Author's Note: I probably should have noted this at the beginning. Oops. This is not set in the Mirror Universe from the series, but rather a different MU, even though there are some similarities. That's given me a lot more leeway in plot development. Thanks, everyone, for your comments! They're helping to keep me on track.

CHAPTER 5

She'd read that situation totally wrong, Hoshi thought ruefully as the door closed behind her. For some reason, her inability to interpret the captain's mood bothered her. Or maybe it was that he had acted in a way she hadn't expected which made the incident feel...off. She shook her head. Heaven forbid that he'd thought she was coming on to him, but she'd had no choice. He'd taken her only clothing, and she wasn't about to beg for something else to wear. She might not know who she was, but she definitely had pride.

He'd said there were clothes in here. She took a good look around the room. It was another set of living quarters. There was a large, comfortable-looking bed with several pillows and a heavy comforter in a warm shade of green. A dresser was tucked into a niche near the bed. Against one of the interior bulkheads was a small couch upholstered in the same shade as the bedding. Off to one side was a table, flanked by a pair of chairs.

It wasn't until she opened the closet that the purpose of the room hit her. Her cheeks grew hot as she gazed at the feminine apparel, all of it in luxurious materials, much of it scantily tailored, and most of it for the boudoir. She hadn't known the captain that long, but she seriously doubted he was a cross-dresser, she thought with dark humor. So that meant this room was for someone else.

Someone possibly like her.

She whirled around to take a better look at the room. Although it was elegantly appointed for a starship, there were no signs of an occupant. There were no knick-knacks, no personal items, nothing other than the furniture. And, of course, the clothes.

Hoshi turned back to the closet and began pawing through the items. She'd gotten the impression the captain didn't like to be kept waiting. She could imagine him becoming impatient, marching in here, and ordering her to wear something of his choosing, and it might be something she'd rather not wear, which was pretty much everything in the closet. After a quick search, she found something she could wear without blushing. The dress was more suited for evening than breakfast, but it was the most modest thing she could find. Unfortunately, there was no footwear in the closet. She'd have to go barefoot.

She took a last look around after putting on the dress. Just like the captain's cabin, this room had several doors. Besides the one through which she'd entered and the one for the closet, she found a bathroom behind another. The last, she thought as she turned a speculative gaze on it, had to be to the corridor. It was tempting to run, but as she'd realized earlier, there was no place to go.

She drew a deep breath, ran her fingers through her damp hair, and, mentally girding herself, strode with as much confidence as she could muster to the door to the captain's cabin.

Archer's first thought when Sato walked back into his cabin was that he was going to enjoy dressing her up. He had doubted she'd pick anything overtly provocative from the selection of clothing available, and he had been right. But what she had picked looked good on her. The halter-style black shift clung to her in all the right places, sliding silkily against her legs as she walked. Her hair, still damp from the shower, was curling at the ends as it dried. She certainly looked the part of a captain's woman.

If the crew wanted to think he'd taken her as his mistress, all the better. That would be enough to keep most of them from approaching her. Not many dared encroach on the captain's private preserve. That was the last thing he needed -- someone like Reed trying to learn any secrets she might have and then using them to his own advantage. If anyone was going to benefit from Sato's unexpected visit here, it was going to be Jonathan Archer.

"Much better," he murmured as she sat down across from him.

She flashed him a small smile, but he could tell she was nervous despite her outward appearance.

"Go ahead," he said, trying to put her at ease. "As you can see, I started without you."

She glanced at his nearly empty plate before placing her napkin on her lap and picking up her fork. He watched as she took a few tentative bites of scrambled eggs, then began eating more quickly. Satisfied that she wasn't going to do anything stupid like refuse to eat, he was reaching for his cup of coffee when he heard her stomach rumble. He glanced up to see her eyes wide with embarrassment.

"I guess it's been a while since I've had anything substantial to eat," she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

He chuckled. "I can have Cunningham bring seconds if you're still hungry when you finish that."

She murmured something inaudible and resumed eating, studiously ignoring him. Archer found himself smiling, something he didn't do often. He had to admit that he was enjoying watching her.

Overall, she was doing remarkably well. He'd seen several glimpses of steel in her this morning, and it was apparent that she had a resilient nature. First, she had surprised him by not attempting to lock herself in the bathroom after he'd removed her discarded clothing. He'd half expected her to ask for something to wear before she left the bathroom. But although he'd thrown her off balance by demanding that she dress after she'd walked out in a towel, she'd acted as if a gauntlet had been thrown down in front of her. She had gone into the other room, picked out something to wear, and had sailed back into his cabin like she owned the place.

Archer had finished his breakfast and was refilling his coffee cup from the carafe Cunningham had left on the table when Sato broke her self-imposed silence.

"Where's Dart?" she asked.

Archer snapped his fingers. A clattering of nails on the deck came from across the room as the doberman pinscher appeared from behind the other side of the bed. It padded to Archer and, at his signal, obediently sat. The dog's gaze turned longingly toward the piece of toast in Sato's hand as Archer rubbed it under its chin.

"Nein, jetzt keine von dem," Archer told the dog.

