2375
The Mirror Universe
Tears slowly rolled down Bobbi’s face as Tom finished his story.
“Don’t pity me,” Tom said. “I intend to make the Alliance pay for what they did to me and my family.”
Minutes later, Bobbi was led into the small chamber used by the base’s commander. Tom gestured to the human.
“Bobbi March, meet Scott Freeman, commander of Echo Base.”
She nodded to the other man. “Hi.”
“Hello,” Freeman replied perfunctorily. “This mission we’ve grabbed you for is a difficult one, hence why we went to this trouble. Six Klingon generals are meeting on Adaros in three days time. The base they’re meeting in is a heavily protected one. Reinforced bunker walls, heavy disrupter turrets, torpedo launchers, the works.”
“How do you expect me to kill them, then?”
“The bunker’s not very heavily shielded. They’re counting on the walls to protect them. That’s why Tom told you to bring the TR-116. An agent of ours on your side of the divide told us you were known to use it. We couldn’t get the replicator pattern for the rifle, so we had to get you to bring it across with you. We know you can shoot through walls with it.”
“Now it makes sense. You knew I had the weapon and the skills to use it, hence why I was convinced to come across.”
“Exactly.”
Bobbi nodded. “Fine, I’ll do it.”
Adaros
Three days later
The small raider landed in the dense forest without being detected. Bobbi opened the hatch and headed out, with Tom close behind.
“Don’t you need a spotter?” he asked. She turned back toward him as she tore a branch off a nearby tree.
“What?”
“A spotter? I read an old book once about Imperial snipers. They used two-man teams, a shooter and a spotter.”
“No. I’ve never needed a spotter. When you use a phaser rifle, you don’t need to worry about wind speed and direction because they don’t affect the energy stream. Plus, you don’t need a spotter to see the targets, because you can use a tricorder which can also give you distance to target info, which isn’t that much of a big deal.”
As she spoke, Bobbi broke bits off the branch and began poking them into the black jumpsuit she wore. She then began putting more pieces of foliage into the suit as Tom watched.
“Well, what about the bullets fired by that rifle?” he asked.
“The inertia-neutral transporter negates any need to worry about wind speed, coriolis effects or other weather conditions and range issues. The exographic targeting sensor also eliminates the need to worry about target spotting with a tricorder.”
Bobbi shoved a large fern-like leaf into a strap on her helmet, pulling the leaf so it hung over the glowing yellow monocle she wore.
“You look an idiot, like that,” Tom commented.
Bobbi smirked. “As long as I’m a hard-to-see idiot, I don’t care.”
Several hours later, Bobbi was lying in the undergrowth of the forest, several dozen metres away from the bunker.
The Klingon generals had arrived and were in the fortified meeting room.
Bobbi watched them through the exographic targeting sensor. They were fat, oafish Klingons. Obviously used to ruling over systems with no resistance and no threats from underlings. Bobbi had fought alongside, and against Klingon warriors. These were not warriors.
She was lip-reading some of the conversation that was going on. Discussion centred on the Terran resistance and Regent Worf’s seeming inability to crush it.
Bobbi finally targeted one of the Klingons.
Inside the bunker, General Karh was declaiming loudly. “The son of Mogh is impotent in the face of this threat!” he shouted. “His pet Bajoran has singularly failed time and time again to stop the rebels, and even when he took personal charge of…”
Karh suddenly stopped, clutched his chest, dropped his mug of Warnog and collapsed to the floor.
Two of the other generals hurried over to his side.
“What in the name of Kahless was that?” asked one.
“Did the old ToDSaH have a heart-attack?” asked another, further back in the group.
Suddenly, the intercom system came to life.
“PetaQpu! You shame yourselves and your Houses!” cried a voice in oddly accented Klingon. “The jat'yIn of your victims demand your souls in payment for your cruelty!”
“This is nonsense!” said the general kneeling next to Karh’s corpse.
“It is not nonsense,” the voice answered. “It is revenge for your misdeeds. A dish best served cold and it is very cold here…”
The kneeling general, Dajh, collapsed.
One of the generals in the back stood up, looked around wildly and yelled, “What can we do to placate you?”
“Die.”
As the general opened his mouth to frame a response, he too collapsed.
Another of the generals bolted for the door, he barely made it six paces before he collapsed.
“This is some kind of trick,” another general bellowed. “A trap set by the rebels!”
“You will learn the truth when you reach Gre’thor,” replied the strange voice.
The general collapsed. The final general made it as far as the door, before he too perished.
A servant found them five minutes later when she arrived with a tray loaded with mugs of Warnog.
Bobbi slipped away from the bunker and headed back toward the rebel raider.
Tom watched her pull off her camouflage, while she grinned.
“Why are you so happy?”
“Sometimes, I like to screw with the enemy’s head,” was all she replied.
Bobbi was soon returned to Deep Space 7 in her own universe. She had to file a report on why she’d been missing for four days, and then answer some severe questions from her commanding officer. She decided it had been worth it.
