Mirror Memories II

 Episode Name:  Mirror Memories II

   Written By:  Eidolon

         Cast:  Eidolon, Harris, Hurley, Taimol and Taimol Edan.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Eidolon

     Aired On:  Sat Jul 09 22:56:37 2005

     Stardate:  55103.4

Time: Sun Nov 07 16:35:29 2004

Stardate: 54517.3

"Red alert. All hands to battle stations." The klaxons on the Exeter come to life, and the ship's lights take on a red glow -- even in Hurley and Casya's quarters. So much for a peaceful night cycle.

As every evening since she's been 'rescued', Christine's first concerns fall with Casya, and her gaze immediately shoots in the Orions direction as she sits straight up in bed. Chrissy's eyes lift upwards while she quietly and calmly considers the situation.

Casya is already scampering for cover under the bed, peering out from beneath it when she gets situated. "C...Christine? Is... is everything alright?"

Hurley hesitates and slides off her bed with another glance towards Casya's. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Casya. Just stay under there and safe, ok? I'm going to the bridge to see what's going on - I'll call you if I need you to come up there, too, ok?"

Casya nods, covering her eyes with her hands as she prepares to wait out whatever it is that's going on.

Already halfway uniformed, Christine grabs her new uniform jacket and runs towards the door, out into the corridor and is well on her way towards the bridge before she even thinks to call up there.

. o O Hurley thinks "They're probably busy. They won't be able to afford a response to me. I'll just go to the bridge."

The corridors of the ship are deserted as Hurley makes her run for the bridge, footsteps echoing on the metal deckplating. The turbolift is empty as well, but the bridge is bustling with activity as the doors pop open.

"...course, bearing 219 mark 37. They're holding steady at warp eight," the Vulcan at the science console is saying to Harris, who is leaning forward in the command chair with a thoughtful frown on his face.

Hurley pauses once she steps foot on the bridge, eyes darting from station to station as she takes in and assesses the situation at hand. A bit of bustling brings an officer on a collision course with the thoughtful Ensign, who quickly sidesteps to avoid being splattered.

Harris turns to face the door, offering a curt nod to Hurley before he returns his attention to the viewscreen. "We've run afoul of a Klingon fleet movement," he offers softly, waving her down into the command pit next to his chair. "How many ships now?"

"Thirteen," the science officer replies. "They are broadcasting signals consistant with those utilized by the so-called "Right Hand" of Governor Churas."

. o O Hurley thinks "The.. Right Hand? Kusto.. no, Kusto's dead. Not Kusto. Dakin Rann? Ugh, I hope not."

Hurley draws in a quick breath and heads towards the Communications Console without even a second thought, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She pauses for only a moment while the officer there moves to a different station and she slides in at the console herself, already sweeping for anything she can pick up, and hopefully, translate.

GAME: Hurley spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Hurley (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Communications) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

The systems are still not completely familiar to her, and Christine gives the console a quick scowl before readjusting the head-gear and releasing a small sigh. She closes her eyes and tries for something a little easier - let's see if they're actually *chattering* out there. Let's find that, first.

Harris leans to the side in the chair, considering the viewscreen. "Move us closer," he orders the helmsman softly. "Carefully."

Out of the blue, an unencoded transmission comes through on all channels, broadcast rather boldly from the lead Klingon vessel.

"Rebel Terran vessel, surrender peacefully and we will not destroy your vessel. Resist, and you will die to the last man." Taimol's voice carries nothing but pure, unadulterated threat with it.

Hurley casts a glance towards the viewscreen, only momentarily, however, then reconcentrates on the sounds and readings given to her. Her eyes had slid shut until the bold broadcast startles her out of her concentration. The voice simply makes her tremble, eyes widening in a mixture of fear .. and confusion.

"Well, he's direct, isn't he?" Harris mutters, pushing to his feet to pace the deck. "Alter course to parallel that ship. Match their speed and course changes exactly. If we're lucky, we'll show up as a sensor echo." He steps onto the upper level, resting a hand on Hurley's shoulder. "A friend of yours?" he asks softly.

