Reverse Mirror

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the universe, but the kids belong to me. Well, most of them, anyway.

Summary: In the Mirror Universe, the launch of a new stealth warship may be the only thing which can save the Empire from eventual collapse…

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The woman stretched out luxuriously on the bed, long black hair spilling over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with the harsh white sheets on which she slept. Her beautiful face was calm, relaxed.

Suddenly, her eyes began to dart about under closed the closed lids, a small frown appeared and her lips became pursed.

"No," she murmured, frown deepening. "No!"

She bolted upright, blue eyes-so strange with her chocolate complexion-filled with terror. She lifted a shaking hand and rested it over her racing heart, forcing herself to be calm.

The other hand reached for the small dagger she always kept hidden under the pillow. Touching the cold metal immediately calmed her, and she caressed the blade almost lovingly.

Frowning, she arose from the uncomfortable bed, sheets slipping from her smooth skin. She walked in the direction of the food dispenser to get a cup of coffee.

"Lights, 50," she rasped out. Walking to her computer terminal, she passed her full length mirror-a gift from the Betazoid ambassador to Vulcan- but did not stop to admire herself.

These dreams were getting out of hand, she thought to herself, running an angry hand through her hair. Not only that, but she was reasonably sure that they weren't hers.

"Computer, display crew manifest."

"Access to those files has been restricted." The woman resisted the urge to cringe at the computer's male monotone voice as she issued it with a new set of commands.

"Accessing."

She smirked. This ship really needed to stop at the nearest Imperial space station for a computer refit. Classified files should not be so easily accessible, she hadn't even had to use her special code to get at the information.

"Display all telepathic crewmembers." The thoughts of humans were naturally chaotic, she mused. It was not usually a problem to find out what one of them was thinking. Telepaths, on the other hand, knew better than to go around broadcasting their thoughts and dreams to others. And these dreams came from a telepath.

She's been on edge for the last few days, since they started. Now that she was thinking about it clearly, she realised that the dreams had to be transmitted by someone without enough experience to fortify their mental shields.

The woman shook her head in disgust as she scrolled down the list of names. Lack of ability in shielding one's thoughts was practically unheard of among telepathic races in the Empire.

Telepaths had the advantage in the fleet, as they could read their opponents' minds. One who did not learn this quickly had their career end on the wrong side of someone's dagger. Her blue eyes glittered. She would find this person, punish them from interrupting her sleep, and let them go with a warning.

Of course, that depended on their attitude. If they even dared to complain… her mind was so busy coming up with all sorts of dire punishments that she nearly jumped out of her seat when the COMM beeped.

"Bridge to Commander Den'l." Where the computer voice was a monotone, this male voice was harsh and demanding.

"Den'l here, sir." She replied, crisply. No need to upset the Admiral this morning.

"Report to Conference Room One, immediately."

"Aye, sir!"

Frowning, she turned toward the chronometer on her wall. What in Nine Fires could Admiral Stokes want at 03:00 hours? On her off day, no less?

She crossed the room, taking a clean uniform out of her cupboard and making sure it wasn't wrinkled.

There was only one reason he ever called her while they were off duty- a fact she still revelled in- but this time his tone was different. And, she mused, if it was a meeting of the previous kind, he would have informed her beforehand.

As she hurriedly pulled on her uniform, her confusion gave way to curiosity. She supposed many would have been overly paranoid in this situation, but then, they weren't as protected as she was.

Besides, she thought, pulling her shoulder length hair into a low ponytail, she wasn't plotting to assassinate the Admiral at her earliest convenience, and he knew this.

Standing in front of her mirror, she gave herself a once over. Her ice blue eyes roamed over the nearly skin-tight black halter mini dress with red pinstripes fanning out from the left shoulder to the waist.

They lingered for a while at the semicircle cutout of cloth that showed off her cleavage to perfection. They skipped over the gold command sash and ceremonial dagger at her waist and she frowned as she saw a smudge on her thigh high black boots and hastily wiped it off, light glinting off the gold of her wrist bangle and gold link earrings.

Walking over to the table, she snatched up the small silver dagger and pushed it inside her right boot before attaching the silver rank pins to right shoulder. Amazingly, this entire routine took less than three minutes.

Taking one more quick glance in the mirror, Commander Den'l strode out of her quarters, receiving the salutes from her two bodyguards with a nod, heading toward her meeting with Admiral Stokes….

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Well, it's just the prologue, but please let me know what you thought. It's my first time writing Star Trek fanfic, so any help would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!

r: Paramount owns the universe, but the kids belong to me. Most of them, anyway.

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