Chapter 2

MIRROR

ISS Enterprise Borg Saucer

Jenice Manheim got to her feet, as a crowd gathered around silently. "He's dead", she declared, stating the obvious. Next to the deceased security man's body lay a bloody dagger and a spreading pool of blood. The man's tunic had been cut crudely down the front, and a gruesome, odd symbol had been carved over his heart, visible for the onlookers to see. There were murmurs and whispers, but not much concern for the most recently fallen comrade.

M watched from outside the circle of observers and was less interested in the fact that yet another unnamed crew member had been murdered in the space of one week, and more fascinated by the attitude of Jenice Manheim, which could best be described as all business.

As the crowd dispersed, M caught up with her. "Hey," he said, sidling up alongside, as she marched through the corridors, no doubt on her way to report directly to Admiral Riker. It was now widely known that Riker had taken Jenice as a lover, and since she had basically come out of nowhere in recent weeks, it was assumed she was also spying for him.

She barely looked at him. "What do you want?"

"I was thinking we might be able to put our heads together...you know, make some plans?"

She stopped and fixed him with a disgusted expression. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're sleeping with Riker...I'm sleeping with Troi. Come on, we've got to be able to make something interesting happen here."

Jenice simply looked at him coldly. "My loyalty is to Admiral Riker."

"Bullshit!"

"I'm not familiar with expressions from the Lesser universe...but I am familiar with Jack Crusher, and you are nothing but a cheap replica of him."

M grinned. "Oh, you're a fan of Jack?"

"I hate him. And if I thought anyone would care, I would kill you just for the resemblance."

"Just like you killed that guy back there?"

"Who said I did?"

"No one... but you were at the scene."

"I was on orders from the Admiral."

"Right. So...what exactly is it you do for Admiral Riker?"

Jenice allowed a smirk to play over her lips. "What do you want, Faux Jack?"

He threw up his hands. "Does everyone call me that now? Who made that up anyway?"

Jenice shrugged. She was clearly uninterested in the origins of nicknames, or really any small talk. So M decided to hit upon what she was really interested in.

"I'm not buying the act with Riker. I saw how crazy you were back in that detention cell. You wanted to kill Beverly with your bare hands. There's only one person who inspires that kind of passion from you, and that's Jean-Luc."

"Your point?"

"You may not believe this, but I want to protect him."

"Jean-Luc can protect himself. He doesn't need anyone for that."

"That's not what I heard. Troi's got him down in detention, and it's not looking good for him. You see, he and I...we're Lesser, right? We're not used to the effects of the Pain Room-"

"Agony Booth," she corrected him.

"-Or whatever it's called. She's had him in there for days. Rumor is he can't even talk, he's so messed up. And like you, I want to keep him safe."

"I don't believe you," she said, moving closer to him. "And if you approach me again with your lies, I will end your life...do you hear me?"

M raised his hands and backed up slowly. "Loud and clear." Once she had turned to leave, he broke into a satisfied smile.

Wesley heard the screams even before the guard showed up to release him. A newbie, he thought. Someone unaccustomed to the effects of the Agony Booth. Meanwhile, by the time the guard arrived, Wesley's own pain was beginning to wear off. He'd developed coping mechanisms over the years, and all things considered, they worked. So as his breathing slowed, he was able to listen more carefully to the screams of the occupant of the cell a few doors down from him.

Then it hit him. He knew that voice well but never had he personally heard the man so humiliated, so defeated. It was revelatory, and for Wesley, who had suffered so much at the hands of Jean-Luc Picard, it was a triumph. The bizarre thing was, Picard wasn't unfamiliar with the Booth. Not in the least. Wesley's mother had thrown Picard in there enough times over the years, as had various other rivals, and the best way to describe Picard's general demeanor was that he was hardened to even the most extreme forms of torture. His brain was seemingly impervious to the efforts of Troi's mind probes-or worse. And yet, he sounded at the end of his rope.

Wesley's nimble mind began to race with ideas. He'd seen his mother briefly, and she, like Wesley, was currently at Troi's mercy. Of course, Troi had charged him with somehow garnering Beverly's loyalty for her, which he had figured was nearly impossible. But did his mother know that Picard was also on board this ship? How, he wondered, had the wily captain been captured? It threw an interesting but dangerous variable into the equation.

"Come on, kid," the guard growled, as the energy barrier came down. Wesley staggered forward, and the guard grabbed his arm roughly. He recognized the guard as Pool, one of Picard's cronies from way back. The man was stupid and violent, and Wesley knew better than to even bother to struggle. He needed to conserve his energy. But as he was marched down the hall, he offered a little resistance passing the cell, where the roaring screams had turned to whimpers.

"Hey, is that who I think it is?" he ventured, craning his neck toward the cell in question.

The guard gave him an unfriendly shove. "Mind your business, you little turd!"

Wesley shrugged but was undeterred. "Okay, okay...I was just wondering how they captured him, you know?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the guard sneered.

"Well, yeah..." Stupid Red Shirt.

"Why don't you ask your Mommy?"

"Take me to her, and I will."

The guard suddenly whirled Wesley around, gripping him tightly by his collar.

"Bloodshed is coming, so you'd better pick a side, Crusher," the guard hissed, his eyes wild and fanatical. "Before you wind up dead in the middle."

"This is the second incident this week, Jenice. I thought you were going to be my eyes and ears down on the lower decks!" Admiral Riker circled his unofficial subordinate suspiciously. By "incident", Riker meant that two of his personal security men had been murdered in just days.

Jenice grabbed his hand, stopping him. "Admiral, if you want me to carry out your wishes and keep the crew in line, I will need some real authority."

Riker looked her in the eye. "Tell me you're done with Picard. I need to know you have loyalty to me only."

She encircled her arms around his waist. "The Lesser Picard's done. Commander Troi has him at her mercy."

He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "I hope you're not lying, Jenice. Because I don't want to have to kill you." She remained silent, but her gaze didn't waver from his. He suddenly laughed, and clapped his hands, walking away from her. "I'll make you my personal security chief. Find out who's disloyal, and bring them to me."

"I know it has scarcely been a week, but it's almost as though we've known each other for years, Captain. After all...I know basically everything about you now that I need to." Commander Deanna Troi sat forward with her elbows on the table. The man in front of her was a mess. He was dirty, disheveled, didn't smell very good, and was barely able to utter a word. And still, despite her gloating, he continued to resist her. She'd learned everything about the Borg that he knew...which was substantial. And yet, she was not satisfied.

There was something missing from the Borg catalog of information contained in his brain. Or perhaps, it was not missing, but hidden. Troi was an expert and a powerful telepath. For the average humanoid to keep a single thought from her was nearly impossible. And though sickbay had thoroughly scanned his body for foreign technology, the most they'd discovered was a mechanical heart, and deep scarring from what she now knew was his capture by the Borg of his universe. And yet, she was beginning to suspect that some kind of advanced technology was at play, preventing her full intrusion into his mind. Without his secrets, she'd have to fight the Borg at a disadvantage.

She reached out and took his hand with deceptive gentleness. "Shall we go back to the Booth? I need your full cooperation, Captain, but I dare say, I'm not receiving it."

He shook his head "no" vigorously, but didn't speak.

She smiled. "Very well, then let' stay in this room, and play a new game... Locutus."