Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of it spin-off works.

I write this for it's entertainment value alone and hope this form of

imitation dose not offend anyone. There is absolutely no exchange of

money involved in the writing or posting of this work.

This is a fanfic based on the idea of what would have happened

if Cochran had missed the window to be noticed by the Vulcans. The

first few chapters will probably jump a little in setting up for the first

real story. So I hope you enjoy it.

In A Mirror Sparkley Chapter 1 : New Beginning

As Zefram Cochran sat in the bar getting drunk, again, he

wondered where the plan had gone so wrong. It had been a week since

the first ship in human history had traveled faster than light. By now he

was expecting to be rolling in his new found fortune on a beach

somewhere. Anywhere!

Instead "The Phoenix" was almost ready for her second flight,

an undertaking Cochran would not be aboard for. He intended to be

safely in the command center letting Lily do the crazy flying stuff this

time.

But before Zefram could order his next bottle, a man sat down

across from him, a fresh bottle in his hand. Judging by his clothes the

newcomer was certainly not local. Although identifying a persons

departure point by his clothes was nearly impossible since the war.

It had actually become easier to pick out those outfits that didn't belong.

Yet Cochran would still have bet his ship this guy did not get

to colder climates much. His clothing was layers of thin material

designed to be removed, or added to, as necessary. This indicated a

lack of the heavier coats of local fashion in the man's wardrobe.

"Mr. Cochran, my name is Joseph Carter. I represent a man

named Randell Slade. My employer would like to speak with you

about acquiring your ship." The stranger had a voice that could

charm the most hardened heart on the planet. That and the bottle

helped, maybe traveling faster than light made a person impatient.

Two days later Zefram Cochran was lying on a beach sipping

a tall mixed drink while the small financial empire known as the

Slade Foundation swung into full gear to understand and reproduce

the drive principles of the first human craft to ever break the light barrier.

Randell Slade stood on the catwalk overlooking the vast work

area. He and Cochran were alike in many ways, but Slade would never

retire. His ambitions, as with most business men, could never truly be

realized. Because of this, his corporate giant would soon be expanding

off of it's home ball of mud. The "True Space Age" was about to begin.