The resemblance is uncanny.

2256

When Georgiou first heard that Michael Burnham had returned from the dead and retaken the Shenzhou, an imprisoned Lorca in tow, she actually believed it. For a single heart-stopping moment, fool that she was, she thought: Michael has come back to me.

Then the political instincts that had seen her through eighteen years on the throne kicked in again, and she began thinking things through logically.

Had she actually been double-crossing Lorca this whole time, as Georgiou had hoped she was before she shot down Michael's shuttle? But no, there was enough surveillance footage of her cozy in his bed, and why wouldn't she have turned him in before he made his final moves? Georgiou had asked essentially asked Michael this question directly on that last day before the Charon's maiden flight. That way was shut.

Or was Michael trying to work her way back into Imperial favor by double-crossing Lorca NOW? In which case, she would probably be angry about the fact that Georgiou had shot down her shuttle, and Georgiou would have to watch out for her attempts to get revenge.

Or … was this some scheme between Michael and Lorca again? Were they planning on double-crossing her together? But Tilly on the Discovery had been the one to find Michael and deliver her to the Shenzhou.

Georgiou hadn't publicized the news of Michael's involvement in Lorca's treason — as far as the average Starfleet officer knew, Captain Burnham really had been shot down over Priors World by one of Lorca's traitors. But Tilly knew; she'd been present that day. If this Michael had passed Tilly's inspection, then Tilly must have been reasonably convinced that Michael did not pose enough of a threat to be a risk to Georgiou.

(She could have suborned Tilly too, Georgiou thought, but that way led endless paranoia.)

Fine. The best-case scenario was that Michael had come to her senses about Lorca and was returning to the fold. In the Empire, ambition was not necessarily a crime — only failed ambition. Now that Michael had shown signs of "independent thinking", she would have to be handled carefully — but Michael wouldn't be the first upstart subordinate Georgiou had managed, or the first one with aspirations of revenge.

The Empire's campaign against the alien rebels was making great strides, and Imperial Intelligence had recently determined the Fire Wolf's base was on Harlak. Georgiou would send Michael there: Lorca's rhetoric had been anti-alien, so this ought to be sufficiently inoffensive to her. This was also an important enough mission to show Imperial favor that would, critically, keep Michael away from the center of power while Georgiou waited to determine what her motives really were.

Georgiou hadn't let herself doubt her decision over Priors World, but now she was second-guessing herself at every turn.

In the Empire, there was a very thin line between initiative and disobedience, and from there rebellion was just a stone's throw away.

Michael, according to reports from the Shenzhou, had chosen the first. Instead of simply bombarding the planet from orbit, as ordered, she and her bodyguard had beamed down to the planet's surface. Her stated justification was that she wanted to obtain more intelligence from their camp that would help the Empire crush the rebellion faster — presumably she wanted to demonstrate her loyalty and competence? But Michael should have known that immediate obedience would be a more effective in her current delicate position.

Georgiou would have suspected Michael was colluding with the rebels somehow, though she knew no one involved in Lorca's plots would ever deign to cooperate with an alien. Had Michael's time in exile hunting down Lorca changed her so much that she would stoop that low?

That might not be her intention, but that was the effect. The longer Michael waited to bombard the planet, the greater the chance that the rebels would escape. That might have been Michael's goal, no official collusion needed; there was surely some faction in the Empire who would benefit from having the anti-rebel campaigns stretch out longer.

It was possible (technically so, with the chances ever decreasing) that this was all a misunderstanding, but Georgiou needed to get on-scene to make her own judgments what Michael was playing at. She ordered the Charon to move to the Harlak system. If nothing else, she'd had ample prior demonstrations that her flagship's phaser/missile banks were more than sufficient to slag a planet.

As on Priors World, the Charon reduced a planet harboring rebels to ruin.

And as on Priors World, Michael looked so surprised to see Georgiou, though unlike last time, she was silent now. What else had she expected? Had she already forgotten that Lorca's uprising had failed and her mother still ruled as Emperor?

