Chapter Eight – Broken Mirror
Stardate 54836.1 (3 November 2377)
Starbase 66
"
Go then, there are other worlds than these.”
―
Stephen King, “
The Gunslinger”
Lt. Tess Edwards stepped onto the turbo-lift and turned to face the doors that slid to with a barely audible hiss. “Level seven,” she requested and the lift dutifully began to descend.
Moments later, the lift doors opened.
“Level 470,” announced the computer voice.
Edwards froze, the only sound was the hammering of her heart. By sheer force of will, she broke free of her fugue and stepped out into the dimly lit corridor.
She cringed as the lift doors closed behind her, and chided herself for being so jumpy. More curious now than afraid, she began to walk down the corridor toward Section Lambda.
As she did so, she sensed the temperature beginning to drop. A small cloud of vapor formed before her each time she exhaled. There was also an underlying smell she had not noticed on her first visit to this level, an odor of decay.
Otherwise, there were no noticeable differences in the corridor than her first visit with Captain Gilead two days earlier. Yet, it seemed that the journey to the forbidden section took longer this time, the corridor seeming to expand in length each time she rounded a curve.
Finally, though, she came to the barricade that blocked off Section Lambda. For a moment, she merely stood, staring at the imposing blast doors that sealed the section off from the rest of the level.
She felt herself moving again toward those doors, her feet seeming to move of their own accord. But no warning message sounded, no lights flashed, and no paralyzing gas appeared. Stepping over the barricade, she approached the entrance to Section Lambda.
Her hand came up and caressed the cold, Duranium plated doors. As she did, she felt a vibration, a deep, bass throbbing that seemed to emanate from within. The hair at the nape of her neck stood on end, yet she could not turn, could not flee.
“Tess.”
She jerked her head up from her desk, startled awake. Blinking in confusion for a moment, she felt a sudden flood of relief. She was seated at her desk in her apartment. It was only another drea . . .
The relief she felt melted away into a white noise of confusion. This
was apparently her apartment and her desk . . .
. . . where Commander Trevor Yidumduma Harney stood a few feet away, regarding her not unkindly. He wore a contemporary Starfleet uniform complete with three gold pips on his collar. His brown eyes twinkled with an inner light she found . . .
She jerked upright in her chair, shaking her head sharply in an attempt to fully come awake.
But the Indigenous Australian was still there, waiting patiently.
“What do you want?” she finally asked. “Is this real or another dream?”
He smiled. “To answer your second question, it’s . . . complicated. To simplify matters, let’s just deal with the first. I am here to protect.”
“Protect? In what way? What are you anyway?”
“You have many questions, Tess, but most of the answers are beyond your comprehension. As to what I am, I was and in some ways still am, Trevor Harney. But for many years, I have served as
Utdjungon for this realm.”
As he said the strange word, Tess somehow understood its meaning:
lawman, guardian.
“Guardian against what, exactly?”
He tilted his head, as if to consider his answer. “An old story teller from Earth put it well . . . ‘there are other worlds than these.’”
She knew he wasn’t merely speaking of planets. “Yes, we know of parallel universes. Some of our own Starfleet vessels have inadvertently crossed over to these mirror realities.”
He nodded. “Indeed. Yet not all universes are alike, Tess. Even the strange ‘mirror’ realities are only a mere shadow of a shadow’s difference. But there are places you do not know which are . . . ,” he used a word that she could not pronounce, yet she understood it approximately meant,
other-dark.
The Yarney/Guardian continued. “Your friend, Todd Stillman, has intuited much, but only in the sense that a blind man intuits a sun because of a hot summer day. You see, this point in the universe is shared by every universe, every reality, everywhere, in every time.”
Edwards shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
His smile was both patient and sad. “I know.” Something seemed to grab his attention for his countenance changed and his expression was sober and serious.
“My time is short, Tess. There are things present here that do not belong in this reality. My ability to protect this realm is beginning to wane. We have allies in other universes but . . .” He paused.
“There is a powerful presence here that seeks the heat-death of this realm . . . a presence from a place that has already ceased to be . . .”
Her com-badge chirped, distracting her for a moment.
“Dr. An’Taal to Lt. Edwards.”
Reflexively, she tapped the golden delta. “Yes, Doct . . .” Glancing up, she saw that Yarney was gone.
Another dream? She did not think so.
“Lt. Edwards, are you there?”
“Uh, yes, Doctor . . . sorry.”
“It seems that Mr. Stillman’s idea worked. Mynar Hadlu is definitely improving. Her eyes have returned to normal and her brain function is beginning to stabilize.”
“That’s great news!” replied Edwards, relieved but still glancing around her bedroom. There was no sign of Trevor Harney. “Do you think it would be possible for me to interview her?”
