Reflections of Another Universe

Chapter One - CAPTIVE

Reflections of Another Universe-2^nd Edition

Rating: PG-13 for mild violence, language and some sexual situations
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek and the characters therein, all other original material is the property of the owner-even though I don't make money from this!
Archive: Please ask first, (misplacedagain at hotmail dot com)
Spoilers: "In a Mirror, Darkly" - sort of
Summary: The mirror universe crew of the NX-01 go on a mission to rescue a captured member of the crew... while trying to keep a mutiny on ship at bay.

A/N:

1. I originally wrote this fic in 2005 based soley on the spoilers for IaMD. At that time I only knew that Tucker had a scar and the MU characters would not be interacting with their RU counterparts.

2. I've cleaned up this fic (hence the 2^nd edition) - fixed errors and smoothed out some rough spots, but it still probably isn't as polished as I would like.

3. Enjoy my alternate version of the Mirror Universe!

4. (Yes, for those who have read this fic before, I am currently writing the sequel!)

i.

"Sonofabitch!"

The room was warm-too warm for his human tastes, but Commander Tucker supposed that he wasn't meant to be comfortable. He ignored the sweat beading on his neck and back, soaking his undershirt. Instead, he had his hands deep inside the wall, feeling out the wiring and components. His fingers traced the paths that the cabling went as far as the hole would allow him to. Nothing made any sense. It was all so damned alien.

He hit another dead-end. Another end to his escape plans. In a fury, he picked up the rust-colored wall panel that he'd manage to pry from the wall and threw it against the door-letting out a primal growl. It struck with a loud bang and clattered to the floor without making a dent.

It pretty much represented the futility that the Commander was feeling right now. He sat down on his sparse bunk, unconsciously rubbing the long scar that puckered his right cheek. He knew there had to be some way within those walls to trigger the brig door. There had to be some way to escape before the Vulcans tortured and killed him. Trip wasn't going to go without a fight.

He mentally reviewed what he had discovered so far, noting all the false leads. His brilliant mind began deducing new possibilities. Maybe that wall there or maybe the ceiling... He was formulating his next plan of attack when the door abruptly opened with a quiet swish.

Trip groaned inwardly, frustrated that he would have to delay his plans now. It was surely time for another dance of pointless questioning. He looked up at his inquisitor and was startled to find not the usual, tall stoic male Vulcan. It was a petite female, strikingly beautiful despite her pointed ears and upswept brow.

Well, that's something new, he thought to himself, unconsciously licking his lip.

She took in the small room before turning to face him with a steely gaze. "It is illogical to attempt to escape in this manner," she spoke with a rich voice. For a brief second, he wondered if she had somehow read his mind. He thought he heard somewhere that her species had telepathic ability.

She continued, "The components necessary for opening the door are not housed within the cell walls."

"It's something to pass time, darlin'," he said with a snort. So, it bothers you that I make such a mess, does it? he mused. What was that? Did he just see a flicker in her eyes? Was she annoyed? No, he reminded himself, Vulcans don't have feelings.

"Charles Tucker the Third," she read off of a device in her hand that bore a slight resemblance to a PADD.

And commence the interrogation, he smirked as he leaned against the wall. Since his capture, he had been questioned almost every hour it seemed. At least this time he had a pretty face to look at during his interrogation. She would have been quite breathtaking... if she wasn't his captor. Damn Vulcans, he thought as he brought himself back into the moment.

"Why was your ship in this sector of space?" she asked. It was the same question every time. Not that he expected anything else, but still, it was getting tedious.

He gave her an enigmatic grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's my little secret, darlin'."

There it was again, that flicker in her eyes. On second thought, this may turn out to be more interesting than he'd originally thought. She stepped closer to him and looked down on him with a face of stone.

"Surely, you must understand that cooperation would be in your best interest," she stated the fact coldly. He chuckled at her, the thought of 'Like hell!' prevalent in his mind.

"Whatever do you mean? I like things just the way they are, sweetheart." Again, a fiery glint flickered in her eyes. Oh yes, this was definitely the most interesting interrogation that he's had so far.

"Mister Tucker-"

"Commander."

"Commander Tucker," another twitch around her eyes, "Commander Tucker, my name is Sub-commander T'Pol. I would prefer it if you would address me as such."

"Oh, really?" asked Trip, loving how agitated she seemed to be getting.

"Really, Commander."

"Only if you say please." Her jaw tightened.

"Please, Commander," she responded through slightly clenched teeth.

There was no way in hell that he was going to play nice, but he still answered, "All right, I'll do my best."

She stared at him as if trying to gauge his honesty. Pretty eyes, he thought, such deep olive green that they could be mistaken for brown. Then he reminded himself that they were Vulcan eyes.

."I repeat my question: What was your ship doing in this sector?"

"And I repeat my answer: None of your damn business," he replied with a look that would intimidate most humans.