Lorca looked worse for wear, but all of Georgiou's attention was focused on the image of Michael standing on her bridge. Her maternal instinct, long buried, noted that Michael looked well considering she'd been on the run. But she was was both prodigal daughter and insubordinate officer, and Georgiou was Emperor before she was a mother. There would be a time to reconcile later, but this was not it.

"When I give an order, I do not expect to be ignored," she said coldly. Michael ignored the hint, still standing dumbstruck aboard her ship. Was she so overcome by the memory of what had happened the last time they met that she had forgotten even the most basic of formalities? (Or was this the first declaration of rebellious intent?)

Michael finally bowed to acknowledge Georgiou's authority, but that reverence, coming as it did after an explicit demand instead of being freely given, didn't quite ring true. The seed of doubt that Georgiou had tried to suppress continued to grow.

After the Charon's inaugural flight/maiden voyage to Priors World, Georgiou had been very explicit about what the official record should say about Michael's apparent demise. Still, not even Imperial authority could fully suppress the human urge to gossip, and she knew there were rumors circulating. The attendees for her first public audience with a returned Michael Burnham were therefore deliberately chosen from those who had been on duty on the Charon that day. This was a public statement designed to show that the Emperor and her dear daughter truly had reconciled, that Captain Burnham was fully restored to favor.

(And if Georgiou had to reverse herself on Michael's loyalties later, well, every Terran subject lived and served on Imperial sufferance. Michael would be no exception.)

The attendees in the throne room bowed and scraped, as they had to. Michael performed her expected role this time as she had not aboard the Shenzhou, mouthing the usual formulas about delivering a prisoner.

Lorca, of course, was unrepentant, but they all bowed in the end, one way or another. Georgiou refused to let his intransigence mar this glorious day for her. Lorca owed the Empire at least seventeen years of pain, for the seventeen years of betrayal that had come before. There would be time enough to devise an appropriately painful and innovative torture for him later; for now, he would get softened up in the agonizers.

"Everything will be as it was before," she told Michael, and she wished she believed it.

Georgiou's first chance to talk to Michael privately came at dinner that day. She sat Michael in the place of honor at her left hand and fed her out of her own bowl, as befitted an honored daughter and guest. Both the emperor and the mother wanted answers; it was time to see what Michael had to say for herself.

Georgiou the mother wanted to know: where did she go wrong? Was it something that Georgiou did, could she have made a different choice? She'd given Michael everything the Empire had to offer; what else was there?

"I earned my command on the Shenzhou," said Michael, as if Georgiou hadn't pulled strings to have that particular ship assigned to her. Michael had done well in the Academy, but no one thrived in the Empire without a highly placed patron. Many of Michael's Academy classmates had had parents in Starfleet as well. But if she wanted to play it that way, very well.

Georgiou the Emperor wanted to know: Michael provided no explanation for her actions, or lack thereof, at Harlak. Nor had she turned over any intelligence that would explain why she had bothered to beam down to the planet's surface. Had she already turned over that intelligence to her fellow conspirators, or had she merely lost her drive and edge during her time in exile?

"You've grown cruel," was Michael's only response, as if Georgiou could have responded any other way to the attempts on her throne and her life. If she were cruel, then that was what Michael and Lorca had made of her.

Fool that she was, Georgiou had assumed that Michael had returned because she'd come to her senses and turned on Lorca. As Michael continued to speak, Georgiou was forced to reconsider that foundational belief.

"Lorca's men are aboard this ship," said Michael, but she had been there that day on the Discovery when Georgiou had announced the purges on the Charon were complete. It was depressingly possible that the remnants of Lorca's conspiracy had managed to assign some people loyal to them to the ship, or suborn existing crew members, but how would Michael, who had been in exile for a year, happen to know this unless she were still conspiring with Lorca?

