.

[Jen]

Sevryll leaned against the bulkhead outside Casey Peterson's room, as the lurking queasiness continued to challenge her resolve. It had almost overwhelmed her and the dizziness that accompanied the sensation, prompted her to brace herself. She closed her eyes and tried to regain her poise.  The pounding of boots on metal deck plates grew in amplitude, as a group of men stomped into the corridor. Startled by the noise, her eyes opened and her gaze abruptly turned from the ceiling to the soldiers. The crewmen ogled her lustfully before the realization, of just who the woman belonged to, washed over them. They soberly moved their attention to their boots or weapons and quickened their haste. The vessel shuttered again, reminding Sevryll that they were in the midst of a battle. How could she forget that the Borg were just beyond the bulkhead she leaned against?  The Vulcan drew a breath and straightened as the men passed, then she slowly turned to depress the door chime.

Just as her slender finger moved to touch the pad, the door opened to reveal a haggard individual. Casey wore the expression of a man whose burdens had carved permanent concern upon his face. A furrowed brow lifted and his hazel eyes widened when he saw his patient's flushed appearance and faded demeanor. 

"Mistress..." The ship lurched slightly and she gripped the doorframe to keep her balance. Doctor Peterson stepped forward and visually scanned  the corridor before ushering her inside, "please, come in." She stumbled into his room as the ship rocked violently. He caught her arm before she fell, and carefully lowered her into a chair. Without a word, the physician moved to gather a vile and a hypo from a nearby cabinet then began to prepared the remedy. "I need you to accompany me to the brig, doctor," said the Vulcan between swallows.
 
"You shouldn't go anywhere in your state. You need to rest," the doctor uttered sternly as he stepped forward and quickly pressed the device against her neck. She closed her eyes a moment as the injection worked within her to curtail the nausea.

She swallowed again and flicked her gaze upward to meet Casey's, "The Emperor has granted me permission to remove Rhys from the brig. I need him to help me carry out another assignment..." She paused; the drug began to relax her muscles, and she leaned back in the chair in relief. Casey's expression softened and he took a chair beside her. " He will require medical attention," she continued with a minor slur,  "I am certain you are aware of the interrogator's propensity for brutality. It is likely D'Callan has left Peters in poor health—he needs you doctor."

D'Callan was dangerous, and it was obvious to the doctor that the Interrogator hated Sevryll...Casey shivered as he recalled the torture that he had once endured in the interrogator's brig—Joseph D'Callan was merciless. Peterson raised a hand to touch the deep scar hidden in his short-cropped, brown hair and frowned. The only cause Sevryll should be fighting, was the fight to renew her health.

Casey was a noble man, and such a trait was rare within the Empire. Sevryll knew she would need an ally like Doctor Peterson to help her fulfill her task, and knowing the injustice that befell his Vulcan friend, the physician was all too willing to assist the General's wife. When the Emperor officially named Sevryll as his Mistress, he granted her one request. Aside from power, Sevryll was David Locke's one predilection. He was eager to turn her thoughts from the dead to himself... and so, without question, the Emperor appointed the Casey Peterson as the Imperial Physician. It was then that Sevryll realized the power she held over him. He may be the most formidable ruler the Empire had ever known, but she had learned to bend his will... 

[wraith1701]

joint post by HawkeyeMeds and wraith1701-


MIRROR UNIVERSE-


Dunn walked to the anonymous holding cell and looked through the glass panel.  He didn't like this prisoner; he was awkward, defensive and angry.  As he pressed the control panel the door shot up. He pointed his phaser into the darkness.

"Computer, remove holding clamps."

The sound of metal sliding back echoed out of the darkness and a growl began to stir.

Dunn stepped back.

"Walk slowly out of the cell.  Do not make any sudden movements Klingon, or i shall happily destroy you."

A growl echoed out of the darkness and a manacled Klingon stepped forward; he lifted his arms to his face to shield the light that burned his eyes.

"Move. The Interrogator feels the need to pass some time, and as you are his favorite toy at the moment he thought he'd bring you out to play."

