Broken Image

-CHAPTER 4-

There was a telepath in the room, a person whose telepathic abilities quite possibly equaled Spock's own. He could not see them but could sense their presence: feel the substance of thought emitting outward. Whoever it was had not disciplined their ability the way the Vulcan had, and seemed to be usisng only a minimal among the discipline that they did have.

Spock's mind reached out tenuously, searching the other's thoughts for identity. As with a net with holes too big for the prey, his mind swept up the stray thoughts and let them drift back out. The interest in his companion was tempered by caution. Only stray thoughts were caught and mind contact directly avoided so that the stranger would not be aware that his thoughts were being read. Oddly, the discipline that was lacking in the telepathic abilities was present and amplified within the person's mind itself.

It was a brilliantly keen mind that was disciplined well and utilized so fully that the Vulcan suspected-no-knew at once that the person was close to his intellectual equal, and that was something in itself. The Commander's mind burned with an insatiable curiosity to delve into the very depths of the other: to discover and examine every piece of information he could possibly obtain. Ironically, he found himself flooded with information because of the torrent of fatigue beneath the shield of discipline. It was an unbearable, all encompassing fatigue that would have been crippling to a normal human. Whoever this person was, they had suppressed it to the very depths of the mind. It was only because of its presence that he had gained access to that depth of the mind at all.

The correlating parallels that formed were facinating. A staunch code of honor prevailed, strengthened by a unifying philosophy that was centuries old and ingrained in the person's heritage.

'Ancients.' The word flowed from both their minds in an echoing unison. The history of both their heritages in some instances was so close they were almost one.

It would indeed be interesting, and perhaps even profitable, to meet this person, he thought silently, his eyes still focused on the computer readout screen. The person was intelligent, knew that his presence would be detected, but had sought him out regardless of that fact. There was an open challenge presented that radiated strength and courage. The stranger was prepared to talk: ready to fight. Either way the confrontation was evident and he sensed that whoever it was wished to get it over with now.

Finally, the lab technician stood up to leave and Spock asked him to lock the door behind him. With a frown of curiosity, he nodded and did as the Commander requested.

Spock leaned back and looked over at the other side of the room. "Please be seated."

The person froze. "Why should I?" she said evenly.

Spock raised his eyebrows, both at the feminine voice and the question.

He stood. "Conversation would be more easily accomplished if I could see you."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"On the contrary, I believe our immediate future rests on what we have to say to each other."

Tasha studied him critically before lowering her hand to the badge on her sash. She materialized, her right hand casually resting on her hip.

"A cloaking web," he mused. "ingenious."

"Observant today, aren't we, Captain Spock?" she said wryly, her black eyes sliding over his slim form. "A new uniform."

"The Fleet seems to think they are more practical," he commented, merely as a pretense to keep her talking.

"But hardly as flamboyant. You've shaved your beard."

"I never had one," he replied.

She smiled and stretched her shoulders luxuriously. "I liked you better with a beard and the old uniform," she said, seeming to ignore his comment. She was studying him critically, watching every movement, weighing every word. Her suspicions took solid form and found solid doubts.

Spock returned the critical study with much the same suspicions. He met her dark eyes with his as his mind reached out. He should know this woman. He sensed it from the moment he'd felt her presence, but her image brought no memories.

He tensed as the blurred images and snatches of memories, not his own flashed across his mind. The two of them: the woman and he talking, working together, then fighting. But it hadn't been him. Spock took a step toward her.

Her hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger. 'Try it,' she thought angrily. 'Just try it: that will be one mind meld you'll never forget. I guarantee it.'

He paused and nodded slightly to her. She hesitated, then suddenly dove for the door. Freezing as the setting on a Federation phaser clicked into place she slowly turned back toward him. Spock moved forward, and, after a moment motioned toward the door.

Obediently she turned to move out the door, but suddenly swung full cirle, her foot coming up and smashing against the phaser in the Vulcan's hand. It flew in a spiraled arc, slamming into the far wall of the room.

He hesitated a moment before swinging to her with calculating swiftness. Spock caught her wrist, twisting it behind her. She lunged forward and spun in a tumblesault, slipping out of his grasp. He spun after her and they wrestled viciously.