T'Pol was nonplussed. "Commander, it is my business, as you say. This is Vulcan space. What were you doing in this sector?"

Trip was tired of being asked this same question three times in the course of ten minutes. He leered at her.

"Maybe I was just looking for a nice piece of Vulcan ass, like yours."

She backhanded him with more force than he thought any women, human or Vulcan, capable of. He tasted blood in his mouth and he was sure that she had fractured his cheekbone. Despite the excruciating pain that brought a tear to his eye, Trip couldn't help grinning like an idiot. Vulcans can be cracked.

It took him a moment to realize that she was leaving.

"I guess this means that I won't be seeing you again," he said as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Undoubtedly," she replied without turning to face him. She signaled for the door to be opened.

"That's too bad," he said, "I kinda like you."

She stiffened-if a Vulcan could stiffen more-as she stepped through the doorway. She glanced back over her shoulder briefly just as the door was closing. Trip was sure he saw that fiery glint in her eyes once more. He was also sure that he would demand that she be her interrogator from now on.

Let the games begin, he thought as his deep laughter echoed off of the walls.

ii.

T'Pol stood on the other side of the door, caressing her green-tinged hand and flexing her fingers. It was stinging quite painfully. She could hear his laughter through the walls and it was... disturbing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the guards looking at her expectantly. She shook her head slightly and his eyes darkened.

This was the first time that they had found humans in Vulcan space since the "Terran Accords" some forty years previous.

The Vulcans had indeed made first contact with Earth when the humans had achieved their first successful warp flight. The relationship had been amicable enough at first, even with the humans being far less advanced technologically than the Vulcans. The Vulcans took on a mentoring role, but the humans desired to progress faster than the Vulcans counseled. Eventually the humans bristled under the Vulcan advisors and threw them off of Earth. Shortly after, the "Terran Accords" were reached and territory lines were drawn.

Between the recent Syrannite revolution and keeping the Andorians at bay, Vulcans had little time or interest in the activities of the humans.

So it was a surprise while on a routine tour of the L'Prin system deep in Vulcan space that they discovered a human warp ship. There had been weapons fired on both sides and eventually the human ship retreated. Only after that did they discover a shuttlecraft on one of the moons as well as a small team of three humans.

The Vulcans gleaned as much data as they could from the shuttlecraft's computer, but there were no answers to the mission of the humans. The terrans had now been in custody for their second day, and none of them were providing any answers either.

T'Pol had questioned all three of them, Commander Tucker last. They had all been rude and uncooperative. However, she found questioning the Commander more... bothersome. Perhaps it was just a culmination of the behaviors of the three of them that caused her to act out physically. Still, she had been in situations that could produce anything resembling discomfort far worse than what she felt when interrogating the Commander, and had kept a cool head.

Odd.

She decided a cup of tea and some meditation was in order.

iii.

Archer sat at his desk fuming. He held a PADD in his hand but he wasn't so much looking at it as burrowing holes through it. The Captain was angry and someone was going to pay. The door chimed and he slammed the comm button with the palm of his hand.

"Who is it?"

"Lieutenant Reed," the voice came over the speaker. Great, thought Archer. What does the little upstart want now?

"You may enter."

The door slid open to reveal the dark-haired Englishman. He was wearing a cold expression, but that was not unusual. Archer and Trip had speculated, during some of their more drunken moments, on whether or not Malcom wore that same expression while making love. The images it brought to mind made for raucous laughter.

"What is it?" Archer demanded roughly.

"We've returned to the coordinates, and the Vulcan ship is gone."

Archer felt a glimmer of relief, but quickly chastised himself. The Vulcan bastards had crippled his ship temporarily, but that was no reason to fear them-he should be eager to repay them for the kindness. Archer hardened his face, concerned that Malcom might have noticed the momentarily lapse. The security chief was an ambitious little man that would exploit any weakness in his commanding officer.

"And the shuttle-Commander Tucker?" he asked.

Malcom hesitated only slightly, but not before Archer noticed. "The shuttle is missing as well as Commander Tucker and his team."

Archer slammed his fist against the desk, toppling a stack of PADDs.

"Dammit!"

"Sir, I think we have to assume that the Vulcans have killed the away team." There was a hint of hope in Malcom's voice, and it grated on Archer.

He stood up and walked over to the lieutenant, using his height to tower over him. "Lieutenant Reed," he spoke in a quiet but steely voice, "I didn't ask for speculation."

"I understand, sir," replied Malcom through his teeth, a scowl plainly on his face. Archer stared him down a moment longer.

"Good." Archer sat back down at his desk. "Have our sensors picked up their warp trail?"

"Yes."

"Then why the hell are you standing there? Dismissed."

Malcom brought his fist to his heart and bowed his head slightly before he left the room. Archer crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw muscles flexing. He was going to find that Vulcan ship, and get his first officer back.

And if the bastards had killed Trip, he was going to give them a lesson in revenge.