The Klingon moved towards the doors, shuffling gently as the chains around his ankles limited his movement. Dunn watched the huge creature move towards the exit, taking an opportunity he kicked the door panel next to the Kilingon's.

"Wakey, wakey, Peters.  You might be next."

Dunn smiled and ran up to the Klingon, and pushed him.

"Come on, move!"

The doors to the interrogation chamber opened, and D'Callan watched the former Klingon Regent shuffle in.

Worf stared at the two Terrans, silently hoping that this would be the day that he could end his humiliation.  He had no idea of how long he had been their captive, or of where the cell was located.  The bare walls provided no access to the outside world, and the lighting went on and off at irregular intervals, no doubt in an effort to keep him in a state of constant disorientation.  But regardless of whether it took a month, or a year, he knew without a doubt that the day would come when his captors made a mistake. 

And when they did, he would make them pay in blood.

As he passed near the human called "Dunn", Worf flexed his shoulders, trying to restore some of the circulation to his arms.  He was gratified to see Dunn flinch at the motion.

Terrans, he thought.  So soft and frail.  If not for the meddling of the interlopers from the other universe, the Tera'ngan vermin would have been long stomped out like the tribbles they were.  Instead, here they were trying to recreate their lost Empire.

The taller Tera'ngan, the one called "D'callan", smiled evilly at Worf.  "Would you care for some blood wine, hmmmm?  Come on Worf, sit down, make yourself at home."

Worf returned the man's predatory grin with one of his own, and glanced at the room's walls.  "If you truly want to make me feel at home, perhaps you will allow me to redecorate.  I think the walls would look much better painted with your blood.  Remove my shackles, and I will be happy to demonstrate."

D'Callan erupted into a hearty laugh.  "That's the spirit, mate!"  He quickly approached Worf, obviously unafraid of the hulking Klingon.  "That's what makes you one of my favorite pets.  You just don't know when to quit!"

Worf felt his blood boil as he imagined his hands tearing apart the Tera'ngan's throat.  "I'll quit once your species has been returned to its rightful place at the foot of the Alliance."  His features twisted into an ugly leer.  "Enjoy your temporary power while you can, petaQ.  My son will be sending a fleet to cleanse your world with flame.  We shall see how much you laugh when your cities are burning down around you."

D'Callan's smiled stayed but his eyes had fire behind them.

"Fire, Worf?  Fire.  Would you like to see the flames, would you like to feel the heat?  Let us act out this childish imagination of yours."

D'callan turned to Dunn.

"Worf here is feeling a bit cold, a tad chilly. I think it would be rude of us not to offer heat and comfort to our guests.  Put him in the furnace."

Dunn looked slightly shocked at the idea, and D'Callan noticed.  Rushing towards him D'Callan grabbed his collars.

"NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

He pushed Dunn back and sneered at Worf, who stuck out his chest in defiance and raised his manacled arms in a Mok'bara fighting stance.  D'Callans eyes widened in joyful anticipation of the attack.

Suddenly from behind, a phaser beam glided past him and hit Worf in the chest, stunning the Klingon to the ground.  D'callan spun round, his red eyes burning with rage.

"WHAT IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME ARE YOU DOING, DUNN?!?"

Dunn lowered his phaser.  He looked scared.

"I-I thought he was going to attack you sir, i thought it best to.."

D'Callans fist finished Dunn's sentence.

"I'll save killing you Dunn.  If i ever get a hint that you sympathize with any of these prisoners then i will have you transferred to suicide watch. Do you understand?"

Dunn nodded, and D'Callan smiled back at him.

"Now be a good sport, remove Worf, and get me whoever Margon is practicing on.  Oh, and Dunn.  Do not betray me."

D'Callan's last words echoed in Dunn's ears as he watched the Arch Interrogator walk gently to the main brig.