Had they come back in some misbegotten attempt to seek out revenge or further their plots? If they'd been willing to put their ambitions aside, Michael and Lorca could very well have lived together in hiding. Georgiou still despised the thought, but Michael had made her choice.

"Please, Philippa," said Michael, making her final appeal — but to "Philippa", when not so long ago (a year ago) at Priors World it had been "mother".

Abruptly, Georgiou realized it didn't matter why Michael had come back. It didn't really matter. Since her return, Michael had disobeyed her over Harlak; she had disowned her as mother; and now, in addressing her by name, Michael denied her any title or relationship. Even being addressed as "Emperor" would have been preferable.

Georgiou did not recognize her daughter, and this woman with Michael's face and name clearly did not recognize her or her authority either, as mother or Emperor alike. There was nothing left between them.

The left-hand seat had proved to be the traitor's seat, after all.

Georgiou the Emperor called for the guards to take the traitor away as Georgiou the mother prepared herself again for what had to be done.

This time, Georgiou didn't bother with assembling a full audience in the throne room. It was the middle of ship's night, so she simply summoned the minimum of her Council needed to bear witness to the execution for the record.

Lorca was already prisoner in the Charon's brig, and as Georgiou had promised, his life would be long and unpleasant. However, she didn't have the heart to impose that same fate on Michael. The quick execution was all the mercy Georgiou could grant; the clean ending was a kindness to herself as well as to Michael.

Michael was uncowed by the premise of her death. At last, Georgiou recognized something of her lost daughter; unfortunate that it had come too late.

"You don't love me because you don't know me," said Michael — a strange choice of last words. Georgiou's confusion only grew as she claimed to be from another universe entirely; was this some last, desperate attempt to avoid her death by pleading insanity? But very well, Georgiou would indulge this.

Eling reached into Michael's pocket and handed over the supposed proof — a small metal object. Georgiou accepted it and —

This was the insignia of Starfleet in the alternate universe that the Defiant came from.

Georgiou turned away to hide her face. Her hands were shaking as she turned the badge over: her own name stared at her from the back. Georgiou didn't need Michael's words to recognize that this had belonged to her alternate, the one who had been betrayed by her own Michael. If their bond crossed universes, so did their betrayal.

The scanner's results told her what she already knew: Michael was speaking the truth. That left only one possible way forward. Not since the day she claimed the Imperial throne had Georgiou felt such clarity.

With effort, she kept her voice dismissive as she said, "What a quaint concept. 'Parallel universes.'"

There was a discus weapon mounted by the throne, locked to her biosigns. Georgiou reached for it smoothly and then threw it; the weapon sailed on a clean arc through the heads of her Council and Michael's two guards before returning to her hand. The corpses collapsed a moment later.

Eling, the sole survivor, was rapidly dismissed, satisfied with the promise of the governorship of Andoria.

And then she and the alternate Michael were left alone, with all pretenses between them stripped away at last.

Perhaps this was how animals and small children felt when looking in the mirror at their reflections. This Michael was disturbing in her familiarity and dangerous in her foreignness. Her imitation of this universe's Michael was impressive for how it had passed muster with the crews of the Discovery and Shenzhou, but no wonder she had addressed Georgiou by name instead of title. No wonder she didn't recognize Georgiou's authority.

That authority would crumble to dust if the news of the Federation were not suppressed. As things were, the Empire already had a perennial problem with its alien species fomenting rebellion; if the Federation's values spread, Starfleet would never be able to uproot the rebels.

Georgiou considered herself a reformer, as reform went in the Empire, but this was an immediate existential danger. Sato II had sent out all of her guards before even hinting at the Defiant's true origins; Georgiou had had no warning before Michael had brought up the topic. Repopulating her Council would be tedious, but it was necessary to keep the forbidden knowledge suppressed.

So this Michael wanted to go home. Georgiou was more interested in how they had come here in the first place.

