"And that would be . . . ?" Kirk prompted.
"The chain of command in your Starfleet is extremely informal. The sharing of ideas and strategies between the ranks seems . . . almost mandatory."
"Welcome to the twenty-fourth century," Kirk said.
"Therefore," the mirror Spock continued, "I am at a loss to understand why it is that Admiral Nechayev will not at least admit the possibility that Captain Scott has raised legitimate concerns."
"I'm not," Scott said. "She's a strong-willed lass— officer—used to getting her own way. And she's a fleet admiral, so she must be doing something right."
But Kirk wasn't so quick to dismiss the mirror Spock's assessment. He was too like Spock for Kirk to take anything he said lightly.
But before he could ask the intendant for more details of his insight, Kirk heard footsteps behind him.
He turned to see Spock and Janeway approaching.
Janeway moved slowly, as if recovering from some overwhelming physical exertion. And Kirk knew Spock well enough to detect the same, almost stunned hesitancy hidden beneath his placid exterior.
Spock wasted no time. "Your conclusions were correct, Captain. Kathryn Janeway is not connected to the arrival of the mirror Voyager nor to the disappearance of the Enterprise. There is no room for deception within her."
Janeway caught Kirk looking at her, then glanced down as if she had been caught in an embarrassing position. Kirk wondered what secrets she had revealed in response to Spock's probing.
McCoy had no fear of being blunt. "What about the other two, Spock? Any chance they've been lying to her?"
"I detected no pattern of falsehood. Janeway has melded with my counterpart in the past." Then Spock looked over to T'Val, as if seeing her for the first time.
Kirk watched T'Val draw herself up in defiance, as if for a moment she had abandoned a lifetime of Vulcan training and conditioning.
"And," Spock continued, "through that link, I am also aware that my counterpart has melded with T'Val . . . his daughter with the counterpart of Saavik."
Now everyone looked at T'Val, and suddenly Kirk understood the hundred small gestures of caring and protection T'Val had offered the mirror Spock. Not just as someone respecting her superior officer, but as a daughter caring for her sick father.
And Kirk also understood the unsettled emotions he had sensed in his friend.
The path not taken.
Genetically, T'Val could be Spock's daughter as well. Certainly, Spock and Saavik in this universe had been close enough that a second T'Val had not been an unlikelihood. And through Spock's meld with Janeway, Kirk was certain his friend knew very well what his mirror daughter had become in that other reality.
And more, he would know, or be cursed with wondering, what she might have become in this reality.
Kirk went to Spock, and had no need to ask how he was. The bond between them was strong enough for Spock to understand his concern. And for Kirk to know that Spock was touched by it.
They would talk about this moment, Kirk knew. But only when the mission had been completed.
All that passed between them in a look, a moment of connection.
But, Kirk saw, there was something else there that troubled his friend.
Something unconnected to whatever sorrows he held within his heart as he contemplated a child he never had.
"What else, Spock?" Kirk asked,
Spock looked at Janeway as if asking permission to proceed. Kirk saw the slight nod she gave him.
"Kathryn was once held in an Alliance prison camp." Something dark moved behind Spock's eyes at that, and Kirk did not want to think what degradations Janeway might have endured, degradations that were now part of Spock's memories as well. "A special camp for ... those humans who had counterparts in this universe."
Kirk looked questioningly at Janeway.
"I didn't know who the Janeway of this universe was," she explained. "All I knew was that . . . somewhere, there was another me."
Kirk turned his attention back to Spock. "What was the purpose of the camp?"
"Kathryn was never told, but from the conditions she remembers, it appears obvious. Infiltration."
"Good Lord," McCoy said. "Duplicates so exact they'd pass voice analysis, brain scans, even DNA testing."
"Precisely," Spock agreed.
"About a year and a half ago, they came for me," Janeway said. "They told me I wasn't needed anymore."