She was even more skilled than he'd suspected. So skilled that he could not place himself in a position to apply a nerve pinch and he found himself barely managing to prevent her from drawing her dagger. That was his only advantage. It was far easier to prevent her from drawing it than it would be to disarm her, once drawn, he knew.

He dove after her again in mounting annoyance. She kept slipping out of his grasp as if she had no substance and the pursuit had ceased to be challenging.

In a desperate lunge, he caught hold of her and clutched her tightly. He froze suddenly. he was not used to wrestling with women and the obvious physical differences blazed forth as his arm tightened across her chest.

He dropped his hand from around her uncomfortably. She turned swiftly, and his eyes swept over the mask of non-emotion. Friends, workers...Yes Spock had received those images through the link, but he had not suspected a romance: yet it was there.

"I'm sorry." he said.

"Keep your hands off me, Kaiyon!" she spat out viciously.

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. The images had cleared, the differences between himself and the Spock he saw becoming concrete. He took time to study her again, appreciative of the knowledge of where she'd come from and the possibilites it provided.

Her ebony eyes were emotionless, but Spock felt her absorbing and weighing his actions. Suddenly, a gleaming smile swept over her tan features and she began laughing delightedly. Tasha turned and, swooping down to pick up the phaser, she tossed it to him.

Spock caught it, eyebrows raised.

She shook her head in delight. "I'm sorry, Spock. I had to be sure."

Sweeping over to the console, she curled into a chair. "Commander, isn't it?"

Spock fingered the phaser before nodding. "Yes, who are you?"

The smile slid from her face as she eyed him curiously. "Surely you know?"

"I know you are from a Mirror Universe. However, since I have never met your counterpart, I do not know who you are."

"Well then, " she said , impulsively swinging to her feet, inclining her head gracefully and planting her hands on her hips. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name..." she paused long enough to swagger with her feet apart. "Is Tasha Kainear…Arikara," she added after a moment. "I'm an assassin, a thief, a traitor- a spy."

"Indeed. And the uniform?"

"This? A hobby. The Kaicamdrean Federation Starfleet. I'm a Kainan. It's a rank equal to your Captain, but without a command. Helps pass the time. Who's white?" she suddenly asked.

Spock glanced at the chessboard she had indicated. "The Captain."

"My Kirk prefers poker," Tasha smiled, sinking into one of the chairs.

"So does mine."

"He's in quite a predicament."

Spock nodded and sat down stiffly in the other chair. "It would appear so."

Tasha smiled luxuriously and leaned forward on her elbow. "Appearances can be deceiving." Her fingers shot forward and she moved one of the pieces and leaned back, still smiling.

The frown burrowed deeply into Spock's forehead.

"Checkmate," she echoed quietly. "Sp-my Spock cheats. The purpose of the game is to win. It's only logical to accomplish that any possible way."

"But it's not honorable," Spock said darkly.

Tasha glanced up quickly. She smiled slightly after a long moment. "I'm not used to hearing those words spoken by someone else."

"There are many cultures that value honor above death. In our universe," he added after a moment, "It is know as the Klingon Empire. How did you evolve into the Kaicamdrean Federation?"

"Odd to indicate possession of the unpossessible, isn't it?"

"Yes," Spock replied. "But for clarity purposes, it is not a question of yours or my universe-they exist. Do you play?" he asked resetting the chessboard.

"Occasionally," she answered smoothly, making the first move.

As Spock and Tasha moved toward the door of the Captain's quarters, her eyes flickered over the side wall. The image of the letters burned in her eyes: James T. Kirk. A snide smile played on her lips. It seemed almost a final revenge for the other Kirk, and if he could, she knew he'd be gloating.

Spock directed her into the cabin and locked the door as it closed behind them. Once again, he was aware of the utter fatigue radiating from her.

"Captain," he said. "We have a guest."

"Spock," Kirk questioned, striding into the room. "What..." He hesitated as he saw her, his eyes widening slightly, his breath seeping out slowly and imperceptibly. So, this was Chekov's intruder. He knew what the Lieutenant had not told him immediately as his eyes traveled slowly over her, coming to rest on her face. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning. And she knew it.

