February 3, 2387
USS Yeager
"Report!" Harry Kim barked as he marched onto the bridge from the turbolift.
Baytard was on his feet, pushing off from the command chair by the armrests even before Harry was completely onto the bridge. "We're in pursuit, sir. They're jamming the sensors with something we've never encountered before. But it's the same shuttle that crashed on Satellite 19." He swallowed hard. "They abducted the captain?" he asked with dread.
"The pilot used the shuttle's weapons to stun us. It took us over an hour before we could scan sufficiently enough to know Tom wasn't on the surface anymore." Harry walked to the captain's chair. "If they're jamming the sensors, what are we following?" he asked.
"A decaying warp signature that was only partially masked, sir," Hirae called from her seat at the conn. She spun in her chair. "There's a very slight phase variance. I calibrated the navigational sensors to compensate. That's what we're following," she told him.
"Excellent work, Ensign," Harry complimented her, never so far from that young ensign himself who had always been so eager to please. He sat in the chair.
Leaning over his shoulder he called to the tactical officer. "Do we have any other information?" he asked Lieutenant Peters.
"None, sir," he replied, a defeated apology in his voice.
"Keep scanning…whatever you can, Lt.," Harry told him.
"Sick Bay to the bridge," Conlin's voice sounded over the comm.
"Go ahead, Doctor," Harry called as he toggled the button on the side of his chair.
"You need to come down here, sir," Conlin said tightly.
That was never good, Harry thought. "On my way," Harry called as he rose to his feet. "Hirae, you have the bridge."
"Aye, sir," she replied crisply, disguising the nervousness behind her professionalism well.
}LS{
"What is it, Doctor?" Harry asked the moment he was through the doors.
The doctor had been seated at his desk, but had risen and was headed towards Harry. "I found something peculiar after I examined the data I recorded on the surface of the satellite." He moved to stand in front of the bank of diagnostic computers. The screen came to life and different images flashed by. Harry trusted him to explain, since nothing he saw seemed like something he understood.
The screen stopped on a scan, what looked like a complex analysis of DNA. "The blood we found in the shuttle," he said.
"Right," Harry replied. "You said Kilngon and human DNA."
"Yes, I did," Conlin said. "But there was enough DNA in the sample, undegraded, for me to run a more detailed analysis. There was a 98 percent match in the Federation database…once I corrected for the phase variance." He looked at Harry, his face frozen. "It belongs to Miral Paris."
"What?" Harry gasped, his shock taking over for a moment before he reined it in. "How is that possible?"
"There's more," Conlin added. "Based on the telomeres in the sample, this Miral Paris is in her early to mid 20s. But there is no doubt…that was her blood."
Harry's mind was racing. "You said phase variance? Does that mean what I think it means?" he asked.
"She's from another universe. I know the Federation has had many encounters with what they call the Mirror Universe, specifically in Bajoran space and with Deep Space Nine personnel. It's been quiet on that front for a few years, but the technology they use to move back and forth was never destroyed. And in almost every instance, those universe counterparts kidnapped Federation citizens and Starfleet personnel for various purposes," Conlin explained.
Harry didn't have a better explanation, not with what little they had. He had been briefed on all of that when he'd shipped out with Chakotay on the Endeavor. Sending the counterparts of dead acquaintances from this universe had been their modus operandi all along. Was it possible that even more was going on than what they suspected? Or was this a red herring?
The only way to find out was to apprehend the shuttle. He would get to the bottom of it, one way or the other.
February 3, 2387
Shuttlecraft
"We can't outrun the Yeager in a Class Two shuttlecraft, Miral," Tom told her.
"Not indefinitely, no. But we don't need to. We just have to get to the coordinates that navigation is set to. At current speed, that is in…10 minutes," she said calmly, her concentration set on the panel in front of her.
"Why there?" he asked crisply. She had the ability to transport them both into another reality, as she had explained. What difference did coordinates make?