"The timing corresponds to the final conclusion of the board of inquiry investigation into Voyager's disappearance in our universe," Spock said. "At that time, the ship was officially declared lost with all hands. With her counterpart, Captain Janeway, presumed dead, the mirror Janeway was slated to be reassigned to a labor camp."
"I got away during the transfer," Janeway said. "I had to . . ." But she stopped there, as if the memory of how she had managed to escape her guards was too disturbing to recount.
But to Kirk, there was even more to Spock's revelations than explaining Janeway's past. "Spock, if the Alliance knew exactly when Starfleet ruled on Voyager's loss, if they knew who among their Terran slaves had counterparts here . . ."
Spock nodded. "It does suggest that they maintain close watch on developments in our universe, most likely through a sophisticated network of counterparts who have taken the places of their duplicates."
Scott muttered in shocked disbelief. McCoy nervously rubbed his thumb over his folded fingers.
And Kirk saw the unexpected solution to what had been a frustrating mystery.
"I have a theory," Kirk said.
Spock knew him too well "And I concur."
Kirk turned to the mystified faces of McCoy and Scott, and the three rebels from the mirror universe.
"The Sovereign may already be under enemy control," he said.
And if it was true, then Kirk knew his war might already have been lost before it had even begun.
SEVENTEEN
Kirk watched as McCoy moved efficiently around the Sovereign's spacious sickbay. But the veteran physician's ease in these surroundings came as no surprise. Kirk knew McCoy had made his career that of being a perpetual thorn in the sides of Starfleet's medical planners. He doubted there was a single component of current starship health-care facilities that had not been influenced in some way by McCoy's vast experience and unwavering dedication to his patients.
Unlike many others in Starfleet, McCoy had never been driven by the desire for bigger postings, or notoriety, or even fame. In fact, he was one of the few survivors of Starfleet's heroic age of exploration never to have written his memoirs. All McCoy cared about was the chance to serve to the best of his abilities. Beyond that, he was content to live his life simply, devoting himself to those people he loved.
Kirk admired him for that, more than he had ever said.
And it was with that same admiration that Kirk now watched as McCoy brought all his skill and experience to bear on the terrible disease that ravaged Spock's counterpart.
"I thought there was no cure for Bendii," Admiral Nechayev said.
Kirk had invited her here to speak with Intendant Spock before McCoy began his treatment. Kirk had told Nechayev there was a chance the intendant would be unconscious for days, but that he was willing to answer any questions she might have about the mirror universe, to put her at her ease.
For now, the intendant lay on the main diagnostic and treatment bed, his eyes closed in meditation. A small, neurocortical monitor was affixed to his forehead, silently pulsing with a constellation of colored lights. McCoy, wearing a long, rumpled lab coat over his vest, worked at a medical replicator station, preparing the first stage of his assault.
"True," Kirk said, "but it's been centuries since the last case of it in a Vulcan so young. Dr. McCoy is convinced that means he can induce a remission by treating some of the intendant's other infirmities."
Nechayev seemed unconcerned. "So what am I here for? A deathbed confession in case it doesn't work?"
&
nbsp; Kirk held his temper with difficulty. He reminded himself there were other things at stake here. Most important, Teilani's life. The admiral had yet to share with Kirk any of Starfleet's progress in responding to her abductors' demands. All she had permitted herself to say was that Starfleet had communicated over a long-range subspace channel, specified by the abductors, that Kirk was in no position to aid the intendant because he was being held in custody by Starfleet Intelligence. According to Nechayev, no reply had been forthcoming. Teilani's fate was unknown. And it took all of Kirk's self-control not to explode in rage at the admiral's frustrating obstinacy. But Kirk knew Nechayev would be within her rights to return him to Earth, an action that would add immeasurably to the obstacles he already faced in saving the woman he loved.
"I don't believe he has anything to confess to," Kirk said, hiding his anguish as expertly as any Vulcan. "I spoke to him about Starfleet's desire to know more about the history of the mirror universe, and he volunteered to speak with you. I think he hopes that if Starfleet learns the truth about conditions in his universe, they will offer aid."