[Meds]

JOINT POST BY JEN & HAWKEYEMEDS

Physically experiencing her husband's assimilation by the Borg, made returning to normalcy impossible for Sevryll. That awful level of awareness, that bonded couples shared, had transformed her personality when she felt him slip from her forever. Her husband was not an ignorant man, but his loyalty kept him from protesting the day the Emperor sent him to capture a the Borg King. The general knew he would not return, but he expected to die in combat...not to become another subject of the King he was sent to dethrone. Sevryll's mind often returned to the morning she awoke from that nightmare of pain and fear, only to enter another within the waking world. She did not require a confirmation of her husband's doomed fate, and yet it came with an unannounced visit from Tevian's 'friend', Emperor Locke. He came to personally deliver the news, offer his condolences and...

The memory was brushed away as she, once again, felt a presence stir in her mind. When it first made itself known, the knowledge had inspired her to find the nearest airlock and surrender to the frozen void of space. But as the consciousness continued to develop, it became fused with her own. Though unwanted, the presence was all she had left.

"Are you OK?" Asked Casey as they continued down the dimly lit corridor toward the Brig. Silently, she nodded in affirmation. A handful of heartbeats later, they were stepping into D'Callan's realm.

The door wisked open with the speed of a viper, to reveal a grisly scene. The room was cold and dark, but Susan Cain's twisted form could be seen suspended in a gravity chamber across the room. Sevryll caught her breath as she recognized the Interrogator's wife. Doctor Peterson's etched face transitioned to a grimace.  He refrained from scanning for bio-signs, for it was obvious the woman was dead. Sevryll centered herself and began her search for Rhys.

A thud from behind caused the pair to spin around to see the body of Susan laying on the floor—her glassy eyes starring up at them. From the darkness just beyond, came the hissing voice of D'Callan.

"Your synopsis Doctor? My wife appears to be suffering from a broken heart..."

He laughed casually and bent down and touch her cold face. He stroked it gently and smiled,"its such a shame she had to leave me that way. Still another one bites the dust! Aye? Ha ha ha!"

Sevryll took a step forward. "D'Callan, we have come for the prisoner Peters, we have ord......"

D'Callan began talking loudly over her, "Its such a shame, Doctor, that you deem it necessary to contaminate my room with this green-blooded trollop!" Refusing to address her directly, he continued speaking to Casey, "I know why you are here. I trust you have the relevant.... paperwork?"

He sat down behind a duty station and leveled a disdainful gaze upon Sevryll.

The Vulcan was used to hearing prejudice comments from Terrans. Though the Empire no longer enslaved her people, there remained a deep seeded hatred in many humans. She lifted her chin and tilted her head slightly to study the scourge seated comfortably before her. He was looking for a reaction, and though he had hit a nerve with his slight, she chose not give him the satisfaction of a response. Sevryll let the moment stretch before she responded coolly,  "I have come to collect Rhys Peters. The Emperor's verbal directive is all the 'paperwork' you require."


D'Callans teeth clenched together as he quickly stood,  swooped up his chair and smacked it against  Casey's chest, causing him to fly into the wall. Sevryll fell back in an attempt to defend herself, but D'Callan was just as quickly upon her... his seething breath heating the side of her face, "I don't like you." He drew a deep breath, as he sniffed her neck, "I don't like your offensive smell...." He looked her up and down before leaning close to her ear. "I see the way you put your greasy hair behind that ridiculous pointed ear of yours, in a vein attempt at flirtation. It works with the Emperor, but I see through you Sevryll. I know you are up to something and when I discover what that is—and I will—I will personally enjoy removing swatches of your pale skin from every inch of your body." And with that he licked her cheek.

The rage that Sevryll kept hidden from the outside worlds, erupted in that moment and with all the strength of her Vulcan lineage she tossed the vile man off of her with a guttural cry that reverberated within the darkened brig. D'callan flew across the room. His back hit the floor with a metallic thud and he slid to a stop four meters away. He slowly got up, ran a hand through his black hair, and brushed off his tunic as his low chuckle grew into an evil laugh.

Breathing heavily, Sevryll walked past him to collect the prisoner who had silently watched from his cell. She felt the heat of the Interrogator's gaze burning her back as she and Doctor Peterson released the force field and walked Rhys out of the dungeon.