"Taimol Edan," Christine whispers, still trembling slightly. "A dear friend of my where I'm from... he's... different here, though." She doesn't explain how different, the blank, scared stare in her eyes says it all for her. "He won't be easily fooled. He's never easily fooled."

"This is your last chance for leniency, Terrans," Taimol mocks over subspace, his voice chilling even further. "Do not waste your lives in this pitiful sham of a rebellion -- one that you and I both know you have no chance of winning."

Harris' face becomes a grim mask. "He hasn't shown us that he can see us yet. We'll be alright."

"He may not," Christine says softly, drawing in enough of a calming breath before returning to her console again. "Hunters rarely let their prey know what they know."

"You seal your fate." Edan's voice takes on a rather diffident air. "So be it." The communications channel clicks closed.

Harris releases a puff of breath, returning to his chair. "Keep an eye on him."

<CONTEST> Hurley (claiming advantage) contests her Shipboard Systems (Communications) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

"They don't know where we are," Christine says, an obvious tinge of relief in her tone. "I'm hearing their entire fleet chatter, though." Pause and her eyebrows furrow slightly, "at least a dozen."

Harris nods as he settles, eyeing the viewscreen for a moment. "Helm, new heading 47 mark 63, warp six. Communications, keep an open ear."

Hurley draws in another small breath and closes her eyes to listen and concentrate. "10... 11... 12... 13..." She pauses, then lifts her head and glances in her not-so-grandfather's direction. "I think there are 13 ships. 13 callsigns, anyway, that I've picked up on."

The Vulcan at science suddenly lifts a brow. "I am reading six new vessels, closing at high warp speed," he reports. "They are not of Klingon or Cardassian design."

Pushing to his feet once again, Harris raises both of his brows. "On screen."

On the viewscreen, several small Bajoran raiderss close in on the lead Klingon cruiser and strafe across its surface.

Hurley tries as she can to ignore what's going on behind her. Her eyes close again and she takes a few deep, calming breaths, while concentrating on the work before her.

. o O Hurley thinks "What are you doing, Edan? Speak to your crews. Let me hear."

The communications earbud in Hurley's ear crackles to life. "So you show yourselves, Terran dogs?" Taimol's voice is cool and collected even over the sound of explosions behind him.

"Don't you ever shut up?" fires back a voice easily recognized at Michael Edwards'.

Harris turns to his helm officer. "Helm, intercept course on the nearest Klingon vessel. Drop cloak, shields up, weapons hot. We're going to help."

Hurley's eyes shoot open and she spins to look at the viewscreen, jaw dropped. "It's them," she says, as though that should be enough of an explanation. Then, she simply vocally explodes into chatter. "It's them! I can send a message to them! Their ships have a cloaking-type communications technology - it covers the communications to look like subspace noise - which is why Taimol Edan can't figure out how to talk to them. It's the resistance!"

"Do it. If we can coordinate the attack, maybe we can decapitate the Alliance in this sector," Harris orders as the ship comes about, looking smugly satisfied with himself.

Edan and Edwards continue their exchange of words in the meantime. "You're nothing more than an irritant, Edwards. I will take pleasure in watching you die."
"You really like the sound of your voice, don't you?"

On the viewscreen, the Klingons begin to strike back against the raiders, and the comm chatter suddenly picks up regarding the new ship that just appeared on their sensors.

Hurley spins back in her seat to prepare the message. She spent weeks working on the engineering to incorporate the cloaking technology into the Starfleet communicators, hopefully that means she can remember enough to disguise her communications in the same manner. With calculations in her head and a few typed commands at reconfiguring communications protocols, she gets to work.

<CONTEST> Hurley contests her Shipboard Systems (Communications) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

: Resistance, the Starfleet vessel USS Exeter is here to assist. We're moving in and are prepared to coordinate with your efforts. Mister Edwards, it's good to hear your voice again. : Hurley's message is encrypted to the Resistance's protocols and sent to the ship from which she hears Edwards' voice. Nervously, while waiting for a response, she turns and looks back at the viewscreen, biting at her lower lip and idly tapping her fingers on the console in front of her.