"Er muss Hunger haben," Sato said. "Haben nicht Sie ihn heute eingezogn?"

"No, I haven't fed him yet today," Archer answered, his eyes narrowing. "How is it that you understand German?"

"I don't know." She paused, seeming to consider something, then shrugged. "I just understood what you said, that's all."

He stared at her for a moment. "¿Cuál es su nombre?"

Without missing a beat, she responded in Spanish, "No sé. Usted me dijo que mi nombre es Hoshi Sato."

Of course he'd told her that her name was Hoshi Sato. It was too much to expect that his lingering suspicion that she was faking amnesia could be confirmed by tripping her up in a different language. But at the same time, the fact that she knew more than one language was intriguing. Switching to Vulcan, he said, "Mene sakkhet..."

"...ur-seveh," Sato finished the traditional greeting about living long and prospering.

Archer thought for a moment, then rasped, "Hab sosli' Quch!"

Sato snorted delicately. "I think it's safe to assume that my mother, whoever she was, did have a smooth forehead. Just don't say that to a Klingon. It's an insult."

"Exactly how many languages do you speak?" he asked curiously.

That question caught her off guard. She sat straighter and stared at him, her expression one of surprise. "I...I don't know. I didn't consciously think about the different languages that you used. I just spoke." Then her brow furrowed. "How many do you speak?"

Archer dismissed her question as unimportant with a curt wave of his hand. "No more than anyone might pick up in traveling around the galaxy." He rubbed the dog behind the ears. "I did have to learn some German, though, because Dart responds to that language. You, on the other hand..."

He smiled sardonically. An idea was forming in his mind, but he needed to find out exactly how many languages she knew, and how well. New technology from her universe might not be the only thing she could offer.

Archer waited impatiently for T'Pol to finish her work. He appreciated that T'Pol was an excellent science officer, but if there was one thing he admired about her, even if it annoyed him to no end sometimes, it was that she wasn't intimidated by his presence when she was working on something. His pacing in front of the communications station on the bridge where she was currently working had no effect; she refused to be hurried. She was processing Sato's translations with the help of the Universal Translator. T'Pol only spoke two languages -- her native Vulcan, and English, because that was the official language of the empire.

She pressed a control on the console and finally looked up at him. "Remarkable."

"What?" Archer asked.

"She is fluent in forty-seven languages."

No wonder it had taken all morning for Sato to complete the testing, and most of the afternoon for T'Pol to assess its accuracy.

"She may know even more languages than that," T'Pol continued. "While the empire strives to be all-inclusive, there are gaps in the fleet's language data base. And there may be languages in her universe that are not present in ours."

Archer was too astonished by the revelation of Sato's linguistic ability to comment on T'Pol's veiled criticism of the empire. "Forty-seven languages," he said. "Not including Earth languages, what else does she speak?"

"Vulcan. Klingon. Andorian. Romulan, although her knowledge of that tongue is weak," T'Pol said. "Denobulan. Kreetassan. Tellarite. Orion. She even understands languages that are no longer used, by virtue of the empire having exterminated the speakers' species, such as Nausicaan."

"Incredible," he murmured. "What doesn't she speak?"

T'Pol consulted her console. "Bajoran. Cardassian. A few other languages at the extreme edge of the empire."

Archer paced a few steps, deep in thought. When he turned back to T'Pol, he said, "It's possible, in her universe, that they haven't conquered those areas. She doesn't strike me as coming from an expansionist regime."

T'Pol looked away at nothing in particular. Archer was familiar with that mannerism, having seen it many times in the past. She had something to say, but wasn't going to bring it up without being asked. "What's on your mind, T'Pol?"

She looked back at him. "It seems that we do not know anything of her universe, much less whether it has government and social structures similar to this one."

"You weren't able to pull any information from her shuttle's data systems," he reminded her testily, wondering where this was leading. "And then there's the small fact that she can't remember anything."

T'Pol shifted in her seat. Whatever she was about to suggest wasn't something she wanted to voice.

"Spit it out," Archer ordered her.

"A mind meld."

He should have thought of that himself. He'd utilized T'Pol several times in the past to drag information out of reluctant prisoners who didn't want to talk. It wasn't a particularly pleasant process, for the person being subjected to it or the person conducting it. Hence, T'Pol's reluctance to bring it up. But she had served with Archer long enough to know that there was a good possibility that he'd order her to do it. Unlike some of his crew, she wasn't one to try to avoid something that she knew would be inevitable.

But there was a major flaw in her reasoning. "She can't remember anything," Archer repeated.

"Mind melds can be used to retrieve information that a person cannot consciously access, provided whatever barriers in place can be breached." Before he could say anything, she hurried to add, "There is some danger involved."

Archer raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"If she does not wish to participate, a forcible meld could damage her mind. Any knowledge she has may be irretrievably lost."

Archer turned to stare at the viewscreen, which showed the asteroid field they'd been observing for weeks. He always went after anything that might benefit him. New technology definitely fit that bill. But Sato also had a unique talent, one he'd never come across before. He hated relying on the UT when dealing with other species, and her facility with languages could prove a great advantage in that area.

Was the risk of permanently damaging Sato's brain worth it?