[X]

The almond shaped biotech command ship of the Queen of the Cooperative slid though space in the direction of the rift and battle taking place near it. Aria stepped free of her alcove at the heart the vessel and stretched seductively as her body accepted newly acquired genetic enhancement from species 9837. Beyond the donation of 20% of their population and key technological advancements, the gift of their genetic provided the Cooperative with multi-spectrum vision that would replace the current techno-organic implants used by many of her children.

The same genetic enhancements were also being integrated into the sensor systems of the Cooperative's biotech vessels.

Aria smiled as she adjusted to her new vision and could feel the success of the integration from many of her children. The hours that it would take to reach the battle gave her more than enough time to plan.

Soon she would change the universe for the better and no one would stop her.

[wraith1701]

Mirror Universe; on the fringe of Klingon space-


As he stepped aboard the Negvar, KoraQ quickly scanned the faces of the warriors arrayed before him.  They were the cream of the crop; all had worked, fought, and killed their way up the ladder for the opportunity to serve on the fleet's flagship.  Only here, at the bloody point of the Alliance's thrust into the heart of the Teran'gans' so-called 'Empire', would there be opportunities for True Glory.  KoraQ returned his warriors' salutes, pounding his clenched right fist smartly against his armored chest, and barked "Status!"

The ship's female Captain stepped forward, separating herself from the ranks.  "All ship's systems operating at peak performance!  Reactor generating 89 chaDvay' per cycle; 13 percent higher than fleet standard.  We carry a full load of 250 proton torpedoes, and the medical support deck has been reconfigured per your instructions to accommodate an additional 175 Mk. IV quantum torpedoes.  All disruptor banks have been tested to a confirmed accuracy of .25 qelI'qams per loghqam." 

The fetching young Captain risked a leering, conspiratorial smile at the admiral.  "Even Kahles himself couldn't help any who dared to oppose us!"

KoraQ returned the Captain's smile, his eye roving unabashedly to the deeply tanned cleavage revealed by her formfitting armor.  "Outstanding!" he replied.  "If fortune smiles on us, we will have a chance to put your bragging to the test very soon!" 

KoraQ stomped down the metallic boarding ramp leading to the deck of the docking bay.  His metal-shod boots echoed loudly with each step.  "Any word from the Regent?"

"Yes, Admiral," the Captain replied, falling into step beside him.  "Regent Alx'Andar has left instructions for you; you can retrieve them from any data terminal."

"I wish to review them in my quarters," KoraQ replied.  "Lead the way, Captain!"

"Of course, Admiral," she replied.

As he followed the captain into the dimly lit corridor, KoraQ marveled at her form; he felt almost mesmerized as he watched her well toned buttocks flexing hypnotically beneath the tight leather of her combat leggings.  "Marvelous," he muttered quietly. 

"Admiral?" she replied, glancing over her shoulder.

"Nothing," KoraQ replied, dragging his eyes back up to meet hers.  "Carry on, Captain."

Minutes later, the pair stood in KoraQ's spartan quarters, looking on as the red trefoil of the Klingon Empire sprang to life on the Admiral's computer monitor.  The captain turned to KoraQ.  "Should I leave, Admiral?"

"No," KoraQ replied.  "I believe in full disclosure among my command staff.  If you are to fight, and possibly die with me, you deserve to know the reasoning behind it.  Remain."

At the touch of a button, the image wavered and vanished, to be replaced by a recording of the youthful but stern face of the newly-minted leader of Civilized Space.  The youth's auburn colored beard lent him an air of authority far beyond his 28 years.  Alx'Andar's thick eyebrows drew together, giving his smile a sinister, commanding weight. 

"Admiral KoraQ.  I present to you the crown Jewel of my fleet, the I.K.S. Negvar.  With this ship beneath your feet, you should have no problem freeing my father from the clutches of the vile Tera'ngans and their so-called Emperor, David Locke.  The Captain of the Negvar is HoD K'Lara, a warrior of prodigious cunning and unmatched talents."  Regent Alx'Andar's leering grin turned especially lascivious.  "Both on the bridge, and in the bunk, if you take my meaning," he added with a wink.  "But keep in mind, Admiral; I'm especially fond of K'Lara.  She may well be my future consort."