… Of course the other universe also had the mycelial technology. There had been no mention of it in the Defiant's records, but they had successfully developed it as a method of instantaneous transport, as Stamets had theorized, instead of energy generation. If the Terran Starfleet had access to these displacement-activated spore hub drives, then the areas of potential conquest would expand immensely. The first Rome had collapsed under the need to maintain supply lines, and no successor empire had ever quite managed to escape that law even as technology improved. But now — this was a true revolution, the jump in technology that Georgiou had waited for.

This Michael and her engine schematics had come nearly a hundred years exactly after the Defiant's arrival in this universe in 2155, which itself had occurred 92 years after Vulcan first contact and the subsequent technological boom in 2063. Perhaps it was fate that every century, the Empire would receive some new scientific and engineering knowledge from the outside.

Georgiou hated the idea that her universe was doomed to lag behind its alternate and that it had to subsist on discarded scraps thrown aside by its more fortunate neighbor. The words of her bargain with the other Michael were bitter in her mouth, but she was not so proud that she would reject this gift. The Terran Empire hated the Federation as it hated the Vulcans who made First Contact, but the Empire would use their technologies nonetheless.

As long as this Michael left behind their engine schematics, it would be a fair trade. Georgiou would put aside her personal griefs for the sake of the Empire's advancement, but the sooner these interlopers left, the better.

Georgiou listened as her daughter's doppelgänger contacted her crew aboard the Discovery to arrange a rendezvous. Considering that universe's nauseatingly strong moral code, it was really a surprise that the other Michael had managed to betray her captain at all.

Michael's concern for her current captain was much more in character, but Georgiou had no intention of letting him out of the agonizer any earlier than necessary. Lorca's offenses against her and the Empire were too great; if her bond with Michael crossed universes, then so did his treachery.

And then it was the other Michael's turn to listen, wide-eyed, as Georgiou recounted the full story of what this universe's Lorca had said and done to her daughter.

Georgiou crossed the room to open the shutters. Michael saw her recoiling and she said, "You're sensitive to light."

As autopsies on the corpses of the crew of the Defiant had shown, this was the singular biological difference between the residents of this universe and the other.

"He needed me to get onto this ship," said Michael slowly, as she put the pieces together. "None of this was an accident… He's not from my universe, he's from yours."

So. Lorca was exactly who he'd pretended to be. Unlike Michael, he really had survived the battle over Priors World, and now he'd come back for a second chance at her throne. His resourcefulness had served the Empire well in the past, and now it had brought him literally to another universe and back — but there would be no third chance for him now that Georgiou knew.

They were too late.

By the time the other Michael put two and two together about Lorca's true origins, he had already broken out of the agonizers and somehow managed to access the decks where the Charon's troops were barracked.

The other Michael easily escaped Georgiou's attempts to send her to the brig. Georgiou put her out of her mind to focus on the current threat. There would be time enough to exorcize her ghosts later.

From Maddox's long absence, it was a safe assumption that he was either already dead or incapacitated, and that no help would be coming from that quarter. The Charon's battalions of troops were similarly out of the picture: either they were all dead, or their commanders had decided to keep their heads down and stay out of this power struggle. Georgiou was left with only her Honor Guard under Owosekun, who she sent to apprehend Lorca. How hard could it be to hunt down one man?

But it rapidly became apparent that Georgiou had underestimated Lorca, and the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. Owosekun came back alone and then was vaporized by Lorca and his co-conspirators, many of whom Georgiou recognized from their time in the agonizers.

More surprisingly, Lorca had also managed to recruit Stamets, who was demonstrating a concerning knowledge about the Charon's security measures. After he brought down the containment field protecting the throne room, Georgiou's last few defenders were outnumbered by Lorca's troops.

If the full Honor Guard were still here, they might have been able to hold out under siege, but as it was, discretion was the better part of valor. Georgiou beamed out of the throne room entirely.

