Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me; no profit made.
This was written for Bluetiger as part of the Holiday Fic Exchange at The Delphic Expanse fan community. It is a completely separate Mirror Universe story from my other long story, Scalene.
SHAKAIK: adj. of, relating to, or suggestive of a fiend; diabolical; extremely wicked or cruel; extremely bad.
The newly declared Empress, freshly showered and dressed in elaborate Imperial Robes of crimson and blue that she had created from the Defiant's replication system, marched toward the brig, flanked by two MACOs.
The crew, still adjusting to their new reality, stared and whispered as she made her way through the halls. She stopped briefly before entering the brig.
"I'll bet she's going to execute the Vulcan herself," murmured one of the guards. "She hates that bitch."
The Empress smirked and walked on, through the doors to the brig and down the corridor to the cell where T'Pol was being held. The Vulcan sat peacefully on the edge of her seat, hands in her lap.
Sato lowered the force field and stepped inside the cell.
"You've been a bad girl, T'Pol. A very, very bad girl," whispered the Empress, producing one of the Defiant's powerful hand weapons. Sato didn't need to turn around to know that the guards must be grinning from ear to ear. She'd hand-picked them especially for this assignment.
T'Pol gasped audibly as the Empress approached. Her features momentarily betrayed her fear before she composed herself, dropping to her knees.
Leveling the weapon, she stroked T'Pol's hair apologetically. "You don't know how much I'm going to regret this."
Not giving T'Pol time to react, the Empress spun and fired two clean shots, each guard glowing before becoming nothing more than a scorch mark on the floor. Turning back to T'Pol, she beamed despite the Vulcan's look of shock and disapproval.
"They were Archer's men," the Empress explained. "It's a pity, but they had to go."
Bending down, she drew the Vulcan into her embrace, brushing a delicate kiss across her cheek. With a giddy sigh, she said, "We did it."
"Ow!" Hoshi hissed, pulling the errant needle from her finger. Wiping it on her pants, she said, "Are you sure this is going to work?"
T'Pol continued mashing the pieces of Vulcan cactus in the bowl. She would later strain it for the juices. "Assassination was a common means of advancement on my planet as well, before Surak civilized us to the ways of logic," she explained. "Fortunately for you and me, some members of our society have clung to the old ways."
"And all I do is slip this into Archer's drink?" Hoshi asked, looking over into the bowl.
T'Pol nodded. "It acts very quickly." She stopped, glanced at Hoshi, then looked away.
"What?"
"I find the thought of him touching you that way disagreeable."
Hoshi placed a reassuring hand over T'Pol's. "It's okay. Really. I told you before, he's a fantastic lay. It's just the fact that I hate him that makes it so awkward."
T'Pol stopped again, glaring at the human.
"Don't look at me that way," Hoshi said. "It just makes things harder."
T'Pol generally had a high tolerance for pain, but this time she was unable to control the wince elicited by the tension on her scalp.
"Hold still," she heard the Empress say from behind her. "Beauty is pain. Vulcan's new regent should have every hair in place."
T'Pol closed her eyes. The moment Hoshi had briefed her on her plan, she'd been dreading this conversation. "Are you certain that's the wisest role for me? I'm certain my skills can be best used-"
"Don't worry," Hoshi soothed. "We won't be separated for long. I'll be there for you every step of the way." With that, Hoshi placed the final hairpin. T'Pol's chair spun to meet Hoshi's satisfied smile. "Go look."
T'Pol got up slowly and walked to the full length mirror. In it, she saw an elegantly dressed, high-born Vulcan woman with intricate braids and a silky gown in the amethyst color of Vulcan sunset. Illogical though it was, she still had a hard time accepting that it was her own reflection. She had long ago abandoned the life that came with dress such as this.
Hoshi brushed a finger down the back of T'Pol's exposed neck. "You look every inch a lady of Vulcan," she whispered, "and I know you'll make me proud."
T'Pol relaxed, and she started to feel something...strange. She felt like a true citizen of Vulcan for the first time since she joined Starfleet.
"I trust you," continued Hoshi, "and you know I need you to bring your people into the fold. If they join the Romulans, they'll be worse off than they are now. You know that."
The planet's atmosphere was slowly sucking the Klingon ship to its doom. Ironically, that wasn't what killed the scant Klingon survivors. Upon learning Enterprise wasn't sending a rescue party, Major Reed had reacted by tracking down and killing all the Klingons. A few went mercifully quick. The rest he savored slowly.