Alx'Andar leaned forward, his face taking on a stern cast.  "You are to make use of her talents only as they pertain to your mission.  If you honor me and my father, you will seek... recreation elsewhere.  That is all."  The Regent raised his fist and slapped it against his chest in salute.  "Qpla!"

As the screen went dark, K'Lara stepped closer to KoraQ, and sniffed seductively at the nape of his neck.  "He wasn't joking, you know," she said, her voice growing husky.  "About my talents, I mean."

KoraQ whirled, shoving the captain away from him.  "Are you mad?  You heard what he said!  I owe Worf and his House too much to dishonor his son thru cuckoldry!"

As KoraQ stood staring at the darkened monitor, he almost didn't hear K'Lara approaching him once more.  He did, however, hear the whistling of her hand as it cut through the air, striking him firmly across the lower lip.  As he stared at her in astonishment, K'Lara's other fist shot out as well, catching the stunned Admiral squarely in the jaw. 

KoraQ turned and calmly spit a bloody tooth onto the deck before facing the captain with a vicious grin.  He chuckled mirthlessly.

"I don't know whether you are trying to challenge my authority or come on to me.  But it doesn't really matter."  His eyes burning with rage, KoraQ slowly drew his dagger.  As he held the gleaming blade before him, he whispered in a soft, dangerous voice.  "Beloved of the Regent or not, I will send your soul to Stovokor!" 

Raising a hand to her lips, K'Lara playfully smiled, and licked KoraQ's blood from one of her knuckles.  "What a shame," she said with a smirk.  "I'd expected more from a warrior with your reputation.  To think that you'd be scared off by a mere boy!"

KoraQ bellowed with rage and frustration, then drew back and threw his blade with all of his strength.  To her credit, K'Lara didn't flinch as the blade whizzed by her head, missing her by centimeters and burying itself into the wall behind her. 

She once again approached the Admiral, her eyebrows lowered seductively.  "I'm flattered by the Regent's attention, but I belong to no one!  If I see something I want, I take it.  That is the Way Of The Warrior, is it not?"  She placed a hotly burning hand on the back of KoraQ's neck, pulling his face closer to hers.  KoraQ's shoulders quivered as duty struggled against lust within him.

"Come now, Admiral; I see the way you look at me," K'Lara said.  "I know that you want me.  So what are you; a Warrior, or a frightened slave?" 

KoraQ grasped K'Lara and kissed her fiercely, then shoved her onto his bare, metal bunk.  "I fear no one!" he bellowed.

Many decks below, the mighty warp core of the Negvar thrummed to throbbing, pulsating life.  With an explosion of eye-searing light, the deadly ship leaped into warp, bound for the Terran system. 

[moyer777]

Mirror Universe
Joint post with Bryancd, Hawkeyemeds and moyer777

The lights seemed to brighten and a bridge of a starship emerged around Margon and Quinn.  Seated in the captains chair was Nathan and he was giving orders to crewman that were strangley dressed in uniforms that were similar but not quite like the one's Margon was acustomed too.

"Where are we?" asked Margon.

"Sit down counselor, take you seat" said Quinn.  He was beginning to believe he was back on the Arabella.

The red alert Klaxton sounded as two borg materialized on the bridge.

"Margon!  Watch out!" yelled Quinn.  Margon ducked as a mechanical arm swept across his head.

"Computer freeze program!" he said startled.

The borg hung in time and space as the whole bridge froze.  That is all except Quinn and Margon.

"Where are you from? What ship is this?"

Quinn was feeling naucious now and almot threw up.  The drugs that Margon had injected into his body were causing him to be dizzy.

"Counselor, why would you ask me such a question" he slurred as he began to lose his fight to stay awake.

"Don't sleep yet my friend!" Margon said as he pulled his tazer from his pocket.

"ZAP!"

The electric current jarred Nathan awake again.

"What's going on?"  He said disoriented.

Margon walked to the side of the bridge and read the name of the ship.  "The U.S.S. Arabella?"  The united federation of planets?  What the?"

Just then Dunn arrived at Margons door and he went to walk in but hit the glass doors. Tapping the control panel on the side the door remained still.

"Computer," he snarled,"open Dr. Margon's door!"