She was by far one of the most beautiful women Kirk had ever seen and he suspected she'd be even more so if her coal black hair wasn't swept into a loose, thick braid running across the top of her head. The harsh uniform1 didn't suit her beauty, but it fit her personality, no doubt, Kirk thought bitterly. And her eyes-her eyes were solid black, with the haunting depthlessness of an animal's eyes. It was the first thing you noticed about her, and the first thing you avoided because they didn't seem to be capable of any human emotion. Yes, she was beautiful, too beautiful, and doubtlessly dangerous if pressed. He didn't trust her.

She froze solid, her face coldly emotionless. Spock glanced over at her sharply and took an unconscious step away from her in shock as the images flashed through his mind. They were blurred in confusion, but he felt and saw them. Captain James T. Kirk...vicious, animal-like, in a different uniform, yet still James T. Kirk. The woman...cold, ruthless, skilled to an expertise. And a knife: a large, shining, bloodstained knife. He tried to tear his mind away, but they were emotions he still hadn't learned to deal with fully, not even since he admitted he needed emotions: the emotions of horror and terror.

The last image blared forth in shocking clarity. The body of Captain James T. Kirk, not wounded, not stabbed, but brutally muitilated; hacked to pieces with blood pouring out of it in torrents. His face wearing a look of surprise and defeat. He was without a doubt, dead.2

The woman beside him had done it. She'd killed Kirk. Not without a struggle, but to a definite victory. Kirk stared at the clear emotion on Spock's face, wondering what could cause such open horror and rage.

Spock straightened, a mask of non-emotion sliding over his features. "Our guest is from the Mirror Universe. She killed that Kirk."

"How unfortunate."

Tasha frowned at Kirk critically.

"Then Chekov was right," Kirk said. "We went into the other universe and brought her out with us."

"Apparently."

"But who is she?" Kirk demanded turning to her.

Tasha smiled "Little Bo Peep."

"She apparently has a vast knowlege of human culture," Spock commented.

Kirk nodded, his eyes never leaving the Kainan. "Welcome aboard the Enterprise he said evenly.

Tasha ignored his proffered hand. "No need, Captain. I've been here three days."

The Captain's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" he demanded as his hand dropped suddenly to his side.

Tasha smiled sweetly, declining to answer.

"Kainan Tasha Kainear Arikara. First officer aboard the I.S.C. Kytaerin, Captain." Spock provided.

Kirk raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment. "Quite an honor Ma'am," he said, inclining his head slightly.

"Most assuredly not as honored as I am to meet a dead man."

Kirk glanced at Spock, who raised an eyebrow speculatively. "Impertinent," the Captain stated. "It's what's to be expected of a Mirror Universe." He turned toward the intercom, but froze suddenly. The dagger whizzed past his head and slammed into the wall beside him. A millimeter closer and it would have taken off his ear. A centimeter closer, it would have split his skull.

"Don't call Security," she drew out quietly.

He met her eyes evenly. "I give the orders on this ship. I'll call Security if I please."

She threw out her arm. The dagger quivered, then jerked free and flew back into her awaiting palm. She slid it leisurely back into its sheathe.

"Unique," Kirk commented.

"Yes," she said and smiled. "Please do call Security, Captain. I haven't seen Pavel all day."

Kirk dropped his hand from the intercom and moved toward her with an even gaze. "The dagger."

Her hand went to it instinctively. She glanced at it, then looked at the Captain and shook her head. "I won't use it."

Kirk dropped his hand, studying her. "No," he said wryly. "Only when my back is turned."

"Captain, she is bound by a code of honor, much like that of the Vulcan's. There is no honor in stabbing a man in the back, Sir," Spock said quietly.

"Unless it's Kirk," Tasha muttered under her breath.

Kirk glared at her. "The dagger."

Tasha studied him in silence for a moment before shrugging. "If you insist, Captain. " She unsheathed the dagger leisurely, casually flipping it upward to catch it by the tip.

Kirk's hand clasped the hilt, drawing it away from her. Suddenly, he hesitated and glanced at her quickly. She met his eyes with a dark gaze that was openly gloating as the metal hilt seered into his flesh. Slowly, the Captain turned and gently placed the dagger on the edge of the desk, unobtrusively clasping his hand closed again to conceal the scorched, blistered flesh.

She shrugged, a slight smile playing on her lips. "You insisted, Captain."