The Exeter slams into the outer Klingon perimeter, spewing phaser and photon torpedo fire at her target -- a Klingon bird of prey which takes the fire, wobbles under the assault, and then explodes into debris.

A grunt of grim satisfaction escapes from Harris' lips as the ship rocks under return fire from the Klingons. "Good job, tactical. Helm, intercept contact at 314 mark 6. Fire as soon as we have a good targeting solution."

Edwards' response, meantime, is less than believing. "Starfleet? There hasn't been a Starfleet for almost a century, but we welcome the assist. Target the big mother -- it's got Intendant Taimol aboard, and if we kill him, it'll hurt the Alliance -bad-."

Hurley is about to relay the message, but it's caught in her throat. A woeful glance falls on the satisfied Captain in the Big Seat and tears brim in her eyes, which flicker to watch the destruction of the Klingon vessel. She can't help but cringe at the sight, but her gaze turns to watch the mother ship - Edan's ship, breath simply caught in her throat.

. o O Hurley thinks "He's not my friend. He's not the Taimol Edan I know. I know this, but why.. why is it so hard? He's not *my* Edan."

One of the Alliance ships on the screen is hit by a burst of fire, losing a nacelle and slamming into the surface of Edan's ship in a flash of flame. The Alliance comm chatter suddenly takes on a more desperate tone as the Klingons attempt to mount a defense to drive the attacking vessels off. "Protect the Intendant!" is a common cry.

The Alliance comms, on the other hand, are a mix of jubilant and mournful all at once. "Who was that? Who went down?" "Another hit like that, and he's done!"

The Exeter rocks again as two Klingons bring their weapons to bear. "Well, Ensign?" Harris asks as the latest Klingon target flashes into oblivion. "What do they say?"

Hurley watches the viewscreen in an ever sorrowful confusion. "The mother ship," she manages to reply just barely above a hoarse whisper. "He says to concentrate on Taimol Edan's ship. It'll.. hurt.. the alliance.." A tear trace down her cheek and she simply slumps in her seat. There's no other choice.

. o O Hurley thinks "There has to be a way to talk to him... to negotiate with him. There /has/ to be a way to convince him that taking over the universe is not his place here. But, I heard what he said about the Prophets - I know how he feels about humans. I saw the look in his eyes when I challenged his thoughts. But... killing him? Making him a martyr? What will that accomplish? But... he'll not stop until all of these ships here are gone. Destroyed. ... Grandfather, where are you?"

. o O Hurley thinks "Why hasn't anyone from 419 responded to my message?"

Harris nods as he turns back to the helm. "You heard her. Target their warp core -- it'll be the fastest way to take them out," he orders, settling into the command chair as he watches the unfolding fight.

The ship takes a hard hit, and sparks erupt from the ceiling. "Starfleet? Are you coming?" Edwards demands over the comms before Edan butts in, apparently unintendedly. "Get my son to the escape pods, now!"

"He has a child," Christine says, eyes closing tightly and thus shielding more tears behind her eyelids. "He's attempting to evacuate his child." She does manage to get out a shakey response to the Resistance, encoded to look like subspace noise, : Targetting warp core of Taimol's vessel. Starfleet is engaging. :

Phaser and torpedo fire rains down on the drive section of Taimol's vessel, when another gout of flame erupts from the large Klingon ship and it spins out of control.

"Warp core breach is imminent. Recommend retreat to minimum safe distance," Commander Strell offers over the din of weapons fire. "Shields are at fifty-three percent."

"Do it. Fire at will, tactical, let's pop as many of these Klinks as we can on the way out," Harris orders, gripping the arms of his chairs as the ship shakes again and again. "Go to warp speed as soon as we're clear."

: Warp breach on mother ship is imminent. Recommend withdrawing to a safe distance. : Hurley relays to the Resistance, then turns to watch the viewscreen in silent mourning.

. o O Hurley thinks "I'm sorry, Edan. I do hope and pray the Prophets will guide you through the next part of your journey."