"The device I have requires an enormous amount of energy. In the 29th century, the Federation has power cells capable of supporting it, but nothing that works this far back in the past. I need to get close enough to the corona of the star to amplify the chroniton wave using the star's gamma radiation," she explained.
"Does that work?" he asked warily.
"Worked the first time," she said fatalistically, shrugging. "Those were Daniels' instructions. I won't deviate from them."
"How close is close?" he asked.
"Why?" she asked, sensing the worry.
"If shields aren't at 100 percent…we'll be fried to a crisp in here," he muttered.
"Then let's not let the Yeager drain the shields with weapons fire. Because they will fire on us…especially because they know I have you," she told him.
"We're about to find out," he added stiffly. "They're hailing us."
"Unknown Shuttlecraft, this is the USS Yeager. Drop out of warp and prepare to be boarded." Harry's voice, crisp and direct on the speaker.
"We're running silent, Dad," Miral said rapidly, gunning the engine, trying to make up for the few minutes the shuttle was lagging.
He sighed in frustration. "If I let them know I'm alright…and to not pursue, they have to listen to me," he insisted.
"Harry will not just sit there when you tell him to let me disappear with you. I guarantee that," she retorted.
"Maybe not…indefinitely. But long enough to get us where you need us?" he asked. He was grasping, trying to assist the only way he could, using words very similar to her argument.
She looked at him, debating his words. "Break off pursuit, Yeager," she said, breaking her own instructions to him just moments before. "I promise you, Paris won't be harmed. But he will be if you disable our shields," she warned.
"The Federation has technology to cross into the Mirror Universe. You can't unrun us." Harry's voice again.
"Mirror Universe?" he mouthed to her, his complexion fading a shade paler.
"Damn it," she swore softly. "Of course they must think that," she muttered to herself.
His eyes flashed with pain at her. "Is that what this really is?" he whispered.
She pulled her hands away from the panel, huffing a loud breath, frustrated. "Dad," she exclaimed. "Do you trust me?" she asked, her eyes wide and pleading. As his silence dragged, she added, "That's what they think…based on the evidence they have. It doesn't matter what they think. I told you the truth."
He wavered. It was possible, he had to admit, after all that he knew. A Mirror Universe version of his daughter comes to abduct him for some nefarious purpose, luring him with the promise of something else, enticed by the specter of a dead loved one. But, no, he argued with himself. The sphere builders, the information he had gotten from Janeway, the pod they had found, coupled with the memory loss, Aaron's death…too many things supported what he already believed, rather than the other possibility. The authenticity of his interaction with this woman…he did trust her. He was certain of that.
"Harry," Tom barked into the comm as he hit the switch brusquely with his palm. "She's not from the Mirror Universe. Break off pursuit, Yeager," he shouted.
"Captain!" Harry's voice crackled over the comm, the volume stressing the limits of the channel.
"Harry," Tom said again, his voice softer, a gentle plea. "Please, trust me. This is about more than just me. Just us. Please," he added again.
Tom trusted Miral, and he was hoping that his best friend trusted him enough to believe what he was saying. "If it is, then let us assist," Harry offered.
"I'm sorry, but that's not possible," Tom replied. "It violates the Temporal Prime Directive," he added, flinching as he said it. Miral's eyes widened a bit, and she opened her mouth as if she was going to speak. All he got in reply was silence on the comm.
"They dropped off pursuit, Dad," she murmured. "What was that about?" she asked, a slight tinge of irritation in her voice.
"Something I knew he wouldn't argue with," Tom quipped.
}LS{
The transition across the barrier into a different reality was almost imperceptible, just a faint shimmer of the stars in front of them and what felt like a blink, a very subtle winking out of their surroundings only to have them coalesce around them again.
"The readings have us…almost 300 light years from our previous position," he said in wonder, double checking the readings just to be sure.
