Mirror Memories I

 Episode Name:  Mirror Memories I

   Written By:  Eidolon

         Cast:  Eidolon and Hurley

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Eidolon

     Aired On:  Sat Jul 09 22:55:53 2005

     Stardate:  55103.4

Time: Sat Oct 16 17:46:45 2004

Stardate: 54464.5

The middle of the night in the Governor's palace is a time for sleep. Havaris snores peacefully in his bed, stretched across the bed after returning from the latest mission embarked upon by the Right Hand of Churas.

Moonlight floods the room, casting a pale, etheral glow across the piano. All is silent, save for Kusto's snoring. All is still.

Christine has been getting more and more restless as time wears on. She's been trapped away from home for months at this point, with only a piano to keep her sane; and it's not like she was ever truely interested in practicing and playing as it is. With her restlessness has come a strange form of insomnia and impatience for the morning to arrive and leave her with complete privacy. As such, she's become quite good at sneaking - in and out of the suite, in and out of Kusto's room. Tonight, she heads for the door to try to satisify her urge to work on escape with a simple walk through the hallways of the palace.

The door slides open at her approach, allowing her freedom to move into the hallway beyond. As the door whispers open, Kusto shifts in his bed, and then is still once more.

Hurley exhales only after she gets outside the door and it slides shut behind her. "I will tell him," Christine assures herself as she walks barefoot down the hallway, "when he's not in one of his.. grumpy moods from the missions. And.. well, awake. Awake is good. But, Heaven and Prophets help us both if I have to explain the physics behind.." Reaching a corner, she pauses and takes a moment to peer at the upcoming direction change before moving forward.

Maybe it's fate, or just another example of her family's horrible luck. As she peers around the corner, something changes.

Perhaps it's a new breath of sound flowing down the hall -- a subtle whining noise. Perhaps it's a gust of wind that picks up outside. Perhaps it's nothing but the feeling that causes the hair on the back of one's neck to stand on end.

Either way, it heralds doom. A staccato of explosions sound in the distance, moving rapidly closer.

Hurley's eyes widen and she turns and bolts back for Kusto's suite. She needs to warn him - she needs to get him up. She comes to a halt in front of the door, which seems to take forever to open, but when it does, she cries out, "KUSTO!" while trying to draw in breath from her sudden sprint. Piano practice, it would seem, is not a good replacement for Physical Training.

Havaris, to his credit, is already on his feet with a Bajoran phaser in hand when she races through the doors. "What's going on?"

More explosions ripple through the air, borne by a screaming sound that's all-too-familiar to Hurley -- Starfleet photon torpedoes are raining down on the palace.

Eyes still widened, Christine shakes her head to the question, but doesn't stop inside the door. No, she runs further into the suite. "Explosions!" she calls just as more ripple behind her, but it's the torpedo's screaming that gets her attention and causes her head to snap back in the direction of the door with her jaw dropped. "That.. that sound. Casya." attention shift, "Where's Casya?"

"In her room," Kusto snaps as he races for the door, pushing past her. "Stay here with her!" And then he vanishes into the bustle which has erupted in the hallway -- Klingons and Cardassians running back and forth as they race for their battle stations.

The explosions suddenly fall silent, replaced by a new sound -- the whine of multiple transports.

It's as though she was taking an order from Lieutenant Havaris. Upon the snapped order, Christine turned on her heel and was well on her way to Casya's bedroom. Not even knocking, she throws the door open and rushes inside. "Casya?" she calls, calmly as only her training can explain. "Casya, come here, please."

. o O Hurley thinks "My phaser. I have my phaser hidden in Kusto's room."

Casya clutches a sheet to her chest as she sits in bed, tears brimming in her eyes. "I... I can't," she whispers. "They're coming for us, and they'll kill us all."

A firefight erupts in the distance -- Klingon disruptors and something that -sounds- like old-model Starfleet phasers. More explosions, smaller this time, float on the air.

"No, they aren't," Christine says calmly, casting a glance over her shoulder while placing the phaser fire behind her. "Please, Casya. Kusto will protect us. Remember? You told me that a long time ago now. He will. Come on. Let's go hide in his room. He'll protect us."

Casya shakes her head, sobbing now. "I can't!" she insists between sobs.

. o O Hurley thinks "I /need/ to get to my phaser. Not like I'll hit the broad side of the piano, but I need to get to it. And my communicator."

Hurley looks over her shoulder again and exhales. "Ok, Casya. I'll.. I'll be right back. Don't move, ok? Stay right there." She turns and sprints down the hallway, rounds a corner into Kusto's room and flings herself onto the floor pillows, immediately digging for the loose tile where she's hidden her equipment.