"UNABLE TO COMPLY. DOORS ARE SEALED FROM THE INSIDE"

Dunn punched the door and began to shout as the blood rushed to his face.

"Margon, what are you doing in there!? I have orders to take your pet away!"

Margon, absorbed in this holo fantasy heard Dunn.

"Oh curse that wretch" he said under his breath.

An angry muffled voice came from behind the doors.

"Stay on the other side of the glass Dunn"

Dunn went to tap his communication badge to inform the interorgator but stopped. He didn't want to upset him again recalling the last time he had. He flinched as the memory of that pain lingered still. If Margon had sealed the door it meant that the patient was going to be in a seriously bad way. He raised his phaser and increased the setting and fired at the glass.

Streams of glass splintered into Margons lab.  One of the chunks lodged in Margon's cheek and blood splatterd onto Quinn.  The probe in the back of the Captain's neck dislodged and the entire simulation came to a grinding halt.  Margon  dived for cover behind the body of Quinn. Dunn ran in and quickly scanned the room, the hands of the Dr. came into view and clasped onto the tubes connected into Quinn, he raised himself up and glared at the intruder.

"Who gave you permission to interrupt my experiments?"

Dunn stepped through the shattered glass, the crunching sound echoed through the chambers.

"The Emperor wants him alive, D'callan wants him alive. I see you are having fun as usual, but this time I'm not going to take the fall and the consequences you blue sadist."

Margon's anger flared, but he controlled himself.  "...and you're lucky I didn't kill you where you stand.  I have powerful friends, I will have you gutted for this."

Dunn smiled and pointed his phaser at Margon. "Remove the tubes, lift him up and put him in the chair." Dunn said, trying to project an image of calm as his stomach was in knots. Margon did indeed have powerful friends.

"No, I'm not finished with him yet." he said glaring at Dunn.

"I said give him to me, or I will take great pleasure in seeing you on the receiving end of your toys."

Margon's lip quivered only slightly as he whispered, "Computer, security measure 35, Dr. Margon."

With that a cloud of gas began to spray from the ventilation ducts.  A low growl was heard from behind Dunn.  He turned to see a Klingon Targ baring his teeth and crouched ready to jump.

[Jen]

Joint Post by Jen, Trekkygeek and Iceman


"Are you OK doctor?" Asked Sevryll as they trudged through passageway with Rhys Peters dragging between them.

Her breathing was still heavy, and Casey was concerned that D'Callan had injured her, "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Assessing the damage, she directed the question inward. After a moment she replied in a hushed tone, "we are fine."

"What's this all about?" Inquired Rhys as the three entered the doctor's quarters.

Peterson and Sevryll hauled the former prisoner to a sofa and carefully helped him onto it. "I have secured your release, with the stipulation that I perform a mind meld to glean any information of value to the Empire," said Sevryll. She wearily fell into a near by chair and wiped her sleeve over the place D'Callan's tongue had violated her cheek. She found herself feeling sick again, but the cause was not related to her affliction. She wished she had cut off D'Callan's tongue, instead of throwing him across the room. But violence had never been her modus operandi.

Doctor Peterson looked over Rhys' deep gashes. D'Callan must be taking lessons from Margon, he thought to himself as he used the dermal regenerator to repair the open cuts and broken bones; the deep purple bruising seemed to encompass his entire his body.

Sevryll watched as Rhys' wounds were treated, "I have my own reasons for freeing you--I require your hacking skills; my contact has requested this vessel's shield modulation codes. Doctor Margon's lab is the best place with which to access that information. It is secluded, and I believe I can bribe the Bolian into cooperating."

Peters was surprised at how quickly things had changed. One minute he was sitting in his cell, wondering what would become of him, and the next he found himself having his wounds tended to with skill and compassion.

So, his hacking skills were required once more. It had been a long time since he had hacked anything serious, and he hoped technology hadn't accelerated too far since that assignment. Peters tried not to display his self-doubt as he frowned up at Sevryll, "I want triple the latinum your contact paid me last time!"

"Yes, of course...." she replied. "You will have your payment. I will speak to Margon, and map the layout of his lab in case he fails to find my offer tempting."