"The device corrects for spatial coordinates. It took you weeks to get to that sector. We don't have that kind of time," Miral explained. "Daniels gave me very explicit orders to not examine the technology that I have. Contaminating the timeline with future information, things like that."
"Like the Doctor's mobile emitter," Tom compared. "I only know the highlights, but Admiral Janeway had a lot of debriefings about that. Your mother did too, considering she was the only one who even remotely understood how it worked."
"Because she was such a good engineer," Miral replied. "And she taught me almost everything I know. Daniels knew that, and I agreed, for the sake of the mission. But regardless of that, I know once the barrier is made permeable, it folds space around us, so anywhere in the galaxy is reachable."
They were approaching a planet, dusty red from the distance the shuttle flew. "We're headed for Vulcan," Tom said. "I've never actually been there before," he added. It was on my bucket list, he thought, but bit his lip and didn't say. It was a witty, funny quip…until it was juxtaposed to the current situation.
"T'Lassa lives here with T'Mira," Miral explained, her voice rough and quieter. Tom heard the emotion restrained when she mentioned her friend's name. "In this timeline," she added, her voice strengthening. "It is still February 3, 2387, nine months since the reactor exploded in close proximity to Starbase 47, where she lived with her daughter, the Paris', and Commander Michaels."
"You timed it to the day?" he asked incredulously.
She turned to explain, studying his face as she parsed out what she could tell him. "You were the focal point, because the sphere builders have concentrated almost all of their efforts in the timeline I removed you from. Finding her on the same day, here, limits the chance for temporal psychosis, once I bring her back to my timeline."
"Wait," he interjected. "Your timeline? Why?" he asked.
"Because I need Aaron's help," she proclaimed. That realization hung silently in the air between them. She broke the silence and continued. "Daniels at first told me not to interact with him, but I convinced Daniels he could help me. He agreed." She left out the reasons about her own safety, the stress on her system far less when she went back to her correct quantum reality.
"Your timeline…is 16 years in the future," Tom said hoarsely, suddenly on edge thinking about what he would see when he followed this woman to the final destination.
"Dad, I haven't underestimated the shock this will cause, believe me. I wish there was another way, but there isn't. This plan has the best chances of success, with the steps followed out in the specific order that I'm doing them. My mother…seeing you again…Aaron seeing T'Lassa again, younger. It adds a level of complication that I was aware of. But I didn't think it was insurmountable," she insisted. She puffed out her breath. "That's a problem for later. For now, we have to convince her to leave here with us."
"What happened…in this timeline?" Tom asked.
This timeline will also fail to exist, provided they succeeded in their mission, she thought. There was no harm in telling him everything. "Tom and B'Elanna Paris, as well as Lieutenant Commander Aaron Michaels were killed when Starbase 47 took heavy structural damage from a reactor detonation nine months ago. The Paris' daughter was sent back to earth to live with her grandfather, Admiral Owen Paris. Her mother's father, John Torres, is currently suing for custody on the grounds that Admiral Paris is incapable of providing appropriate care based on his work schedule. Admiral Paris countersued on the grounds that John was an absentee father and virtually unknown to his granddaughter.
"Commander Paris ejected the reactor and was exposed to vacuum. Commander Torres was killed in an explosion caused by an overload where the children remaining on the station had been sheltering. She shielded her daughter and several other young children. Commander Michaels died in an area of the station where structural collapse was imminent. He was rescuing survivors. Starbase 47 was decommissioned and personnel were reassigned. T'Lassa resigned her commission and went back to Vulcan to practice medicine and raise her daughter," Miral finished.
It was so strange, he thought, something he didn't know if he would ever get used to. "Joanna Harkins," he muttered out loud.
"What?" Miral asked.
"She shielded…my daughter…in my timeline…in what sounds like the same explosion. She was killed, but so were you," he said in a droning monotone, unaware that he had switched pronouns again and was speaking to her as if she was his daughter. B'Elanna was stronger…she would have been able to provide more adequate protection. She was still killed, but her charges were not.