Having run out of Klingons, Reed turned his attention to his two colleagues. Apparently, he wished to continue spending the last hours of his life engaged in his favorite pastime - torture.
T'Pol had hidden herself away in a storage locker, phase pistol at the ready.
T'Pol's keen hearing and smell recognized Sato's panicked approach. Instinctively, T'Pol opened the door and grabbed her, covering her mouth with her hands and dragging her into the locker. Sato started to fight, flailing and kicking, but when she recognized T'Pol she relaxed slightly.
"If you remain calm," said T'Pol, "We will have a higher likelihood of evading Reed."
"He's crazy..." Hoshi stammered. "...tried to persuade him..."
T'Pol said nothing, but made no attempt to conceal her disdain. She wasn't blind to the fact that Sato did all of her "persuading" on her back. She was also worried Sato's whimpering and heavy breathing would betray their position and ruin the one advantage they had. Finally, she said, "Give me your hand."
"What?"
T'Pol didn't ask a second time. She took Sato's hand, turned it palm-up, and began working a pressure point in the center. Hoshi's breathing slowed, and her shivering stopped.
Unexpectedly, Sato's mind opened up, and her emotions began to flow freely. Humans normally didn't have such capacity for telepathy, but Sato did. T'Pol sensed her fear, her gratitude toward T'Pol...and her intense desire for safety not just in this moment but for always. It was this last part that touched a chord in T'Pol. Sato might be mercenary, but her motives were radically different from what T'Pol had assumed. Unlike Vulcan women, human women had few options except to latch themselves to powerful men. To T'Pol's surprise, Sato hated that aspect of her life and wanted to be free of it.
"If Reed finds us, will you kill me quickly?" asked Sato, gesturing to the phaser, her voice now steady.
"I'd rather kill him," replied T'Pol.
Heavy footsteps came from outside the storage locker. Both women tensed, their bodies scolding them for the fact their voices may have betrayed them.
Hoshi's fingers curled around T'Pol's.
T'Pol spared a perplexed gaze from their entwined hands to Hoshi's face, which was intently watching the locker door. T'Pol gave the matter no further thought as she took aim, estimating where Reed's torso would be located as he'd tear through.
There was banging and creaking as their stalker struggled with the door.
T'Pol hesitated as Hoshi squeezed her fingers. Light seeped into the locker and revealed the face of Jonathan Archer.
"I found Reed," he informed them without preamble. "We need to get out of here."
Unseen by Archer, Hoshi dropped T'Pol's hand. Hoshi beamed. "I knew Max would send you."
Archer's face fell. T'Pol arched a brow.
Three days later, T'Pol wore similar Vulcan robes as she stood in the new Empress's office overlooking San Francisco Bay. The spacious, but relatively small, room sat behind the expansive throne room where she had been receiving a stream of sycophantic well-wishers.
Only members of Hoshi's inner circle, her closest companions and advisers, were permitted in the office.
Hoshi spun around in her oversized, gilded chair. She grinned mischievously. "You want to try it?"
T'Pol pressed her lips together. "I believe it suits you more."
Hoshi's eyes fixed over T'Pol's shoulder. "Come on in, Travis," she said.
Mayweather entered the office, smiling at Hoshi but not before casting a disdainful glance at T'Pol. "You sent for me, Empress?"
"Yes," Hoshi answered, not signaling for him to sit. She didn't intend to keep him there long. And it amused her. "I have a very important assignment for you."
Mayweather visibly swelled with pride. "How may I serve you, Empress?"
Hoshi barely hid her disgust at his puppy-like desire to please. She half expected him to have an accident on the floor any minute. Recovering, she rose, slinking over to him, sliding her palm along his chest and appealing to his ego. "I need you to go to Qo'noS and negotiate border disputes and dilithium mining rights. Tucker tells me that if we're to build more ships like the Defiant, we're going to need plenty of it."
Hoshi watched as Mayweather's brow furrowed and T'Pol's went up. "Negotiate,Empress?" he asked, dumbstruck. "With the Klingons?"
Rather than punishing him for questioning her, she pouted sensuously. "You're the only man for the job, Travis. I need you."
Mayweather swallowed. "When do I leave?"