Peters relaxed slightly as the doctor tended to his wounds. He felt the familiar tingle as the dermal regenerator worked busily over his bald, bruised head and thought about what Sevryll had offered him. He had worked for her before, and things had run smoothly on those occasions, but this job sounded more complex. Sevryll had not flinched when he had asked for triple the latinum, which led him to believe that this mission was both dangerous and crucial. It was this fact, along with his broken and beaten body, that made the decision to aid her, easy to make. He would help Sevryll because the job would put him in a position to give this "D'Callan" a little of his own medicine. For the first time in many days, a smile appeared on Rhys' cracked lips.

Casey looked up from his work to see an odd expression cross his patient's swollen face. His Betazoid senses told him that Rhys was not delirious, but rather pleased with the opportunity that Sevryll had provided him. The doctor turned back to his appointed task, moving the regenerator over Rhy's broken ribs. The severity of his wounds brought Casey back to the time when he had the misfortune of experiencing D'Callan's torture first hand; he still carried deep physical and mental scars from that encounter. Even the memory of that incident caused Casey physical pain; an unfortunate testament to the effectiveness of D'Callans skill and zeal for his own work...if you could call it that.

There were many who harbored a great hatred for the Interrogator. Yet D'Callan was responsible for the death of Casey's wife, Myella, and the doctor's animosity for Joseph ran far deeper than the chasm that separated him from Myella's departed spirit. Perhaps he would finally have the chance to exact a slow and painful revenge on the man who had killed her with a smile.

[Jen]

Joint Post by Jen and Just X

The Queen of the Cooperative silently observed the movements of the ships involved in the prolonged battle. She watched impassively as neither group made any significant progress against their enemies. Her heart pounded in anticipation of what lay beyond the rift and the ramifications of that discovery.

Aria's mind reached out through the web of thoughts that comprised the Cooperative and its agents, how is your assignment proceeding. She thought to one of her most well placed operatives.

Sevryll sat upright in her chair as the voice entered her mind. A moment later, the presence within her stirred again—it was obvious it too had heard the Queen's call. The Vulcan glanced to Peterson and Rhys, the doctor was occupied with treating his patient, who had fallen asleep on the sofa. Sevryll closed her eyes and responded in thought. We have recovered Peters. The doctor is treating him presently. D'Callan may attempt to hinder my efforts.


I will be arriving soon and the time for masquerades will then be lifted. You will also be greatly rewarded for your efforts and sacrifices. Aria thought as her ship drew closer to her agents. Soon, the Empire and Alliance will be replaced with something all the more superior. We are curious as to what our hated rivals were doing at the rift. Ships will soon arrive to extract all assets and reward their efforts. The Cooperative is quite pleased with your progress.



Aboard her ship, Aria reached out to other operatives and prepared them for their assignments. It might take some time, but the galaxy would soon be under her control. With each step, she would make things better. At the heart of the Cooperative, Aria monitored millions of tasks at once. She tested newly acquired genetic material on distant drones, and enhanced the rest of the Cooperative with successful results. Her own form, while retaining much of her former appearance, contained the genetic and technological enhancements of over two hundred species. To the elite of the Cooperative, she granted the best enhancements.


Sevryll had been granted a more advanced telepathy, to enable communication with the Cooperative. The Vulcan had declined anything beyond that, but Aria would not be refused for long. Though this version of Sevryll was not her real mother, she was genetically identical to the woman who had birthed her some twenty years prior. That woman, and her father Aeric, were lost and she had no hope of ever recovering them. No, this Sevryll was all the family Aria had, and she took care of her own...whether they liked it or not.


We will contact our operative aboard the Alliance flagship and see if they hold information that might be of use. Aria thought to Sevryll then turned her mind toward another spy.


Casey finished treating Rhys and rolled his gaze toward the Vulcan woman; she was nodding in response to a statement he could not hear. Yet he was half Betazoid, which meant he could sense her mood, and the pervading tone of her demeanor had changed. The turbulence that D'Callan stoked within her, had been suppressed—her anger replaced by an air of expectancy.