"What about your friend, Leila?" he asked cryptically, still switched over.
"She lived here, died in my timeline," Miral said softly.
It was as if he could trace circumstances, the causes at each point for the events in each timeline to split. It became almost like a logical puzzle, and his brain kept running through it despite himself. B'Elanna being with the children had caused no fatalities other than her own. Without her there, multiple children had perished.
As almost an afterthought, Miral added, "It makes sense now, why this is the timeline where T'Lassa survived. She and Aaron weren't together in this timeline."
He twisted his lips to the side as he thought, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. "The day before your birthday party, she had experienced the beginning of the…" He didn't finish, realizing quickly that although it seemed like casual conversation to them now, pon farr was a serious taboo to speak about, within Vulcan culture and without.
"Pon farr?" Miral finished for him. At his wide-eyed stare, she added, "My best friend is Vulcan. She explained, in very general terms, what that means." She sighed. "I don't know what happened here, that specifically. I only have access to historical data…recorded data. How that was… treated…I have no way of knowing." She sighed again. "Although, just because they weren't together didn't mean she had no feelings for him. He saved her life…and she saved his. That never changes, regardless of what timeline we're in."
Tom recalled the incidents this Miral was referring to. First, in 2382, while he and B'Elanna were on Earth with their toddler, Tarkalian flu had broken out on the station. With more than half of the crew down with illness and thus unusually vulnerable, the station had been raided by Nausican pirates. Aaron had taken a dagger to the shoulder, a through and through, and still intervened and prevented one of the pirates from killing T'Lassa. Then a year later, in 2383, at the pinnacle of his battle with substance abuse, T'Lassa had intervened in a time of crisis and prevented his suicide, then later helped him recover.
What would this T'Lassa be like? he thought. The man she loved had died before she ever had the chance to let him know how she felt. It was too similar, too familiar to what he had been living with all these months. Maybe his foresight would be helpful. At least, he thought, his being here with her would help convince her to accompany them. He knew more than he had any right to know, coming from a timeline where another version of her had linked herself to Aaron and let herself die rather than live without him.
She had just as much motivation to correct what seemed to have been altered, he thought with hope.
February 3, 2387
Vulcan, alternate timeline
"Are you sure she's on duty?" Tom asked Miral as they walked into the emergency department of the university hospital in the capital city of ShiKahr. They were dressed in civilian garb, replicated on the shuttle before they had beamed down on the outskirts of the city.
Miral had rigged the shuttle transporter for automatic recall, the power signature rigged through their combadges. The shuttle's Starfleet insignia had been removed, and it blended in perfectly with both commuter and commercial traffic. They were not scrutinized in any significant way. All it had taken was a phony flight log and registration code she had been supplied ahead of time.
The only way to literally walk in off the street and into the hospital was via the emergency room. The fact that they were both off-worlders was also better explained in the ER.
An ER on Vulcan was very different from an ER on Earth, Tom thought. It was so quiet. He wondered how sick Vulcans needed to be in order to seek emergency care. Everything was a logical argument always, and logically, the ER was reserved for life threatening situations. He had to believe that these people were potentially facing life or death, while outwardly, no emotion was showing at all.
"I was able to access the hospital's mainframe computer. She should be covering the ER until the change of shift at 23:00 hours local time," Miral confirmed.
"So what's the plan, specifically?" Tom asked. "Are you going to just get her isolated? Stun her?"
Miral just looked at him, half surprised and half amused. "Hopefully nothing that drastic. I was planning on just talking to her." More seriously, she turned to him to explain. "It has to be me. She'll recognize you…but it's too much at first."
He nodded, trusting her plan. He knew she would know what to say to the Vulcan. Seeing him could only reinforce it and perhaps make the argument if everything else failed.
They only had to wait about 30 minutes. One of the ward doors swung open, and T'Lassa stood there, in a white robe that indicated she was a medical doctor. Tom turned in his seat, covering the side of his face inconspicuously. He looked through his fingers, his eyes stinging as he took her in, not aware of how deeply the pain of her absence had been affecting him until he was looking at her.