The firefight starts to move closer, the scream of energy weapons increasing in volume. In the hallway beyond the door, there's another sound of transporter activity which is greeted with even more weapons fire.

Casya starts to scream in terror in her room, rolling off her bed and crawling underneath it.

"Casya!" Christine screams, grabbing the phaser from behind the loose tile. On her feet, she casts only a brief glance at the remnants of the communicator she's been trying to tweak, then rushes out of Kusto's room with phaser already drawn and ready. "Casya, answer me!"

. o O Hurley thinks "I shouldn't have left her. I shouldn't have left. What was I /thinking/? I *know* better. Why did I leave her?"

"HELP ME!" Casya screams, still cowering under her bed. Beyond the door, the Klingon disruptor fire starts to die off.

Hurley's gaze is drawn towards the bed as she finally makes it into the bedroom. "Casya, stay under there. Ok? You'll be alright. Just stay there. Everything will be alright." After a quick glance around the room, she closes and steps away from the door. "Why oh why didn't I get more training from Tak /before/ being flung into the wrong universe? I mean, come on. What are the chances that this would happen to me? Low enough that I should've known it actually *would* happen - being a Harris offspring and all," she mumbles to herself while glancing down at the phaser in her hands.

It's at this moment that Kusto barges through the door, firing back over his shoulder as a blue phaser bolt zips past his head to splash against the wall. "CHRISTINE!" he yells, beginning to round the corner before his eyes flare wide... and then he dissolves, his phaser clattering to the floor.

Casya continues to scream incoherently under the bed.

Hurley's head snaps in the direction of Havaris' voice, just in time to see him dissolve and the phaser fall to the floor. Her eyes widen and jaw drops, hands shaking and barely able to keep the phaser steady. "Kusto..." she whispers, tears brimming in her eyes. But, she's off-set from the door - the only physical entrance to the room, with her phaser pointed directly at it.

More phaser fire sounds in hallway beyond the door. There's a thump of a body falling to the ground. Silence for a few moments, save for Casya's screaming. And then, a voice. "I've got two lifesigns in here. One's armed -- one Terran, one Orion."

There's a pause, and then a new voice speaks. "Throw down your weapons and we won't hurt you! We're here to help!"

Hurley is still staring at the spot where Kusto dissolved, jaw still dropped while she chokes back tears. She calls out over Casya's screaming, her voice every bit as shakey as her hands, "Identify yourself or I will... attack.." muttering, "or something.." Slowly, she sinks to her knees, but manages to keep the phaser pointed at the door.

There's an eruption of fire, and two figures, encased in black armor of some sort, fall back through the door before slamming it shut. "We're Terrans," the shorter of the two figures calls. "We're here to free you."

"By killing more?!" Christine demands, phaser turning to aim at the shorter of the two who fell into the room as she reaches to try to kick Kusto's phaser towards Casya. "Oh, there's a good idea. Keep shooting until there's noone left to shoot back." See, there are several phases of acceptance of death, and the poor Ensign is quickly going through them. "*You* throw down *your* weapons, then we can talk about freedom."

"-They- are going to kill us if we don't get out of here," the short one snaps, his phaser snapping to take aim at her head. "Now, we have got to get out of here. Drop your weapon, or end up like your Bajoran friend."

Casya just whimpers under the bed, while the tall guy watches the door.

"Let me tell you something about my Bajoran *friend*," Christine rather uncharacteristically snarls at the officer, "He was killed while trying to *protect us*. *You* killed him while he was trying to *protect us*. Why else do you think he was coming into /this room/ while outnumbered? Why should I trust you at this point? Because you're threatening to do the same to me? I'm going to take a wild guess that it isn't on stun," she spares only a slight glance at the phaser. "Who are you? And who's command are you under? Those were Starfleet torpedos, but this isn't a Starfleet mission."

"I'm Lieutenant D'Artegno, and yes, this most assuredly is a -Starfleet- mission," the short one snaps. "Now, put your weapon down. Mister Byers, get us the hell out of here."

The tall one -- Byers, apparently -- taps a small panel on his wrist, and it starts blinking.

. o O Hurley thinks "Good lord. This *can't* be a Starfleet mission. My DataPADD. No. I'm not leaving it behind. No. Nononononononono."

"I have equipment I need to get," Christine says rather calmly considering the extreme emotions at the moment. "I'm not leaving without my equipment." She lowers her phaser, but her hands remain on it while it remains readied.

"Go. You have... twenty-five seconds," D'Artegno mutters, keeping his eye on the door.