Hoshi grinned, dropping her arms to her sides. "Immediately." She returned to her desk. "Remember, the Empire is depending on you. I expect you to report in when you arrive."
Crestfallen, Mayweather saluted her and backed toward the door. "Yes, Empress."
T'Pol watched him go, a small frown intruding on her features. She turned back to Hoshi. "You know what the Klingons will do to him."
Hoshi became serious. "His head itches for a crown," she said, "and I share my power with no man."
Hoshi's hands shook as she moistened a damp cloth and headed back into her cabin. She hadn't been this nervous in she didn't know how long, but she was trying to keep it together for T'Pol's sake. She pressed the cloth on the Vulcan's forehead and soothed her.
"So you need to mate or die?" asked Hoshi calmly, almost teasingly.
T'Pol nodded. "Must be a male. Must be soon," she whispered.
Hoshi brushed a hair out of T'Pol's face, and she felt a surge of pity. She knew the Vulcan well enough to know she didn't want this, didn't want to choose one of the males on Enterprise. They had agreed it had to be an officer and had to be someone who could keep his mouth shut.
"We've ruled out all the Vulcans," said Hoshi, "Can't have one of them trying to bond with you. We've ruled out Forrest-too awkward. We've ruled out Reed-too insane. Mayweather-too dumb. That leaves Archer and Tucker."
T'Pol shook her head.
"Archer's in love with you...he'd be the wrong one..."
Hoshi smiled. T'Pol's logic had gotten a bit fuzzy since the pon farr hit, but she was right about Archer.
"Tucker, then," said Sato. "He's good, too. As good as Archer, I promise. And unlike Archer he won't make demands. He'll take what he can get."
T'Pol gazed at her, plaintive and panic-stricken.
Hoshi placed a hand over hers. "You'll be okay," she soothed. "I'll be watching the whole time. I promise."
T'Pol stood in her Vulcan clothing, at ease, next to the Empress. The Empress lounged in the throne while she daintily sampled some Denobulan candy.
"Yummy," she said before asking, "What's happening with the mining strike on the Moon?"
"Most of the workers have agreed to your offer of a five percent pay raise and health care benefits for their families," replied T'Pol, "but several hundred holdouts continue to block the entrance of the main shaft, demanding improved safety measures."
Hoshi swallowed the last bit of a truffle of some kind. "They have a good point. Training miners is expensive, and the death rate is unacceptable. And it's not just a practical, economic issue. They aren't slaves. They're citizens of the Empire. They should be safe."
T'Pol nodded. "Shall I tell them their demands will be met?"
"Yes," she said, "Then have the mine blown up with them in it. I like their point. I don't like their tactics."
T'Pol nodded again, and she gestured at one of the Macos. "Make it so," said the Vulcan.
The Maco exited.
"So, what's next?" asked Hoshi.
"You have been sent an unusual gift from the Klingon Empire," said T'Pol, "It's been inspected, but the inspectors believe you will not like the contents."
"What do you believe?" came the reply.
"I believe you will be most satisfied with the gift, on multiple levels."
An attendant entered the room. In his hands, the man carried a medium sized-wooden box, ornately carved in Klingon script. He knelt before the Empress, his hands shaking.
Hoshi got up from her seat and stepped forward. She opened the box personally, and it emitted a foul stench-something like the cheap preservative formaldehyde. Inside the box lay the head of Travis Mayweather.
"Yuck," said Hoshi, shutting the box, "Somebody go bury this."
The attendant scurried away, taking the box with him.
"One thing about the Klingons," said Hoshi with a smirk, "they sure know how to make a statement...but I do, too."
Hoshi stood up. Her expression changed from smug to angry.
"Now that the Klingons have insulted us by murdering our ambassador in cold blood, we must send them a message. All disputed territories on the Klingon border will be annexed by us. All Klingon property within our rightful borders will be seized. I won't declare war, but they likely will. Any worlds that side with us will be granted special protection."
T'Pol's heart swelled with pride. Hoshi was proving a brilliant politician and strategist. It would not be hard to convince the Vulcans it was logical to ally themselves with her.
Hoshi lay sprawled on the floor of her newly assigned cabin, her head in T'Pol's lap. T'Pol gently stroked her hair and whispered soothing words to her.
T'Pol had lost track of how long Hoshi had been weeping, but she knew that soon both of them would be missed. Archer had been barking orders to everyone and strutting around the bridge, intoxicated by his new authority.
