Star Trek®: Mirror Universe: Shards and Shadows

by Marco Palmieri

  A sneer crossed her mother’s face as she looked over the man. “What would we possibly need a flute player for here?”

  “Hard to go from room to room with a piano strapped to my chest,” Luc said in a joke that fell flat.

  Lwaxana gave him the once-over. “He’s not much to look at,” she said, causing Deanna to blush in embarrassment. “But since you’ve come all this way, I should at least interview you properly.”

  Luc made a move to return to their seats, but Lwaxana did not budge. Instead, she threw on her hostess persona, breaking into a huge smile and taking Luc’s hands into her own. The pleasant greeting she exchanged with him carefully hid the fact that she was reaching into his mind to explore his true motivations for seeking employment. Deanna recognized the subtle traces of expression on her mother’s face that revealed she was not getting all that she wanted to know. It was like this sometimes with Terrans accustomed to a life serving the Alliance. They were inherently practiced at hiding their emotions from their masters. They didn’t even realize how deep they were able to keep those secrets from even the most adept telepaths. Deanna took some pleasure from the thought that she could touch Luc’s emotions in a way that her mother could not.

  But Deanna had more pressing concerns at the moment as she listened to her mother run through her list of standard follow-up questions. Even though Luc answered each inquiry perfectly, she could tell that her mother was not impressed. Unless Deanna stepped in, Luc would be gone before she had the chance to understand if her newly emerging ability was related to the man in front of her.

  “Well, we do have some other candidates to see,” Lwaxana said, wrapping up her part of the interview. Deanna knew that it was now or never.

  “Actually, Mother,” Deanna said, shocking both Troi women in the room, “I was about to extend an offer for Mr. Picard to join us. With a standard contract, of course.”

  “You were?” Lwaxana asked, looking Luc up and down again, clearly trying to get more of a read off him.

  “Yes,” Deanna said firmly. “He plays beautifully.”

  “I am certain that he does,” Lwaxana said. Deanna could feel her mother trying to break down the mental barriers to see inside her daughter’s mind. Deanna had never before in her life been allowed to make a substantive decision about the running of the Sacred Chalice. Lwaxana was sure to have questions about this unexpected development.

  Deanna knew she had to take a chance and let down her guard, allowing her mother inside. Remembering back to her lessons, Deanna sectioned off the surprising discovery she had made earlier and let her mother access the areas of her mind she considered safe.

  The moment those invisible walls came down, Lwaxana’s familiar voice filled her head. “What are you doing, Deanna?”

  “You keep insisting that I take on more of a role in day-to-day operations.” Deanna allowed her mother to take those words from her mind. “I thought I would start with some tasks of lesser importance.”

  “But I cannot get a full read on this one,” Lwaxana said. “I feel as if he is hiding something.”

  “Isn’t that true of everyone under the current regime?” Deanna silently asked in response as Luc looked on. He merely saw a mother and daughter staring each other down.

  “Fine,” Lwaxana replied aloud. “Mr. Picard, welcome to the Sacred Chalice. You will be directly under my daughter’s supervision. We’ll put you on a probationary period for the month. If it doesn’t work out, I have some Klingon friends always looking for help in their mines. Please don’t do anything to make me regret this.”

  “Thank you,” Luc said as he took Lwaxana’s hand again in a friendly gesture, not realizing that it only reminded Deanna of how close he’d come to losing the job.

  Deanna looked on with the thrill of anticipation, mixed with some concern. Though it wouldn’t have seemed so to an outside observer, she had just made a notable change in the nature of the relationship between herself and her mother. Lwaxana had already reacted with a thinly veiled threat. Deanna hoped that she wasn’t making a mistake.

  It had been three days since the hiring of Luc Picard, and Deanna had barely seen him since. Her mother kept finding tasks that would keep her away from the salon, as if Lwaxana suspected something was going on between them. Not that Deanna had any romantic inclinations toward the man. Her feelings for him fell squarely into a fatherly role—a relationship that had been missing from her life since her mother had chased away Ian Andrew Troi long ago.