“Not yet, I am purposefully keeping her asleep until all her neural readings are normal. If she continues to improve, perhaps you can speak to her tomorrow.”
“I understand. Thank you, Doctor . . . I’m very happy that she is going to be okay.”
“It would seem we have Mr. Stillman to thank, though I must admit I do not understand all that is going on with our patient. An’Taal, out.”
The channel closed and Edwards sat for a moment, pondering the words of Trevor Harney. Quickly, she entered the conversation into her PADD for later reference. She re-read their dialogue, shaking her head and wondering what Stillman would make of it.
Level 470 – Section Lambda
If anyone were in hearing range, they would have been aghast at the screams of pain that emanated from Section Lambda.
But of course, no one was in hearing range. No one of the flesh and blood world, at any rate.
Juud Mo howled in agony as waves of pain like rivulets of fire flowed through his body. The attempt to leach off the life essence of the Hadlu woman had not only failed but afflicted the pirate with an all-encompassing shroud of pain and misery. The reversal was tortuously slow as the gaping wound to his abdomen re-opened slowly – layer by layer. It was akin to being flayed with burning whip cords.
As the Orion thrashed about, he became vaguely aware of another presence. Whipping his head to his right, he saw his erstwhile comrade and lieutenant, Relk’fajiid, watching.
Spittle flew from Juud Mo’s lips as he managed to blurt out, “Help . . . me.”
Relk’fajiid walked forward and stood over the writhing form of the pirate. He made no move to offer assistance. Instead, a cold, feral smile formed on his lips.
“I think I have assisted you enough, Juud Mo,” he said. There was absolutely no pity in that voice. “You have fulfilled your usefulness to me.”
In spite of the searing pain, Juud’s eyes widened in horror as Relk’fajiid spoke and . . . changed. The Rigellian/Human morphed into a tall Human wearing a top hat, cloak, and apron. In his hand was an ancient but quite serviceable and sharp hunting knife.
Jack the Ripper smiled.
* * *
Promenade Deck
The “Earth Eatery” was as kitschy as its name implied. Tess found Todd Stillman already working on an impressive platter of breakfast food. Taking the seat across from him, she cast a skeptical eye on the eclectic Terran décor. A bizarre combination of items from every continent of Earth festooned the walls and the ceiling.
24th Century tacky, she thought.
At least the ordering system was modern in contrast to the Southern Cross Pub. She picked up the menu PADD, lifted an eyebrow at the myriad selections, then pressed the icon for coffee.
Stillman shoveled a forkful of omelet into his mouth. “Aren’t you going to order something?”
“Not really hungry,” she replied.
He shrugged. “Breakfast is still the most important meal of the day, Edwards.” Attacking a stack of pancakes, he asked. “How did the conversation with your boss, Admiral Torrington, go?”
A server drone floated up to the table and deftly placed a cup of coffee before Tess.
“I think it’s safe to say that his enticing offer of a promotion and command of the
Enterprise is off the table.”
Stillman winced. “Ow. Starfleet’s loss, though. What did he say?”
“Not a lot, actually. I gave him some of the basic events, sans references to our ancient Aborigine and the Orion with nine lives.”
“Seven,” he corrected. “That didn’t go over with him?”
“Actually, I don’t think he was expecting a lot since I’ve only been here a few days. It went downhill when I brought up my two predecessors. He suddenly became very defensive, telling me that those ‘details’ were not ‘relevant to my investigation.’ I politely told him he was full of crap . . . in a thoroughly respectful and professional manner, of course.”
“Of course,” agreed Stillman. “So when did the conversation go downhill?”
“Shut up, Stillman.” She stifled a yawn before sipping her coffee, wincing, then stirring in copious amounts of sugar and cream.
Todd regarded her quietly for a moment. “My finely honed investigative senses tell me you didn’t sleep well last night. Again.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute, stirring her coffee as she collected her thoughts.
“Bad dreams? . . . Or another visitor?” he pressed.
“Both, actually.” She told him of her odd dream about visiting Level 470 then her encounter with Trevor Harney.
“Are you sure that wasn’t part of the dream?” he asked.
“I’m fairly sure I was awake, not that it diminishes the surreal aspect of his visit.”
“You seem to be a regular on his social calendar. How about setting up a meeting between him and me?”
She smirked. “I don’t exactly have his com-code, Stillman. He did mention you, though.”
His eyebrows lifted. “All good, I hope?”
“He said you ‘intuited much, but only in the sense that a blind man intuits a sun because of a hot summer day.’”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m not sure whether to feel flattered or offended.”
“Commander Harney indicated you were on the money about your multi-verse, multi-reality theory, though I confess I certainly don’t understand it.”
“I don’t claim to understand it either, Edwards.”
“But how did you even arrive at such a conclusion?”