The emergency transport system took her to the Imperial Residence, the most secure location aboard the Charon. The Imperial Residence's internal surveillance systems were not accessible from anywhere else in the ship, though Stamets could probably get around that eventually. With enough time, he might even be able to undo the computer's block on her life signs to locate her more easily.

Stamets had only been responsible for designing the Charon's supermycelial reactor. Georgiou hadn't executed him earlier after the revelation of his collusion with Lorca because she hadn't wanted to kill the golden goose; the Empire needed his mind and the innovations it might produce. Evidently, that had been a mistake, and Stamets had used his extension on time to ferret out a number of secrets about the Charon. Georgiou had to assume that nowhere was safe, or that nowhere would stay safe for long.

There was really something to be said for the old Egyptian pharaohs and Chinese emperors who had killed their architects and craftsmen after construction was complete.

The Residence was well-supplied with weapons and rations caches. Even by herself, Georgiou could hold out against Lorca's troops for a while — but what would be the point? At this point, she had a choice to make. There was an emergency escape shuttlepod accessible from her residence; she could make it off the ship — but for what? She didn't relish the thought of a life in exile, always waiting to be hunted down by Lorca ascendant.

Alternatively, she could try rallying her loyalists around her to retake the Charon and the Empire, but she would never be regarded the same way. A good half of holding the throne was maintaining the perception of strength and control; the fact that Lorca had gained access to the Charon's central comms system to make his offer of amnesty meant that it was already too late for her. Georgiou was finished as Emperor.

The only question that remained now was who would succeed her, if it would be Lorca or some as-yet unknown new contender, and Georgiou had no intention of letting Lorca inherit the throne. This was all the vengeance she had left to her, a deposed Emperor's imperfect justice and a fighting death, and she meant to take it.

But it mattered little if Georgiou left her sanctuary sooner or later. Better to lure Lorca into a false sense of security before striking, perhaps, so she sait and waited, turning over her Michael's badge in her hand. So she really had lost her daughter.

Judging from Lorca's repeated broadcasts, the other Michael was still on the loose aboard the Charon. Good for her. It brought Georgiou little joy to imagine the thought of Lorca with this Michael; his treachery and faithlessness truly knew no bounds. At least he hadn't seen this Michael grow up, unlike Georgiou's daughter.

Speak of the devil; suddenly Michael was there in the Residence. She placed herself across the table from Georgiou, as equal to equal.

Once upon a time, when Georgiou was young, before the realities of this universe sank in, she had also believed that she was responsible for forging her own path. By contrast, this Michael's optimism could not be quelled, even under overwhelming odds, even considering everything in their doubled histories.

Georgiou had already known the general outlines of what happened to herself in the other universe — captaincy, betrayal, death — but the words directly from Michael's mouth bore more weight than what she had gathered from the Defiant's records. Her promise to stop Lorca similarly rang true; that was the obnoxious Federation optimism, but there was also something to her determination that Georgiou recognized from her own daughter.

All things considered, Michael's plan was elegant in its simplicity. She wanted to disable the supermycelial reactor's containment field, and she needed to access the controls in the throne room — so she would deliver Georgiou to him, pretending she'd changed her mind and was willing to join him. Her Discovery was coming for her; they would fire on the Charon to cause a distraction, and that would be their chance.

(The thought did cross Georgiou's mind: what if Michael really had betrayed her and was joining Lorca? But at this point, what else did she have to lose?)

Stamets had certainly never mentioned that the supermycelial reactor posted a threat to life across the galaxy. Georgiou was hardly a humanitarian, but her empire was already lost. She had no more use for the Charon; let it pass away with her, a fitting pyre for her reign.

Michael, of course, had previously delivered Lorca as a faux fugitive to Georgiou. Would Lorca buy this new turn of events, considering this was the exact same ploy he'd used to gain access to the Charon? But no, he would accept Michael's apparent change of heart for the same reason Georgiou had: this was everything he wanted, the erasure of all his regrets and the fulfillment of all his dreams.