Casya whimpers, "Don't leave me.."

"Casya," Christine says, holding a hand out towards the green woman, "Come with me. Come on." She eases to her feet and turns to keep her eyes on D'Artegno while backing to the door. "I won't let them hurt you."

"Twenty seconds," D'Artegno grumbles. "I will leave you here, I swear it."

Casya starts to crawl from under the bed, very slow like.

Hurley watches Casya with her jaw set and backs against the door, feeling for the handle and carefully opening it just slightly. "There you go, come on, hurry up, sweetheart. We need to run." Now, now she has to decide where to look. The untrustworthy officers or the unknown behind her. With her phaser still pointed in front of her, she peers over her shoulder and throw the crack by the door into the hallway. "Casya, hurry."

The hallway is clear at the moment, a quite dead Klingon leaning at an odd angle on the opposite wall.

"Fifteen seconds," Byers notes helpfully while Casya scurries out from under the bed and joins Christine.

"Casya," Christine says calmly as she slips her spare hand to hold the Orion's and nudges the door the rest of the way open with her bare foot. "Whatever happens, listen to me and trust me, ok? I won't let them hurt you. I promise." Once the door is opened, she runs down the hallway, tugging Casya past the dead Klingon on the wall and into Kusto's room again. She finally releases Casya's hand so Christine can gather the DataPADD, tricorder and communicator guts. "Hold this," she insists, thrusting the tricorder at the green woman, then starts shoving communicator bits in her corset to prepare to head back down the hall.

Casya nods obediently, taking hold of all the bits that are handed to her. The hallway remains deserted as well.

It doesn't take long for the duo to get back down the hallway, and Christine pauses only in front of the Klingon to again shield Casya from the body, then pushes ahead of the Orion so she enters the room in front of Casya. The shorter of the officers, however, still earns a glare from the Ensign.

Byers is counting down when they arrive. "...three... two... one... mark." The world dissolves in a transporter effect...

And all four appear on an outdated, but still standard issue Starfleet transporter platform. In fact, it's identical to some of the ships in the fleet museum, save for one rather glaring detail: the bulkhead behind the transporter console features a large Starfleet chevron which has been neatly impaled by a knife. The operator behind the console thuds a fist against his chest, then extends his arm, palm out before returning to his duties.

D'Artegno hops off the platform. "Come on, come on!" he urges.

A hesitant Christine does eventually move off of the transporter platform and carefully shoves the phaser into her corset with a small mental note, her gaze falling on and focusing on the Starfleet chevron on the bulkhead. "I suppose it was too much to hope it was /my/ Starfleet arriving," she mutters, then reaches a hand towards Casya. "I won't let them hurt you," she insists again.

Casya allows herself to be coaxed from the platform, taking hold of Hurley's hand with a death grip. Byers follows, and soon the platform is cleared -- only to allow another transport cycle to begin.

"Who are you?" D'Artegno asks as he heads for the intercom panel. "How did you know we were Starfleet?"

"Christine Hurley," comes the response, obviously leaving out a few details for the time being. "I recognized the sounds," she says simply, glancing around as she approaches the intercom panel with D'Artegno. "Who is in command here? What are you planning to do with us? And can I access a communications console?"

"That's the captain's call," the man replies as he hits the button. "Bridge, we've got the last team."

The comm panel crackles to life, bearing an all-too-familiar voice. "Good, Lieutenant. Helm, engage the cloak. Get us the hell out of here."

The lights throughout the ship dim, followed by the sounds of the warp engines powering up.

Hurley's attention snaps to the comm panel and her hope builds. "Grandfather," she whispers and absent-mindedly squeezes Casya's hand. "I need to see the Captain," she says, eyes starting to take on the shine they have normally despite what she's just been through. "Please."

"Soon enough. Let's get you down to sickbay first," D'Artegno responds. "You've both been through a lot."

Time: Sun Oct 24 17:38:12 2004

Stardate: 54483.7

Casya's screaming is heard over phaser fire down the hallway, a jerky glance from the bed under which Casya is hiding and towards the door of the room shows a hallway, the wall of which seems to extend forever through the suite. Christine hears herself trying to calm Casya, while trying to gather her own senses as an officer not really trained for this kind of a situation. Through her eyes, the attention returns to Casya cowering under the bed while she listens at the phaser fire getting closer. And closer. She closes the door, steps away and crouches in between the bed and doorway, while bringing her phaser to aim at the door.