  Deanna hadn’t been exposed to any more of Luc’s thoughts or emotions since the interview. She was practicing every day at sending out her own thoughts to tap into his, or to anyone else’s in the Chalice, but with no success. At the same time, she was building up her own mental strength for keeping her mother out of her mind. Lwaxana kept making attempts at sudden invasions with ever-increasing frequency. Deanna was getting stronger at blocking her mother out, but the mental exertions were exhausting her. Several staff members had commented on how tired Deanna had looked of late, each quietly blaming Lwaxana for the cause. They were only partially correct.

  It was the dream music that had woken Deanna so early in the morning. Another tune, different from the one Luc had played for her, had seeped into her sleeping mind until her eyes flitted open in the dark room. The morning silence greeted her, causing her to wonder what part of her subconscious had created the song.

  Deanna got out of bed and threw on a dressing gown for a morning stroll through the compound. She liked the early hours at the Chalice, as they were usually the most serene. The prior evening’s guests had gone, and the overnight visitors had usually fallen asleep or passed out by now. She only greeted a few staff members on her walk. They were all dressed far less conservatively than she was in her nightclothes.

  As she walked through the public areas of the Chalice, Deanna was startled by the sounds of the flute from her dream floating out from the garden. Her waking mind now recognized it as a lullaby that her father had sung to her as a child. It was impossible for her to have heard the music all the way in her private chambers but far too much of a coincidence not to explore. Besides, the tune could only be coming from one person.

  Deanna paused at the entryway to the garden. Luc’s back was to her. She didn’t want to disturb him while he played. Music was never scheduled for this time of the day. And Terran music was never on the schedule at all, which is why she assumed he had risen so early to play. Lwaxana was safely in her bed in the house farthest back in the compound.

  Deanna stood silently with eyes closed, allowing the music to flow into her on the gentle breeze. It shared the serene quality of the other piece that Luc had performed, but this one was faster and more playful. The notes seemed to skip over one another, racing around the garden and out to her. Deanna found herself swaying along with the tune, remembering her father—no, her entire family—sitting together in their private chambers. Her mother lying back on the divan. She and her sister on the floor, mimicking their father’s song. She lost herself to the memory, until the wave of emotion overwhelmed even her own deep feelings, nearly knocking her off her feet.

  Her eyes popped open as she grasped a trellis for support. The contentment that she now felt was not her own. It was a kind of peace she had never had in her own life. It washed over her, subduing her feelings of loss for her family and calming her momentary shock. But in that peacefulness, there was something else. Something darker, just underneath. If her mother were there, she would have immediately identified it. She would have forced her way into Luc’s mind to explain all of this away. But the feelings were shut off as quickly as they had come. And Deanna was, once again, restricted to her own emotions.

  Luc stopped playing abruptly, as if he had felt something as well. He turned to see Deanna watching him and jumped up from the bench he’d been sitting on.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I’d be alone at this hour.”

  “It’s hard to be alone anywhere in Mother’
s compound,” Deanna said, not bothering to explain on how many levels that statement was true. “But you don’t have to apologize. I rather enjoyed it. It was a song my father used to sing to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Luc said, seeing the sadness in hey eyes. “May I ask how he…?”

  “Oh, he’s not dead,” Deanna clarified. “Just gone. He wanted to do more than this.” She waved back to the Chalice and all it represented. “He wanted to work with the Terran rebels. Make a difference.”

  “That doesn’t seem like something your mother would have liked,” Luc said. He sat back on the bench, motioning for Deanna to join him.

  “It made her furious,” Deanna said, taking a seat. The early morning air smelled sweet in the garden. Part of that was the flowers. Part of it was the synthesized scents her mother had pumped in to add to the illusion of this Shangri-la. “But not because she’s complacent. She was afraid any contact with the rebels would jeopardize what we are doing here.”

  “Running a pleasure palace?”

  “Is that all you see?”