So Georgiou allowed herself to be led into the throne room while being held at phaserpoint, the image of a defeated woman; she let herself get knocked down, and stayed on her knees and remained silent as this Michael sold herself to Lorca for the sake of her crew; she bided her time as Lorca goaded her directly; and she waited as Lorca hailed the other Discovery and delivered his last words, and then some unseen signal passed between Michael and her crew.

And then Georgiou made her move, lunging to her feet and taking down Lorca's guards. Beside her, Michael was also in motion. A moment later, the Charon's throne room was directly fired upon, as promised, and they took advantage of the turmoil to further their assaults.

Georgiou had never forgotten the lesson of how she had claimed the throne, so she had never let herself fall out of fighting form. Michael was a surprisingly effective fighter, considering her pacifist's origins. The two of them made a good team, and one by one Lorca's troops fell and did not get up again. Despite herself, Georgiou found herself almost enjoying the fight. This was all she had wanted: her daughter fighting with her against Lorca.

After some careful maneuvering, Georgiou positioned herself by her throne and let herself get hemmed in. She let herself collapse in feigned exhaustion as Michael finished up with her opponent and — typical Federation — immediately came to her rescue. She and Lorca scuffled briefly, but then Michael found a phaser and pointed it at him.

Slowly, Lorca put his hands up, his back to the throne.

Michael, still Federation-soft, refused to kill him. Even after everything he'd done and threatened to do, she still hesitated to render judgement.

But Georgiou had no such compunctions. Her sword of office was lying discarded to the side; she took it up and ran Lorca through in a single thrust. She had literally stabbed him in the back, a fitting punishment for his betrayal.

Even dying, Lorca still reached out to Michael. He fell to his knees, his breath gargling in his throat.

Contemptuously, Georgiou kicked him through the trapdoor that led to the reactor core. Let Michael have her standards; Georgiou knew that Lorca was too dangerous for mercy. This time, there would be no mistake: if the stab wound did not kill him, then he would get taken by the mycelial network. She'd had Stamets install this trapdoor in her throne room as a method of public execution; how fitting that Lorca now suffered that fate.

And thus the mother avenged her daughter, and the Emperor avenged her throne.

Earlier, Georgiou had called herself a woman of honor. Michael had fulfilled her side of the bargain: she'd brought Georgiou into Lorca's presence, which had enabled her to kill him. Now Georgiou offered Michael the controls to the Charon's reactor core. Let her do what she would with it.

"It was a good plan," she said. "You fought well. For a moment…. I thought I had her back with me."

This was the highest compliment she could give. Against all expectations, Federation and Empire had been able to come to terms and work together as equals.

Lorca's troops were already approaching the barricaded throne room; she could hear their footsteps and shouting as they discussed how to take down the door. So this is how it would end.

"I will buy you some time," said Georgiou, and she could almost laugh at the bewildered expression on Michael's face. How often had her daughter looked at her like that, wondering: why?

"They've seen my neck," she explained. "I have no future now, but I will die on my feet as befitting my station."

Georgiou had accepted her status as a defeated Emperor earlier in the Residence; she had accepted her status as a dead woman walking on borrowed time after she killed her daughter at Priors World. She hadn't been able to save her daughter from Lorca, but she had at least saved this other version of her daughter.

"Go, Michael Burnham," she said, offering her the communicator from her universe. "Find a way home. Live."

Georgiou picked up a phaser and positioned herself in front of the doors just in time; Lorca's troops started advancing, and Georgiou began firing. Behind her, she could hear Michael hailing her ship, and then the sounds of the transporter beam coalescing. She only had to hold Lorca's troops off long enough for Michael to make it off the ship; then she could go to her death with a clean conscience.

Lorca's troops rushed forward. Behind her, she could hear Michael's footsteps approaching.

Too late, Georgiou realized what Michael meant to do.

The light took her.

IT'S STILL FRIDAY SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD.

Spot the symbolism!