But, her attention is drawn back to Casya's screaming, her heart wrenching at the poor Orion's terror and confusion. Attention snaps back towards the door as Kusto bursts in, and calls out her name. Christine's eyes widen and she's about to approach him, HELP him, when the entire universe slows down. She can see the blue bolt that hits him in the middle of the back, his Bajoran phaser crashing to the floor. She hears herself scream out his name, but all that escapes from her lips is a mild whisper. She wants to go to him; she wants to protect *him*, but he slowly dissolves before her eyes. And, before he's gone, their eyes lock: Christine's terrified and helpless gaze meeting Kusto's dead...

Christine bolts upright, eyes opening wide as she wakes from the nightmare and immediately looks to her hands and coverings. She's still in her double-layered sheer dress, but very disoriented. Slowly, she lifts her gaze and tries to focus on her surroundings, but instead drops her head to her knees that bend upwards to meet with her forehead. "Kusto," she whispers into her dress-covered knees. "I'm so sorry."

The door chime sounds -- a haunting echo of familiarity in a universe that's not as it should be.

Hurley is just about to hollar her typical response to the sound, but catches herself and glances back towards the sleeping Casya. She slips off the side of the bed and pads barefoot towards the door, waiting patiently for it to slide open at her approach.

On the other side of the door stands an officer, clad in the dark reflection of this universe's Starfleet uniform-- a black jacket and pants with accents of a crimson color, darkened to the color of coagulated Terran blood. He seems tired, with the green eyes of a man that has seen the destruction of all that he held near and dear, and the streaks of silver tainting this otherwise young man's hair speak volumes of the stress he has weathered and somehow overcome.

Captain Robert Harris straightens up, offering a crisp nod across the doorframe. "Miss Hurley? I believe you wanted to speak with me?"

. o O Robert Harris thinks "I've got to get rid of her. She's a liability."

Her already moistened eyes fill with unshead tears as Christine looks the man up and down. She thought she had herself under control; she thought she had herself as detached from this universe as she possibly could, but the green eyes seemingly reflecting back at her - the same green eyes she, herself, has, break everything she's told herself. Her arms fling around the older man's neck and she forces the poor unsuspecting Captain into an embrace as only Christine Hurley is capable, her tears wetting her chosen shoulder of the black Starfleet jacket. "I can't believe you're here," she whispers. "I can't believe it's you."

Robert Harris blinks as he's pulled into the hug, standing quite still as she starts to cry. "You've been through a hard time, Miss," he offers after a moment of silence to allow her to come to grips with whatever might be wrong. "And you've mistaken me for someone else, I'm afraid."

Harris has arrived.

"No," Christine says, shaking her head into his shoulder. "I know exactly who you are. I just don't know how.. well, I mean, I know how *my* Grandfather accidently time traveled, but I didn't expect you to.. is Grandmo.. Anika.. here, too?" She stops her blubbering, and brings her head back to look up at the Captain. "I need to use a communications console. I can explain everything if you can just let me use a communications console for a few minutes. Please."

If she could have punched him in the stomach, it would have caused less pain than the words that came out of her mouth just now. Stunned, Harris disentangles himself from her. "How do you know about her?" he asks, looking sick. "Who are you?"

"Christine Hurley," she responds quickly, a little hurt at the response, but not really that surprised. "Daughter of Robert and Jeanne Hurley. Well, I just assumed.. I mean, you're his mirror, right? Well, mirror is a strange word.." her eyebrows furrow upwards and she simply drops her arms at her sides. "I'm in the wrong universe, and I want to go home."

Harris shakes his head, managing to recover his composure after a few moments of silence. "I... don't know any of those people," he offers softly. "I'm sorry." He still looks rather violently ill, however.

. o O Harris thinks "It was a mistake. A simple mistake, that's all."

Hurley, slightly confused, regards the man with a deepening hurt. "I need your help," she tries again, hands clasping together and raising towards her chest. "Please. I was accidently brought to this universe from another. I don't belong here. You're my.." she stops, closes her eyes and releases somewhat of a pained sigh, "in my universe, Robert Harris and Anika Jorgenson are my grandparents. We're not .. well... please, I need your help."

Harris stares at her for a long moment, his mouth working with no words coming out. "You say that... my wife and I are your grandparents?" he finally asks, torn between wanting to believe and the extreme opposite.

"You.." Christine blinks slowly, eyes refocusing on the man in front of her. "you married.. grandmother..An..Anika?" But, she shakes it off and draws in a quick breath. "In my universe, yes. I'm coming to you because I don't know who I can trust. The resistance and my team left me in the palace. I'm sure it was an accident, but.. what if it wasn't? She shoved me in a closet, and when I finally got out, they were gone.. and I was left behind. I want to go home. I need to go home. I miss my family."