"Yes," he drew out darkly between clenched teeth.

Spock raised one eybrow. "The weapon is apparently equipped with a security device that radiates heat when handled by someone other than the owner."

"Apparently," Kirk echoed as he paced past her toward the door. "Spock if she's our 'friend', exactly what has she been doing on this ship for the past three days?"

"Try to imagine yourself, Captain. You're in the middle of an ion storm, your ship is falling apart, you're facing a Klingon ship and you turn to find your mother ship gone. How would you feel if the only way to save your life was to beam abaord the Klingon ship?"

"What have you been doing for three days?" he repeated evenly, ignoring her previous comments.

"I'm sorry," Tasha responded bitterly. "I didn't have any orders to report to you."

Kirk spun back to her angrily. "Guests usually make known their presence!" he shouted back, glancing at the resheathed dagger on her sash.

"I didn't know it was a Mirror Universe!" she retorted angrily.

"Whether you knew it or not, you've been on this ship unauthorized for three days."

"Well, forgive me,"Tasha drew out mockingly. "did you actually expect me to walk up to you and say: Hello! I'm a spy from the Mirror Universe, would you mind helping me get back?"3

"A SPY!?"

Tasha rolled her eyes and swung toward the door. "He's not any different. I don't even know why I bothered..."

Spock caught her arm, preventing her from continuing further. "Despite my distaste for shouting matches, I cannot allow you to leave."

"Spock," Tasha said quietly. "you don't actually expect me to reason with him? And he's a pacer besides!"

The Vulcan's grip tightened on her arm. She shuddered slightly and glanced down at it. "Please release me Spock. I don't like being manhandled."

After a moment, he complied. She turned back to Kirk as the fatigue washed upward.

"Spock," Kirk asked. "Did you know she was a spy?"

"I had been made aware of her profession."

"Captain," Tasha spat out. "I'm as usual, baffled by your failure to understand that spies work for themselves. And if I didn't, there would still be nothing here I'd be interested in."

"No?" Kirk demanded, stepping up to within inches of her. "Star Fleet strength, codes, defensive positions, weapons, government secrets..."

"For WHAT?" Tasha cut in.

"To come across the Mirror and invade, perhaps."

"Invade?" Tasha laughed. "Why would we want to take over your pitiful Federation?"

"You tell me," Kirk demanded.

"Captain, I...!" she hesitated with a sudden gasp for air. Wavering slightly as the room began to pitch and dive, the blackness began seeping around her.

"Captain!" Spock lunged past him, but not fast enough to catch Tasha as she collapsed on the floor.

Kirk punched the intercom irritably. " Mr. Chekov?"

"Yes, Sir," came the reply after a moment.

"There's been a new development. Report to sickbay immediately. Kirk out."

Turning back, he watched as Spock lifted her easily into his arms. That was no lie. She was, in fact, unconscious. He stared at her for a moment. There were quite a few races that could make themselves pass out at will, quite a few.

"Mr. Spock," he said evenly after a moment. "Escort our prisoner to sickbay."

Spock met his gaze for a moment before nodding. He had expected nothing less from Kirk.

"I'm going to despise that woman," Kirk muttered as Spock turned to leave.

"With all due respect, Sir," Spock said quietly. "I believe you already do."

As the door closed silently behind the Vulcan, he slowly unclasped his hand, gritting his teeth against the intense pain. What could have been a prospective, advantagious meeting had turned into a heated confrontation. Kirk reprimanded himself again. Whatever information there might have been to gain from the Mirror Universe, he'd conveniently lost. He'd attempted to give her the benefit of the doubt and failed.

Perhaps it was not destined to be. An alliance might prove useless across the Mirror and if the woman was exemplatory of her race,...the hell with it. He doubted there had to be a good for every evil. Without further hesitation, he strode out the doors toward sickbay, favoring the burned hand.

Kirk strode into the examining room, his right hand still tightly clenched. Pausing by the examination table, he glanced at both Spock and McCoy before turning his eyes to study the still form."What is she, Bones?"

"Kaicamdrean, Jim. The readings are perfect. No evidence of reconstructive surgery."

Kirk nodded. "What about the uniform, Spock?"