"All I wanted was a house in Brazil," whispered Hoshi, "and a peaceful life. You would have loved it there."
"That dream is over," said T'Pol, "and now we must deal with Archer. He has ambitions beyond just captaining this ship."
Hoshi looked up at T'Pol, and she felt a slight chill. There was a coldness in Hoshi that she had never seen before.
"You need to start talking to the Vulcans. They won't stand for Archer becoming too powerful. The other aliens, too," said Hoshi, "I'm going to see what I can find out about his plans - from him personally."
T'Pol suppressed the emotion that her words elicited. Hoshi's plans, though distasteful, were logical. The more information they had, the easier it would be to thwart Archer, who still conveniently believed the two women despised each other.
T'Pol had looked all over the Imperial Apartments, but she couldn't find the Empress. She finally inhaled deeply, and she caught a scent of Hoshi coming from the bathroom. Instinctively, she sensed Hoshi wasn't well and rushed toward the shut door.
The sounds of vomiting emanated from behind the door. When the noise had ceased, T'Pol gently knocked.
"You are ill. May I contact one of the Imperial physicians? Or help you in any way?"
She heard water running for a moment, and then the door opened to reveal a pale, tired-looking Empress.
"The physician can't help me with this," she said, slowly making her way to an ornate chair in the corner.
"Were you poisoned?" asked T'Pol.
Hoshi shook her head and gestured for T'Pol to approach her. Hoshi's neck held more tension than usual, and T'Pol began putting pressure on various neural nodes.
"I'm not poisoned, but it could be Archer's revenge from beyond the grave," laughed Hoshi.
It took a moment for her words to register, then T'Pol's eyes widened. She walked around and knelt next to her friend, reaching out but not quite touching her flat stomach. Hoshi grinned, confirming T'Pol's suspicions.
"Are you sure it's Archer's? Could it be Mayweather's? Or Forrest's?" asked T'Pol.
Hoshi grabbed her hand and placed it on her stomach.
"Does it matter? It's mine, and it's going to be the heir to the throne. He or she will most certainly need Aunt T'Pol around as well."
T'Pol closed her eyes and opened a mind link, not only with Hoshi but with the child. It was a boy, she realized, and he already loved his mother.
She suppressed a twinge of jealously as well. She had long ago abandoned the idea of a traditional Vulcan life and the motherhood that went with it. She would have to be content to help raise Hoshi's child.
"You know," said Hoshi softly, "When you were going through your pon farr, I sensed your sadness about not becoming a mother."
T'Pol locked eyes with her. She hadn't said anything about how empty she had felt, how she had even wished that Tucker could impregnate her. Reproduction, after all, was the goal of pon farr. That the urge hadn't broken with the fever was something T'Pol felt best kept to herself.
"I didn't want to say anything until I was sure it was possible," continued Hoshi, "but I wanted to help you. So I called in a few favors."
T'Pol's head tipped as she tried to comprehend what Hoshi was talking about.
The Empress pushed the tab on the comm. "Send her in."
The office doors parted, and an aide entered, and before T'Pol could react, a small, squirming bundle wrapped in a pink blanket was pushed into her arms. T'Pol's mouth opened to speak, but she found no words. She looked from the blanket to Hoshi, who was swelling with pride and self-satisfaction.
"Go ahead," Hoshi said playfully. "Open it!"
T'Pol parted the opening of the blanket to get a better look at the baby's face. Pointed ears, her nose...blue eyes and blond hair.
Her eyes widened. She had read something of the history of her counterpart in the other universe and the tragedy of her and Tucker's first child.
"She's healthy," said Hoshi, "I made sure of it. Phlox created her, but we stashed her in a lab here on Earth."
"I still don't understand," T'Pol managed.
"The Empire needs to be unified," Hoshi said, as though patiently explaining to a small child. "Earth and Vulcan must be brought together in a partnership if we're ever to meet that goal. This child is the key to that partnership."
The infant smiled and cooed as T'Pol looked down, trying to separate her maternal instincts from the overload of information she'd just received.
"Besides," Hoshi continued, "the arrangement will have certain...advantages—for both of us."
T'Pol's head snapped up. Before she could ask Hoshi for an explanation, the doors hissed open again, and she heard a familiar Southern drawl behind her.
"What can I do for you, Empress?"