"You're from the other side? The..." Harris frowns, still distracted. "Oh... the Federation."

Hurley's eyes widen. "Yes!" she declares and rambles on as quickly as she can, "The Federation! I'm an officer in their Starfleet. Ensign Christine Anika Hurley, Communications Officer assigned to Station 419 in the Dulcais sector. I serve with my Grandfather, the other you, Lieutenant Junior Grade Robert Harris, the best pilot my universe has ever seen." She shifts on her feet and glances back into the room. "We could sit down and talk about it? Then you'll help me?"

Harris leans back against the bulkhead, his mind whirling. "Lieutenant Junior... Dulcais Sector?" He rubs the bridge of his nose. "We should talk about it, yeah."

The familiar sign from the same, but not same man, seems to hurt Christine just a bit more, but rather than show it, she turns and heads towards the living area of the quarters she now temporarily shares with Casya. Her steps show that typical bouncy energy despite the lack of cheer in her tone and actions, and rather than sit, she turns on her bared heels to face Harris again. "You know of the resistance, I assume?" she asks, hands falling to her sides.

"The resistance against the Alliance. I don't know much, but yeah... I know about it," Harris replies as he follows, settling onto the couch.

Hurley doesn't sit, and instead begins rapidly telling her tale, speaking with her hands and pacing all the while. "Two of their cell leaders were captured. The need to save them drove them to develop a way to travel between our universes. They crossed the rift and attempted to steal one of our shuttlecrafts. While they were crossing back to their universe, were were attempting to transport a security team from Operations directly to the shuttle bay. Next thing we knew, everyone in Operations was enveloped in a strange light and we somehow ended up on the bridge of the shuttlecraft. Fortunately, we had a skeleton crew of six people in Operations at the time, so there were only eight people on the bridge of the Baer, including the two Resistance members. Well, we were roped into helping them save their leaders - they refused to send us back unless we did - and during the mission, I ran into..." she pauses and avoids all possible eye contact with the captain, "a servant in the palace who was startled, and she shoved me into the closet. Casya heard me calling for help and let me out, but by then it was too late. The palace alarms went off and apparently the resistance leaders had disappeared. They had no idea who was behind it, but scanned for human life signs, which is how they found me, and how I ended up.." her gaze drops down her form, the tell-tale concubine dress (despite her alterations) all the way to her bared feet. After a brief moment of silence, she lifts her gaze to the captain again and sighs sadly. "I don't know why I was left behind, but I *want to go home*."

Harris attempts to digest that all, frowning thoughtfully. After a moment, he murmurs, "I don't have the ability to send you home."

"If I can use a communications console," Christine says softly, "I can send an encrypted message back to my station. They might have a way to bring me home - especially if I can get the message to Grandfather. He'll bring me home."

"Why should I trust you?" Harris asks after a moment, pushing to his feet and tugging on his uniform. "This is quite possibly the only Imperial starship left. The vast majority of my people are slaves -- and allowing you to send a transmission might be the end of us all." He pauses, a sad look settling onto his features as he unconsciously rubs his wedding band.

. o O Harris thinks "She'll contact the Alliance and sell us out. This got started because -their- Kirk meddled with our universe. God only knows what they'd destroy now."

. o O Harris thinks "God, I wish Annie was here."

Hurley winces. She hadn't expected a denial, which only means she has to work harder. "Because I trust you," she insists, stepping towards the man. "Because my grandfather would do everything in his power to help someone in my position. Because I need help and you're the only person I feel I can trust. Please."

Harris folds his arms over his chest. "Your grandfather sounds like a failure to me. He's over a century old and is only a jay-gee? I was a jay-gee when I left the Academy."

Shocked, Christine's jaw drops and she quickly shakes her head while taking a step back. "No..." Eyebrows furrow and she's brought to immediately defend her grandfather to.. well, her grandfather. "After his temporal displacement, he was sent back to the academy; there had been a lot of changes in the Federation and Starfleet over those 80 years, and he had to relearn from scratch." She exhales and continues on, "He's... he's not a failure."

"He lost her too," Harris whispers, his voice filled with mourning. "What's my middle name? What year was your father born in?"

"Sean," Christine says without hesitation. "Father was born in," she does have to think on this and her eyes slide shut while doing the math in her head, "2294. The year after Grandfather..." she doesn't finish it. She doesn't have to. She simply sighs again and slowly opens her eyes to look at a spot on the floor.

Harris closes his eyes. "Robbie," he whispers, settling back onto the couch. "You can use the comm array."