  “Is there more?”

  “The Sacred Chalice is known for the joys of the flesh,” Deanna admitted, knowing she was about to reveal a carefully guarded secret. But if Luc was going to stay at the Chalice beyond his probationary month, the truth was bound to come out. He seemed rather perceptive. Maybe he had figured it out already.

  “This flute you play,” she said, taking the instrument from him to examine it more closely. “You said that it’s from a forgotten race.”

  “The Kataan,” he said. “It’s known as a Ressikan flute.”

  She held it to her lips but did not play it. “The Chalice is a similar relic,” she said, handing the flute back to Luc. “As are its residents. Most people assume that Mother’s family found this desolate planet and claimed it as their own. But that’s not exactly true. In reality, we never left. You see, we are the last of the dying race of Betazoids who once called this planet home. We’ve been scattered throughout the galaxy for the past century, after the Terran Empire killed any race that exhibited powers they deemed dangerous.”

  “I had heard legends,” Luc said, “about a race of telepaths.”

  She did not respond.

  “So…you can read my mind? I can see how that would help the Chalice earn its reputation.”

  “Yes,” Deanna said as her eyes dropped to the floor. “And no. Our telepathic abilities are dying out as well. According to Mother, the more diluted our lineage becomes through marrying other races, the less we can tap into that power. I cannot access it at all. Which, I think, is the only thing that keeps her from making me take on more personal responsibilities with the Chalice guests. Until the ability is extinct, Mother has found what she believes is the best way to put it to use. To keep us all safe.”

  “You don’t agree?” Luc asked, reading the look on her face.

  Deanna considered the question. It was one that had popped up in her mind numerous times over the years. Every time it had, she’d managed to focus on other, more trivial matters. It was easier than coping with the reality. “My father didn’t,” she said. “He wanted us all to be more active in the resistance against the Alliance. Not that things were much better when the Terran race was in charge. But still, there’s a chance for improvement when people like my father are involved. I’m sure you can imagine how knowing what the leaders were thinking could be very useful.”

  Luc nodded.

  “My mother refused,” she continued. “She didn’t want to put her family at any more risk than she had to.”

  “What side did you come down on?” Luc pressed.

  “I didn’t have a side,” she explained. “I was too young. My sister—”

  “Sister?”

  “Kestra.” Deanna wasn’t sure why she was opening up to this stranger, but it felt right. It was always hard to think of her father, but Deanna rarely let her big sister into her memories. That pain was too intense. “She was old enough to notice the distance growing between my parents. She often joined in their fights, taking my father’s side. Like me, she didn’t have any telepathic powers, but she was willing to use whatever she could to help in the fight against the Alliance.”

  “But she was only a child, too?” Luc guessed.

  “When my father left, yes,” Deanna said.

  “Left?” Luc asked. “He just abandoned his family?”

  Deanna shrugged. “Abandoned. Forced out. We never knew. One day he was just…gone. Kestra and I didn’t know what to believe. Kestra stopped trusting our mother that day. I was just confused. Of course, Mother thought the fight died in Kestra with Father’s disappearance. But my sister was simply being silent. Waiting for an opportunity. Once she was old enough, Kestra stowed away on one of our guests’ ships. To search for our father.”

  “Do you know if she found him?” Luc asked.

  Deanna shook her head, fighting back the tears. She had never shared this story with anyone. Her mother had forbidden it. “Kestra was discovered as soon as they broke orbit. My mother told me she was executed immediately. Her body was dumped into space. I never had a chance to say good-bye.” Deanna pushed past the sadness, forcing a fake smile. “I know. It’s the kind of story you hear a lot these days.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less painful,” Luc acknowledged. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  Deanna straightened herself up, wiping away her tears in an attempt to be more professional. Or as professional as she could be while wearing a dressing gown. “I’m going to speak to Mother,” she said, rising from the bench. “I see no reason we can’t sprinkle in music from worlds other than Cardassia and Qo’noS during your musical sets. Every once in a while couldn’t hurt.”