"He can hope all he wants."
"I wouldn't discourage him at the outset. You know how Vulcans are when they decide to . . . keep a secret."
Nechayev nodded distractedly, as if she had fifty other things she'd rather be doing. She looked over at McCoy. "Is it all right with him?"
"Dr. McCoy says a few minutes' delay won't affect the treatment."
Nechayev rolled her neck as if it were stiff, or as if she were bored. "We'll be arriving at the search coordinates within the hour, so let's get this over with." She strode over to the mirror Spock's bedside. "Are you awake?"
The intendant's eyes fluttered open. "Greetings, Admiral." "Kirk says you have something to tell me."
"The captain informed me that you had many questions about my reality. I offered to answer them to the best of my ability."
"Why?"
The mirror Spock shifted in his bed to look at the admiral more directly. "Your Starfleet has, in effect, abducted me, and my companions. You are preventing us from completing our mission here."
"You mean, stealing Starfleet secrets."
"Nothing so drastic. We only wish to copy computer files to obtain information that will have no effect on your universe. Nothing would be taken from you. Nothing here would change."
"But your universe would change."
"That is my intention."
Nechayev seemed to be losing patience. "Did you ever have a Prime Directive in your Starfleet?"
"Of course. Starfleet General Order Number One. Authorizing all personnel and spacecraft to use whatever means necessary to persuade the inhabitants of a planet, no matter what their level of development, to join the Empire." Before Nechayev could respond, the mirror Spock added, "I understand it is somewhat different in this universe."
Kirk could detect the deliberate, though extremely understated wryness of what the mirror Spock had said.
Evidently, so could the admiral. She wasn't impressed. "Never mind. Let's start at the beginning. What is the composition of the Terran resistance?"
The mirror Spock raised both eyebrows and shook his head, and if not for the beard, Kirk could believe he was looking at his own Spock. "I do not know."
"I thought you were its leader."
"Not of the Terran resistance. I serve as ... a figurehead for the Vulcan resistance. The two groups, for our own protection, do not meet, except circumspectly, cell to cell."
"Yet you know about the Terran resistance members who built a duplicate of the Defiant in your universe."
The mirror Spock nodded as if he were enjoying a fascinating conversation about any other subject. "Certainly. Their success has revitalized all the resistance groups actively engaged against the Alliance. It is what inspired us to come to this universe ourselves to obtain similar information."
Nechayev waved her hand as if discounting everything the intendant had said. "Yet you still claim you're not in contact with them."
"I, personally? No. Neither have I knowledge of anyone in my cell having direct contact with them. Which is as it should be, as I am sure you will agree."
Nechayev chewed her lip in thought. She glanced at Kirk but he shrugged, said nothing.
"All right," she finally continued. "Tell me about the Vulcan resistance."
"It formed at the time of the Vulcan Capitulation, when it became clear the Alliance would not live up to its promise of—"
But Nechayev wouldn't let him finish. "I'm not interested in ancient history." She looked sharply at Kirk again, as if suddenly remembering his presence. "Starfleet wants to know about current conditions first. We can work backward from there."
The mirror Spock settled back on the small pillow on his bed and gazed up at the medical sensor array suspended above him. "Very well. Today, the Vulcan resistance comprises sixty-four cells of which I am aware, each with eight operatives."
As if she had just thought of the question, Nechayev asked, "How do you communicate?"
"Each member of a single cell has knowledge of only one other cell. Messages are passed blindly in that manner."
"No, no. That's not what I meant. I presume you engage in acts of . . . sabotage? Terrorism?"
The mirror Spock kept his eyes carefully focused on the sensor array. "We prefer to think of our activities as military actions intended to regain our independence."
"Your kind always do," Nechayev said. "Look, I'm trying to get an understanding of your level of technology."
The mirror Spock shifted his gaze to look at her. "Why?"