Hurley is quiet for a long moment, then says, softly, "I have coordinates stored in my DataPADD where we need to go to send the message to ensure they get it. I can't mask the message, as the resistance does, because Starfleet tranceivers do not use that communications stealth technology, and thus, the communique would simply appear as noise. They probably wouldn't read it. Which means, once the message is sent, we can only wait a little while for a response before having to clear the area." She pauses, then hangs her head, "that's what we did last time.. before.. we went to the palace."

"I'll see what I can do about getting us there," Harris murmurs, pushing himself to his feet. "The cloak should protect us."

"Thank you," Christine says, rather solemnly considering her elation earlier. She doesn't lift her head, she simply stands still with arms hugging against her chest. After a brief moment of hesitation, she asks, gaze still pointed downwards, "Is.. he.. still alive here?"

Harris lifts a brow, folding his hands behind his back. "Is who still alive here?"

Another moment of hesitation follows the question, but Christine finally speaks up, "Father? Robert..?"

"I..." Tears well up in Harris' eyes before he shakes his head and turns for the door. "I don't know."

Hurley sniffs and chokes back a few tears. She had hoped. Even if it wasn't *her* father he would still be... She sighs and finally settles on the sofa that Harris has vacated. "He's not in my universe," she whispers, barely audibly.

Harris' shoulders slump, and he hangs his head. "Here, my wife -- and our children -- were on Earth when the Alliance conquered it. I don't know if any of them survived."

"How did you end up in the future?" Christine asks, still rather somberly.

"Grand Admiral Spock ordered us to slingshot around a star to find weapons from the future to use against the Alliance," Harris replies softly, squaring his shoulders and straightening up once again. "So we did."

Hurley is silent for a long moment, then asks. "Did you find anything?"

Harris gestures to either side. "This. I'll let you know when we're in position." And then he makes for the doors.

"Do you want the coordinates?" Christine asks, finally rising to her feet. "I can get them for you."

"Send them to the bridge," Rob replies listlessly before he heads out into the hallway.

Hurley nods in response, even though the man can't see her, and slumps back onto the sofa. "I'm almost home, Grandfather. I'll be home soon."

Time: Sun Oct 31 20:20:22 2004

Stardate: 54500.8

The Exeter slips through space, the lights dimmed for the night cycle. Through the viewports, the Sandstorm looms nearby, plasma lightning flickering deep within. The all-call whistles, and a soft male voice with a Spanish accent fills the air. "Bridge to Ensign Hurley."

Tired from not having slept recently, Christine is simply reclined on the sofa in the living area of the quarters assigned to Casya and her. With a sigh, she lifts her chin upwards to respond. "I'm here, Garcia. What's going on?" She lifts one of her feet upwards to admire the extremely modest shoes with which she's been equipped and casts a glance back towards the bedroom holding her sleeping charge.

"Captain Harris requests your presence in the briefing room," Garcia's voice replies, still soft. "Deck 5, section 4."

"I'm on my way," Christine says, pushing herself off the sofa and heading towards the door. "Do you have any kind of scoop? Something to warn me?"

Garcia chuckles ruefully. "'Fraid not. Bridge out."

Hurley shrugs and smiles slightly to herself. "Ah well." She offers one last look to the sleeping area, then approaches the door and waits for it to slide open and permit her leave. Through the corridor, she makes her way through the seemingly familiar ship and to the briefing room as directed.

Already parked at the table are Harris and a severe looking Vulcan in a science-division uniform. Harris is sitting on the edge, staring at a wall viewscreen with a map of the sector on it. "...patrols near Dulcais Prime, Occa, and Iridosia. There's no heavy activity near Bak'TUR, though... even after our attack. Why?" Harris is asking the Vulcan.

The other man arches a brow. "There is not sufficient information to determine the outcome."

Politeness and protocol would require Ensign Hurley to chime the door before entering, but the distracted woman waves her hand in front of the plate just in time to hear the end of the conversation. Unsure if she's expected to respond, she simply allows that hand to drop to her side and she looks between the two men, silently.

Harris glances toward Hurley, raising a brow. "Come in, Ensign," he calls before he nods to the Vulcan. "Thank you for the update. That'll be all, Commander Strell."

The Vulcan stands, heading for the exit. As he passes, he offers a respectful, "Ensign," and then he's gone.

As the Vulcan passes, Hurley bows her head respectfully, then turns towards Harris. "I'm sorry. Garcia told me you wanted me to report and.." She simply stops, exhales, then offers her quick smile. "You always look so serious."

Harris has left.

"This is a war," Harris replies simply, pushing to his feet and wiping his hands on his tunic.