The Terran ships on the screen zoom away from the ship carrying Edan, which slowly continues to spin as flames erupt from the hull. Two escape pods blast away from the hull of the Klingon behemoth, and then it explodes in a spectactular fashion.

Harris nods as he watches the explosion, grinning for just a moment. "Got him!"

"Escape pods," Christine murmurs, attempting to shield her eyes from the explosion, but still see what's going on out there. "Do we need to sweep for escape pods?"

Harris doesn't hear, apparently. "Damage report," he orders before he moves to the helm/navigation console to peer at the readouts displayed there.

Hurley closes her eyes and exhales. No, she has to try again. "Do we need to sweep for escape pods? If the Resistance finds anything, they'll torture any survivors.." This is a great concern to her, and as such, she presses the issue.

Harris glances over his shoulder at her, straightening up. "Those people are war criminals," he replies softly, frowning.

. o O Harris feels no great sympathy for the people out there in those pods. They destroyed his civilization, after all.

"They are *living, sentient beings*," Christine reminds the older man without hesitation. "They deserve the exact treatment, regardless of crimes, that we would hope for ourselves. We may not like what they've done, or how they've done it, but returning it in kind will get us nowhere and makes us no better."

"If it were me out there, I'd hope that I died quickly rather than fall into their hands," Harris fires back, still frowning. "They've destroyed everything that we were."

Hurley eyeshifts and stands from her station. "And what are we doing? Destroying everything that they are. We have a chance *right now* to make a difference," she points at the viewscreen, "by showing what *humane* and *humanity* are. We have a chance *right now* to change the tide of this conflict, and hopefully resolve it eventually into a peaceful coexistance rather than senseless genocide until one side is *dead*. We have that chance *now*."

Harris glowers back for a long moment before returning his gaze to the helmsman. "Sweep for escape pods. Beam survivors to sickbay," he orders, rather begrudgingly.

The glower sends chills down Christine's spine, and a visible shudder, but she doesn't look away. There should be absolutely no doubt that the same spark that drives their beloved captain drives the woman facing him now, which is why she doesn't look smug. She knew he felt the same way or he wouldn't have listened; and it's evident as she exhales and sinks back into her seat.

. o O Hurley thinks "Baby steps. You start with baby steps, Christine. You may not be able to get home, but by god, you can remain true to who you are one way or another."

Harris returns to his chair in silence, watching the viewscreen.

After a time, the Vulcan looks up. "We have recovered all escape pods. We have two survivors -- one Bajoran male and one Bajoran-Klingon hybrid."

Hurley's attention turns towards Strell, breath caught again. "His child," she mouths, but doesn't quite get enough sound to say it.

. o O Hurley thinks "A Bajoran male... maybe he survived? Now I can convince him. Maybe.. maybe I can draw out the Edan that I know."

The Vulcan nods in agreement. "The Bajoran-Klingon appears to be three years of age," he replies.

Harris releases a sigh. "Helm, get us out of here. Ensign Hurley, if you so desire -- you're dismissed."

Harris' sigh is released at the same time that Hurley draws in a deep breath. "I'll.. check on Casya," she says softly and stands from her seat. Turning to Garcia, she offers a small smile and motions to the console, "I've left all the configurations for the cloaking encryption technology the resistance uses. You should be able to easily contact them and coordinate any efforts that need to be coordinated - exchange of supplies, whatever the Captain wants." She casts a glance to Harris and back to Garcia again. "Seeing you guys will lift their morale a lot, I would think."

Garcia offers a thin smile. "You're a lot like the captain, you know," he murmurs. "At least, how he used to be."

Hurley exchanges a brief, sad glance at Garcia, then offers another smile. "You'd be surprised how often I've heard that," she notes.

. o O Hurley thinks "He is, afterall, my grandfather. Kind of."

Garcia nods in agreement, turning to his console. "Take it easy, hermana," he offers softly.