The admiral didn't look away. "To understand what might happen to the status quo in your universe if certain . . . components of Starfleet technology were . . . to be released to you."
"You would do that?"
Nechayev started to reach out to place her hand on the mirror Spock's shoulder, then reconsidered and simply laid her hand, palm flat, on the side of his bed. "It's not up to me. But there is a small group within Starfleet who believe—" She glanced at Kirk. "—as does the captain, that the natural development of your civilization has been so hopelessly compromised by contact with us that further intervention is not prohibited under the Prime Directive."
She lifted her hand, raising a cautionary finger. "I am not one of those people. But it is my duty as a Starfleet officer to provide a complete, unbiased report to the committee members who will eventually rule on this matter. What you say to me will be relayed to them. So whatever happens is up to you."
Kirk was surprised by the admiral's sudden candor. He was even more surprised as the mirror Spock began to detail the organization and technological capabilities of the Vulcan resistance. Spock's counterpart named the top seven leaders whom he had met personally. He explained how their training camp on Mars was disguised by a cloaking device salvaged from a damaged Romulan vessel. And he detailed the encryption techniques Vulcan operatives used as they communicated over randomly shifting subspace radio frequencies, so that anyone inadvertently hearing a few seconds of conversation would assume that only static had been picked up.
By the time the mirror Spock was finishing his dissertation, McCoy had returned to his patient's bedside with a tray of hyposprays. He carried a flashing medical tricorder and kept using it to check readings on the intendant, first from one side, then from the other. Unlike Kirk, the doctor could allow his impatience to show.
When he had finished speaking, the mirror Spock licked his dry lips. He seemed older than McCoy. "Is that helpful, Admiral?"
Nechayev's remote mood had lessened, Kirk saw, as if by lowering his defenses the mirror Spock had made it possible for her to lower her own. "It's what the committee will need to know. And I know they will be impressed by the thoroughness of your report."
"You will remember it in enough detail?" the mirror Spock asked.
Nechayev looked up. "Computer, replay the intendant's previous statement, beginning with his description of the Mars tr
aining camp."
With no appreciable delay, the intendant's voice spoke from the communications speakers in sickbay.
"End playback," the admiral said. "The committee members will hear everything you told me, word for word."
McCoy snapped shut his tricorder. "Why don't we end it there?"
Nechayev didn't seem to have any objection. "If Starfleet has further questions . . .?"
"The intendant might be able to answer them tomorrow," McCoy said. "And definitely will be able to answer them within three days."
Nechayev patted the side of the mirror Spock's bed. "Then I wish you good luck with your treatment."
"It is not logical, but thank you."
The admiral motioned to Kirk to accompany her to the doors. He fell into step beside her.
"I don't know if you think anything was accomplished," Nechayev said, "but I think that was a very valuable session. So ... thank you, Captain." The doors slid open before her and she paused at the threshold. "I wasn't sure if we'd be able to have a working relationship."
Kirk didn't know what was behind her abrupt change of attitude, but he played along. "Just trying to do my part."
"Good. Carry on."
The admiral left.
As soon as the sickbay doors slipped shut, the mirror Spock pushed himself up to sit on the side of the bed and peeled the neurocortical monitor from his forehead. McCoy was about to speak, but Kirk held up his hand in warning.
"Computer," Kirk said, "disengage record mode."
"Record mode disengaged," the computer confirmed.
"Now, Doctor," Kirk said.
McCoy flipped open his tricorder with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Her quantum signature matches the intendant's. She's not the real admiral."
Kirk helped the mirror Spock to his feet. "Tell me you didn't reveal actual information about the Vulcan resistance."
The mirror Spock raised an eyebrow. "Why would the Vulcan resistance maintain a training camp on Mars?"
"My thought, exactly," Kirk said, hoping he was convincing. He hadn't thought about that, at all.
McCoy held up a hypospray with an ampule filled with dark blue liquid. "One shot of this and she'll sleep for a week. I say we get her on the bridge."
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