Hurley nods. "I know, but.." she bites at her lower lip, the smile slowly dissipating. "..but sometimes you still have to be.. well, human.. but, that's beside the point. You called, and naturally, I want to help. So, how can I help?"

Eidolon gestures at the viewscreen. "We sent your message. No replies as of yet," he replies softly. "So, I thought I'd let you know that we can't hang around in this area much longer. We're going to try and hit an Alliance supply convoy."

Robert Harris gestures at the viewscreen. "We sent your message. No replies as of yet," he replies softly. "So, I thought I'd let you know that we can't hang around in this area much longer. We're going to try and hit an Alliance supply convoy."

Obviously disappointed, Christine dips her head and draws in a quick breath. "I .. understand." She averts her eyes to the viewscreen and says, rather simply, "I can't even guarantee they *will* respond. I.." Her voice is much, much softer now, barely audible above a whisper, "I don't even know why I was left in the first place. They.. may not respond. They may not even receive it. They.. might not.. come."

Turning his gaze to the viewscreen, Harris releases a soft sigh. "We can use good officers, Ensign. I know you're stuck here, and it's not your own doing... but you can do some good. You've seen what we're up against, and you know that we can't win this fight without help."

"And I've already told you," Christine says, a sadness looming in her voice, "that I completely understand the fight for freedom, but this isn't a fight that'll ever be won. It will span until one side is *gone*. Dead. Completely finished." Her arms fold across her stomach and she again sadly lifts her gaze towards the viewscreen. "A viscious cycle that's not broken by fighting, but also won't break without the fighting either. I don't know what to think about it, Grandfather. I simply don't know."

Robert Harris folds his arms over his chest, furrowing his brows as he watches the viewscreen. "They pushed us back over years of fighting, you know. We ceded system after system, and they kept coming."

Hurley nods. "I know. And for every victory they win, they believe they've saved more of their people from our barbaric people." Pausing a beat, she says, "One man's freedom-fighting hero is another's terrorist." She only allows the comment to settle in for a moment, then exhales. "If.. if they don't respond.. I'll start training with Garcia right away. It is, afterall, the least I can do." Drawing in a breath, she adds, "on the condition that Casya is allowed to stay with me indefinitely."

"Done," Harris replies flatly, folding his arms over his chest. "Sorry to do this to you, kiddo, but you're in the war for real now." He can't meet her gaze, and guilt tinges his voice.

Hurley doesn't respond for a long while, her gaze pointed downwards and a rather solemn moment overtaking her thoughts. She does, though, draw in a deep breath and offer a small smile towards the man who refuses to look at her. "It all works out," she notes only slightly questioningly. "Somehow, it always works out in the end."

"I used to think that," Harris murmurs, keeping his gaze on the screen. "And then the Alliance came."

Biting at her lower lip, Christine's gaze returns to the viewscreen. "You know," she notes softly, "in my universe, the Bajorans were subjugated by the Cardassians. Their world was occupied and their race thrown into slavery for decades. The Bajorans in my universe rose up, and some in violent ways, but they all rose up together. As one voice. And remained vigilant in their faith until they were delivered from their slavery bounds." She falls silent a moment before adding, "I have friends who are of the most peaceful.. loving.. that could ever even be imagined. Their pain and suffering was not without a reward."

Robert Harris crosses and uncrosses his arms, clenching his jaw for a moment. "They probably weren't like we were before they were conquered."

"I don't know," the young Ensign responds softly. "I can't make judgement calls on history and hypotheses of which I have no idea; especially considering I don't have training in psychology and sociology. But," she considers, eyes lifting upwards, "I have a theory... we're all basically the same people brought under different circumstances. Unfortunately, one small change in circumstance could change our entire outcome; not our potential, as I believe it, but the outcome."

"So, you think I could be the same man as your grandfather, or he could be me if we were in different circumstances?" Harris asks with more than just a touch of disbelief in his voice.

Hurley inhales deeply, and upon exhale responds. "Perhaps. I think the potential is definitely there." She moves towards the angrier Harris, finishing, "Father always said everyone has the potential to be someone great. The question is always how they perceive and value greatness and their will to achieve it."

Robert Harris glances toward her, lifting an eyebrow. "Sounds like a good kid. 'Course, he took that from my side of the family." For the first time, a small grin appears on his face.

Easily, Christine shares in that grin, and a little cheer reaching into her eyes. "He was an incredible man," she recounts with an almost dreamy, slightly sad look. "He used to tell me that everything would work out in the end."

Robert Harris relaeses a sigh, pushing off the edge of the table. "I wonder if he would have said the same thing in this reality," he murmurs.