“You’ve been on this case for, what? 36 hours? I’ve been studying this starbase and the inexplicable events for three years, beginning with Juud Mo and the murder of Walter Krupp. I’ve got terrabytes of documents and interviews, some of which are technically classified code black and if I showed them to you I would have to kill you, or at least become very, very, irritated.”
She shook her head. “Okay, Don Quixote, you are still being intentionally evasive.”
“I go into more details in some of my published works.”
Tess lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve written books on the subject?”
He cleared his throat and actually looked uncomfortable. “Not books as such. But I’ve published several articles using an assumed name.”
“And where would I find these articles?”
Stillman hesitated so long she thought he was not going to answer. Finally, he spoke.
“
Alpha Quandary . . . Re-Think . . . Galactic News Daily . . .”
“Stillman! Those are scandal-rags and pseudo-science blogs!”
“I admit, a lot of the content is sketchy; but there are grains of truth in just about . . .”
She rubbed her forehead. “Can I see your I.D. again?”
“Come on, Edwards . . . is there anything you’ve experienced on this station that you could present to main-stream publishers that wouldn’t get you kicked out the door?”
She huffed. “No, I suppose not. But why bother publishing any of this . . .” she waved her hands about, “nightmare,” she finished.
“In case something happens to me, there will be a record.”
She leaned forward. “Do you realize how paranoid that sounds?”
“Okay, okay, let’s set aside my perhaps questionable choice of media venues for a moment. Think of all this like a giant puzzle, Edwards. You did put together puzzles as a kid, didn’t you? Or did you conduct stake outs of you neighbors for fun?”
She held up a warning finger. “You’re about to exceed my threshold for sarcasm, mister.”
“Duly noted. Answer the question.”
She folded her arms and sighed. “Yes, I played with puzzles. So what?”
“You start with a lot of pieces that are scattered. What do you do next?”
Shaking her head, she decided to humor him. “Well, to begin I would look at the picture on the box to know what the puzzle should look like.”
“Ah, but what if there is no picture.”
“I suppose it would be a lot harder to put together.”
“Exactly. But, knowing there
is a final image to work towards, you begin to work the pieces until an image appears, right?”
She rolled her eyes but nodded.
“So. You begin by realizing there is, in fact, a puzzle.”
“Is this a study in existentialism or early childhood education, Stillman?”
He ignored the jibe. “And with that realization, you attempt to fit pieces together. It’s a tedious process but after a while a hint of a picture appears. In this case, the pieces were Juud Mo, Walter Krupp, Relk’fajiid, and my grandfather . . . each leading me to this starbase where I found other pieces that connect . . . pieces that did not originate in our reality, Lt. Edwards.”
Tess slowly turned her coffee cup around on the table as she considered his words. “You realize, of course, you have told me virtually nothing.”
“I’m trying to help you see that there
is a big picture to discover. I don’t claim to have all the pieces or the complete image, but I’m getting closer.”
She thought again about what Trevor Harney (
The Guardian?) said. “I give you credit for answering a question without giving an answer. Did you go to law school, Stillman?”
He suddenly looked up and frowned in puzzlement. “Why are all those people running?”
As if on cue, her combadge chirped.
“All security units, converge on promenade level at the turbo-lifts. Reports of a dismembered head in a lift.”
She stared at Stillman. “Did he say,
head?”
“Let’s go!” he replied. They both hurried from the restaurant.
* * *
It took about three minutes for Edwards and Stillman to navigate against the crowd. Quite a number of people were visibly upset and the throng was in a state of near-panic.
They arrived to find two security officers present. One was bent over, ejecting his breakfast into a potted plant. The other, a visibly shaken but coherent Petty Officer recognized Edwards and came over to her.
“What happened?” asked Edwards.
“I . . . uh, sir . . . there’s a head in there. You might want to take a look.”
Stillman produced his credentials though the young petty officer scarcely gave them a look before waving him through. A few other security crewmen began to arrive. Tess turned.
“Garcia, set up a perimeter and keep the crowd back. Did you notify medical?”
“Yes sir, they’re on the way.”
“Witnesses? Who discovered the . . .” She almost said ‘body’ but corrected herself. “head?”
“I don’t know, sir, sorry . . . it was pretty chaotic when we arrived.”
“Never mind, we’ll figure that out later.”
She steeled herself and entered the lift where Stillman was on his haunches peering at the dismembered head of a red Orion male. The sight would have been macabre enough without the added bonus of of a rather large knife jammed deeply into one of the eye sockets. The victim’s mouth was open in a silent scream. Surprisingly, there was almost no blood present.
“Is that . . .?”
“Juud Mo. Yep.” He stood. “I have a hunch he’s run out of lives this time.”
To be continued . . .
I need to be more consistent. Security Chief and Deputy Chief are the official titles (and now edited to reflect that). No alternate universe involved . . . yet.
Thanks for catching that - fixed now.