"Not on record, but facinating. The uniform is laced with concealed equipment. The sash is a type of cloaking web that achieves invisibility for the person wearing it. Most of the equipment is unfamiliar to me: I can only theorize its use."

"I want it analyzed."

"I..." Spock hesitated and glanced up at the door as his sensitive hearing picked up the hurried strides of the Chief of Security. Following Spock's example, Kirk looked up just as Chekov strode in.

"Captain, you..." he stopped suddenly in mid-sentence as his eyes fell on the woman's still form. After a moment he approached the table. "The development?" he asked, staring down at her..

"Yes."

"Who is she?"

"Tasha Kainear Arikara," Spock supplied. "A spy from the Klingon Empire in the Mirror Universe. Your theory was correct. She followed us through the Mirror, thinking us the I.S.S. Enterprise."

Chekov frowned slightly, his eyes sliding over Kirk. They rested on the clutched right hand before meeting the Captain's gaze with perturbed anger. Kirk had learned long ago that Chekov was extremely sensitive to other people's pain and intolerant of martyrdom for so much as a blister.

"I want it analyzed."

Kirk nodded imperceptibley, acknowledging to the Lieutenant that he'd have it taken care of as Spock completed the woman's background.

"Where'd you find her?" Chekov asked, mentally calculating the number of hours his team had been vainly searching the ship.

The Captain smiled slightly in acknowledgement of the annoyance in the Lieutenant's voice. "I didn't, Spock did."

Chekov's eyes turned to the Science Officer in expectance.

"It was she who located me. Our inability to detect her was due to a cloaking web she was wearing."

Nodding, Chekov relaxed and turned his attention back to studying Tasha.

"Spock, we were discussing an analyzation of the equipment."

"Yes, Sir. I would be most willing to cooperate if you would make a suggestion as how to proceed. All the equipment on the Kainan has the same security device as the dagger."

"Yes," Kirk muttered, tightening his hand. He glanced at Chekov. "It radiated extreme heat when anyone but the owner touches it. I want it neutralized."

Chekov snorted slightly, meeting Kirk's eyes. "Ours is not to question why," he muttered, then audibly: "Sir, I could work on it, but we've been trying to develop that very device for years. We have to know how it works before we can stop it from working. We have to stop it from working to get to it and find out how it works, Sir."

Kirk nodded. "What's wrong with her, Bones?"

"She's collapsed from exhaustion."

Frowning, Kirk stepped out of the way as the orderlies moved her to a regular bed. "That means that she won't be up for weeks."

Chapel shook her head. "No, Captain. She'll be up in a few hours. It seems when they sleep, they sleep."

"What do you mean?"

"It's similar to the Vulcan healing process. They concentrate everything on total rest. We dream, toss and turn-they rest."

"Then why," Kirk demanded, "Is she suffering from exhaustion?"

"Apparently she hasn't slept for some time," Spock said.

"They also have a healing process similar to Vulcans," McCoy commented. "She's only recently been in some type of nasty fight. There are still a number of bruises and healing wounds present."

Kirk nodded. "Dr. Chapel, let me know as soon as she's up. Chekov, Spock, assemble Team A in my quarters for a briefing. Bones, may I see you in your office for a moment?"

Kirk hesitated as Chekov passed him on his way out the door. "Ours is but to do or die," he muttered. "Mr. Chekov, do me a favor: ask our 'guest' for a piece of her equipment, don't steal it."

1 Why would she change back into her uniform or did I miss something?

2 8712.29—would Tasha have been so graphic—after all—the honor of one dead even if they were the enemy

3(In Tasha's handwriting) Change to make BI—KK/T meet cabin with Spk.—T. tells Kirk when meets- She's an information specialist." Spk looks at her to KK "She's a spy."

T.-"…I'm an information and activities specialist, Captain."

Spock's dark eyes shifted to Tasha breifely, then back to his Captain. "Commander Arikara is a Spy, Sir."

"That's what I said." She asserted indignantly.

What Tasha always says she is—think Feran came up with it—what listed as in Computer banks: First Officer and this and no one knows what the hell it means.—Yes, she's really active and keeps up with the latest gossip and reads a lot—an active intellectualist with 'A' tendancies.

KK drew a breath half-forming a retort that he never voice upon catching an od glint in the Vulcan's eyes.

BI – CHAPTER 4 - 9