She looked the same, he thought. Petite but with an air of elegance around her that made her seem taller. Her long black hair was piled high on top of her head, emphasizing the delicate points of her ears more than he had ever noticed before. That hairstyle suddenly contrasted with his memories of her and her long hair pulled back into a clip. This kept her hair up and away, though the bun on the top of her head added almost five extra inches to her height. She turned slightly and his attention was focused on her ears. He had never seen them that way, so pronounced and exposed.
She wore her hair down to hide her ears, Tom suddenly realized. He put the two things together almost instantaneously, before his rational brain was aware. Her ears were far less pointed in effect when observed head on. The pointed tip was subtle, smoothed over. He knew she had human ancestors. Her grandfather, he recalled. Was that enough to change her features this much? Tom tried to recall T'Mira's ears, wondering now at how un-pointed they actually were. It was curious, strange even that he was focusing on something so trivial. If he thought about it long enough, he knew that focus settled the bizarre feeling like he was walking around in a waking dream.
Miral walked past, turning down the adjoining corridor. Tom watched how she walked, feigning confusion and perhaps being lost to explain her presence. She ran ahead and waited. T'Lassa would pass this way, she just had to wait. It was more beneficial to get the Vulcan woman alone.
Miral watched T'Lassa walk in fascination. Her friend's mother had died when Miral herself was only eight. Miral had never noticed how tiny in stature T'Lassa actually was now that she was a full grown adult. Because Miral had an adult T'Mira's countenance in her mind, she marveled at how much like her mother T'Mira actually appeared. The same eyes, the same hair, the same cheekbones and jawline, the same body frame, only T'Mira was probably a good five inches taller than her mother. Her father must have been tall, Miral thought.
"Doctor," Miral called, just above a whisper.
T'Lassa stopped walking. She looked up from the padd in her hand in the direction she had heard Miral calling from. "How can I…be…of…assistance?" T'Lassa asked, each word spaced out further and slowed down as the Vulcan seemed to examine the speaker. Her eyes flared then narrowed and she tilted her head. Miral was uncertain if she was recognized specifically, or if T'Lassa was just fascinated by the shallow brow ridges that she had only ever seen on one other person in her entire life.
"Do you know who I am?" Miral asked quietly.
"Should I?" T'Lassa asked, losing that Vulcan quality to her voice, sounding much more like Miral remembered her.
"This will sound crazy, T'Lassa, but yes, you should. I'm–"
"Miral Paris," T'Lassa spoke over her, unable to disguise the wonder and awe in her tone. "This is not possible," she said, almost to convince herself. She was struggling to maintain her composure.
"You're right, it shouldn't be. But it is," Miral said firmly and calmly. "I'm from an alternate timeline…and from the future," she admitted.
T'Lassa's eyes scanned over Miral as if she were seeing her for the first time, studying her like a long lost archeology specimen. "Fascinating," T'Lassa said in a hushed tone. The likeness in tone to what Miral had always heard from T'Mira warmed her heart inside her chest.
T'Lassa tilted her head to the side and walked past Miral. As she passed, T'Lassa raised her index finger and curled it, beckoning Miral to follow her. She opened a door and stood aside for Miral to enter, then followed her inside and shut the door. "Explain to me your purpose for this…appearance," she requested.
Just as Miral opened her mouth, there was a soft knock on the closed door. T'Lassa was obviously curious, her brow furrowing as she questioned. Miral sighed, reaching behind her and turning the doorknob, knowing once she had located the doctor, her father was on his way to joining the conversation. Tom stepped into the room quietly, backing in and then turning on his heel to face T'Lassa.
Tom never knew Vulcans were capable of fainting. He was still debating that idea with himself when he stepped forward to catch her as she pitched forward, crumpling in his arms like a rag doll.