Hurley pats Garcia on the shoulder and heads to greet her kind of grandfather before leaving the bridge. She gives him a nudge with her shoulder, offers that 'Everything works out in the end' smile again and a quick hug before turning to depart for the turbolift. If one actually looks for it, the bounce has returned to her step, though it's very light and subtle now.

Time: Mon Nov 08 22:49:48 2004

Stardate: 54520.3

With one of Christine's hands firmly holding one of Casya's green hand, the sheer-dress clad pair approach sickbay doors. Christine hesitates before tripping the door's sensor and notices the shaking through her entire being. Frozen for a moment, she gives the Orion's hand a gentle squeeze and glances over her shoulder at her friend, seeking the support she'll need to handle this.

Casya skitters along timidly behind Christine, clearly frightened. "He'll -kill- us!" she whispers.

"Nonsense," Christine says soothingly in an obvious attempt to quell her nerves as much as Casya's. "He doesn't have any weapons, and one cry through this," she fumbles under one of the sheer layers to locate the communicator attached to the top of her corset, and tries to look calm. "I want you here to help me, Casya. We have to convince Edan to stop this foolishness and try to work with the humans to find some sort of peaceful coexistance before someone succeeds in the genocidal plans. I know you can be strong, my friend. I *know* you have it in you. Please, chin up. Help me with this."

A deep shuddering breath passes through the Orion, and she nods after a long moment -- although there's still fear in her eyes.

Hurley whispers to the Orion, "And try not to look scared. He'll play on that." She, herself, closes her eyes, draws in a deep breath and very slowly releases it while focusing her own emotions. "Right. Here we go," she comments, flashing her hand over the sensor plate and stepping through the sickbay doors with Casya gently guided behind her. Strangely, she's still acting protective of the Orion woman, despite being in an entirely safe area.

The sickbay is quiet, and dimly lit. Near the end, a body rests under a blanket as the monitors chirp to indicate that he's still alive.

It's like a scene out of a horror movie. The two women hesitantly move through the dimly-lit area, towards the dangerous villan, both holding their breaths and making each step light and nearly silent. Finally, when the music should reach the tension climax, Christine moves to stand next to the head of the resting body and forces herself to breathe, after a small gasp escapes. She expected to see him, but it's certainly not the same as actually *seeing* him.

The right half of Taimol's face is covered with a sterile bandage, and the left has been turned an angry red by apparent burns. He's been removed from his armor and his weapons in favor of a medical gown, but even under sedation he's rather large... and unlike his counterpart, not gentle in the least.

Second-thoughts race through Christine's mind at seeing the Phantom of the Starfleet Opera laying before her. A shudder runs along her entire body and she glances back towards Casya, whispering, "You're right. He'll kill us. Maybe.. maybe we should wait until later."

Casya doesn't need another word of encouragement. Without further ado, she slips her hand free from Christine's and bolts from the sickbay.

Edan, on the other hand, stirs slightly, releasing a soft groan.

Hurley turns to follow Casya's example, but the groan tugs her heartstrings back towards the hospital bed. After a moment of silently repreparing herself, she turns back towards the Bajoran and draws in a sharp, almost pained breath. "I can get you some water," she offers barely above a whisper. "Or a doctor to tend to your pain?"

"Water?" Taimol murmurs, his eyes flicking here and there until he finally finds who it is that's speaking to him. Of course, he's got that glazed look of someone that's on painkillers in his eyes.

Caught for a moment in the gaze from the flickering eyes, Christine freezes again, jaw slacked as she was about to respond. "Water," she finally mouths, regaining her senses slowly. "Water," she says out loud and moves to a nearby table holding a pitcher of water and glass. She returns to the bed, holding the glass and looking down towards the Bajoran. This is a plan that was obviously not thought through very well.

Edan takes the glass from her hand, draining it quickly. "Thank you," he murmurs, reclining back against his pillow.

"You look terrible," Christine says honestly, hand reaching to reclaim the glass as he reclines again.

"I -feel- terrible," Edan murmurs, releasing a soft sigh.