  “I don’t know that your mother would agree,” Luc said.

  Deanna allowed a genuine smile. Luc had only been in residence for a couple of days, and he already had a handle on Lwaxana Troi. Deanna bid him good morning, as they both started down the opposite paths that led to their chambers. Deanna paused to watch him walk off, wondering why she hadn’t mentioned anything about tapping into his feelings. She’d been so open about everything else.

  In the moment Luc turned the corner, Deanna was struck by another mental link. This one was more powerful than all of the others. It was not an emotion. It was a memory, a picture, really. Jean-Luc Picard had an image of Deanna’s sister, Kestra, in his mind.

  The sight of the image in Deanna’s mind knocked the wind out of her. Her sister looked familiar yet different. She looked much older, her features care-worn. But that was impossible, since she lived only a few hours longer than Deanna’s last image of her.

  Deanna tried to explain it away as her imagination. A fleeting daydream brought about by her thoughts of her sister. The picture was there and gone so quickly that Deanna hardly had time for it to register. But this felt different from a memory. Even a powerful one. It had come to her through an external force, as when her mother entered her mind for private conversation. Certainly, having lived with a number of Betazoids over the years, Deanna was used to unwanted images coming into her head. But that was different. Those images assaulted her mind. This was something that she had pulled from Luc without him knowing. If asked to explain the difference, Deanna knew that she could not, but it was definitely a unique experience.

  Once she recovered from the unexpected image, Deanna decided that she had to talk to Luc about her emerging talent. If she was ever going to learn why she could tap into his mind in ways she could not with any other person, she was going to have to share the full truth with him. It was the only way she could determine what these thoughts of Kestra could mean.

  She considered talking to her mother first. That would be the logical course of action, since Lwaxana knew more about the Betazoid race than anyone else Deanna knew. But Deanna wasn’t functioning logically at the moment. She was running on pure emotion when she decided to follow Luc through the Chalice. It was logic, though, that stop
ped her from calling out to him when she saw him enter through a door that did not lead to the staff dormitory.

  Much of the grounds of the Sacred Chalice was off limits to the patrons, but only a few areas were forbidden to the staff. It was possible that Luc had made a wrong turn, being so new. But there was something suspicious about him making this particular wrong turn at a time when most of the staff were still in bed. Any doubts about it being a mistake were wiped away when Deanna watched him enter the small communications chamber. Only she and her mother knew the pass code required to gain access to the room.

  Deanna hurried to the door that had closed behind Luc. She leaned in, listening as she and her sister had done when they were children. Though the guest rooms and private suites in the Chalice were soundproofed for more discreet reasons, the same was not true of this room. It was an unfortunate design flaw of which her mother was still unaware. A viewscreen capable of long-range communications was set just inside the door. It linked with the computers in her mother’s office and private suite. Those were the only areas in the Chalice where one could communicate offworld.

  Within moments, Deanna was able to hear two voices on the other side of the door. It was always easier to hear her mother in there, as Lwaxana’s voice tended to carry. Whomever Luc was contacting understood the need to speak softly, though Deanna could hear the vocal tones of both voices. It was a woman. A very familiar woman.

  Paying no heed to the need for concealment, Deanna pounded the code into the keypad, opening the door. Even though she’d had her suspicions of what she would find, the image on the viewscreen caught her entirely off guard.

  “Kestra!” Deanna said with a gasp as she came into the room, making sure that the door shut behind her. Even in the shock of seeing her sister alive, Deanna knew that whatever was going on was something her mother could not know about. At least, not yet.

  “Hello, Deanna,” Kestra said from the viewscreen. She looked exactly like the flash of an image Deanna had seen earlier. Kestra’s blond hair was streaked with premature strands of gray. Her face was far more weathered than the youthful skin of the teen she was when they were last together. A scar ran along her cheek, suggesting that she had seen some hard times since her alleged death. While Deanna took in the appearance of her sister, Kestra seemed to be doing the same to her.