"I don't know," Christine says honestly. "I'm still trying to place all the difference between people I've seen that are similar to those I know from my universe."

Robert Harris sizes her up for a long moment. "We'll have to get you a uniform."

Hurley turns her gaze towards her psudograndfather. "Uniform? Well, I.. guess.. that would make it official." A small weak smile forms and she drops her arms at her sides. "I assume I'd be a communications officer? What is our stance with the Resistance? They're very loosely formed cells, but.. I think I might be able to make contact with one of the cells."

"We don't have a stance. They're hard to pin down, and I haven't had the resources to go looking for them," Harris replies with a shake of his head. "And, yeah, that'd make it official. I figure your training's as good as ours, and you deserve your due posting as an officer of a Starfleet, if not the Starfleet."

Hurley casts her eyes downwards. "Won't.. the crew be annoyed... with my opinions of this war?"

"I wouldn't try to espouse them too much," Harris offers softly. "But they know that they'll have to answer to me if they do anything untoward to you."

An eyebrow lifts with her gaze. "Crew protection?" she asks, testing the waters.

Robert Harris clears his throat. "Assassination is rare these days, but not unheard of. But, they know that you're under my protection, so you should be safe."

Hurley nods once in understanding, eyes looking to the floor. "I ... have a confession ... to make to you while you're extending this protection," she admits, guilt trailing in her tone.

Robert Harris lifts a brow. "Oh?"

Hurley draws in a deep breath and nods. "I.. I think I saw her. Your granddaughter. It all happened so quickly," she adds, eyes quickly darting to find Harris. "But... I felt like I was looking into a mirror. She was my exact replica - down to every freckle across her nose."

Robert Harris looks like he's been punched in the gut. "Where?"

Hurley's eyes close. She knows that look. She caused that look when she first arrived on the ship. "At the palace," she whispers. "The day of the prison breakout of the Resistance leaders... when I was left behind and caught."

"We'll find her, then," Harris murmurs, straightening up once again. "We will."

Hurley shakes her head. "She's not at the palace," she says quickly. "After I was.. assigned.. to Havaris Kusto's household, I did try to find her. I tried to talk to her when I saw her, but I think she panicked... I mean, I understand why, but.. I think she somehow escaped because I couldn't find her later."

Robert Harris considers that for a long moment. "You said she looks exactly like you? Maybe she replaced you."

Slowly, Christine blinks at Harris, jaw dropping slightly. "It makes sense," she whispers. "I don't think Commander Edwards or Tak would've left me behind intentionally... but.. but Tak or Tara should've known right away, I mean, she couldn't have possibly *acted* like me, could she have?" Her eyes widen and she pales. "Oh god. Grandfather. He'll be.." the comment just drops off.

Robert Harris has left.

Robert Harris has arrived.

GAME: Robert Harris is joining this location.

"Maybe she's good enough not to be noticed? If it were me, I'd have come back for you." Harris rubs the bridge of his nose.

"She was probably scared," Christine says, eyes casting downwards again. "That would explain her actions anyway."

Robert Harris smiles, placing his hand on her shoulder. "We'll get it set right... hopefully sooner than later."

Hurley sighs and turns to look back upwards at Harris. "In that case, I do hope they received my message. Because I have no idea how to get back there, and the Resistance wasn't very.. forthcoming in helping us get home last time we ran into them either."

Robert Harris gestures at the ceiling. "My science officer is one of the most brilliant officers in the Empire. He can figure it out."

"What's his name?" Christine asks, "Out of curiosity, of course."

Robert Harris lifts a brow. "Commander Strell?"

Hurley nods. "Commander Strell," she repeats and draws in a deep breath, offering a small smile. "So far he seems to be similar to mine. Kinda. But, then again, so are you." A small, weak smile forms, but she doesn't finish the rest of it out loud.

. o O Hurley thinks "So did Kusto. Oh, Kusto."

Robert Harris lifts a brow, frowning thoughtfully. "Every reflection will be similar... even in a distorted mirror."

Hurley nods again, this time much smaller, and her eyes cast downwards again. "Like I said. We all have the same potential - we were just brought under different circumstances."

Robert Harris turns for the doors. "Then let's hope our circumstances start to change, eh?" he calls over his shoulder.

"Or we find our potentials through harder circumstances," Christine whispers more to herself than in response. Lifting her gaze, she calls towards the Captain, "After I get my uniform, should I just join Garcia?"

"Sounds like a winner," Harris calls over his shoulder before the doors close on him, leaving her alone.

Hurley finally plops down into a chair at the briefing conference table, hands folding in her lap. "Grandfather, please receive my message."