Hurley is silent a moment, then dips her head down slightly. "But, you're alive. And, for a reason." She considers her next step and opts to lean against the side of the bed, her arm draping gently over her lap. "I told you I was not a spy in the palace, and that I ended up there accidently. That is entirely true. If ... if you're up to a story, I'd like to tell you the rest, and ask for your help. I feel that you helped me in the palace; you spared my life and kept me from a life of slavery in the dilithium mines - you may have had alterior motives in mind, however, that point is moot. I was helped, and I *know* you have the potential to be a great man, Edan. And I'm not talking about power."

Recognition finally dawns in the Bajoran's eye, and he closes it. "I suppose you'll kill me when the interrogation is over."

"No, actually," Christine says softly. "I'm not here to interrogate you, and I'm certainly not here to kill you." She pauses and looks down at her dress, drawing in a strengthening breath. "My name is Christine Anika Hurley... Ensign... Christine Anika Hurley. I'm a communications officer in Starfleet, of the United Federation of Planets - from an alternate reality. I did accidently end up in the palace - kinda."

Taimol doesn't say anything, instead turning his face to the wall.

Hurley casts her eyes downwards. "I was trapped in this universe, and.. still am... Nobody's responded to my call - I finally had a chance to try to contact my family, and.. nobody's responded." Her voice drops to a whisper, "I may be trapped here forever."

"Ironic, is it not, that a universe that your people created would turn out to be your final resting place?" Edan asks bitterly.

"I don't want this universe to be my final resting place," she notes softly, eyes still cast downwards. "At least, not like it is." She falls silent and slowly takes in a deep breath. "Edan, I asked that your escape pod be rescued and you be shown mercy - given medical treatment. I argued my case to have you, and your son, spared, because it's the Right Thing To Do. Because there *has* to be a way to start a movement to end this genocidal vendetta against the Bajoran, Klingon and Cardassian Alliance and the Human Resistance. Because I *know* you have it in you to be a good, strong, caring man. And because I can't do this on my own."

"You know -nothing- about me," Taimol replies flatly, keeping his face toward the wall.

"I know you love your son," Christine says softly. "And I know you wouldn't want him to grow up in a universe where his life could be coldly extinguished for no other reason than because of an on-going, tired war over control of the universe. His generation could be the first in... centuries... to not live in fear of slavery or retaliatory strikes. *Without genocide*."

"My son." Edan's shoulders shudder softly -- out of fear or something else, it's impossible to say. "Oh, Prophets. My son."

Prophets? Christine looks up and sharply turns her gaze towards Edan. She can't speak, in shock at the *almost* prayer, and a small smile forms on her lips. It's possible. It's within reach. "His pod was recovered as well. But, at this point, that's all I know. I haven't seen him yet."

Taimol Edan shakes his head. "You do not understand, do you? They'll kill him to hurt Churas. It's their way."

"I've asked that they don't," Christine says. "Just like I asked that you, a man who they see as responsible for the deaths and tortures of many of their friends and families, be shown mercy. It's called being 'humane'."

"Humane." A wry laugh escapes from Edan's lips. "Yes, humans are certainly kind and compassionate creatures. Just ask the Andorians."

"Yes, humane," Christine responds with a sigh and looks away again. "If you'd like me to leave you to rest, I will."

Taimol Edan turns so he can fix his one-eyed gaze on her. "You truly don't understand what's going on here, do you?"

Hurley inclines her head while thinking, but still looking away. "No, I probably don't. But, that won't stop me from doing everything I can to fulfill my duties, which include protecting and preserving life."

"Perhaps, then, you should start with a lesson in Imperial history," Edan notes with more than a hint of disdain, turning his gaze toward the wall once again. "You'll find it refreshing, I'm sure."

"I know enough of it to know that I likely won't last long here," Christine says honestly. "I don't even belong here," she notes more to herself than the selfish Bajoran at her side, "but I feel.. somewhat.. responsible.. for forcing a shift in this conflict. You know? Like, I *know* it can be better - I *know* life can be so much better, but it's so difficult to convince others to move on when they're so caught up in history and vengeance."

Taimol Edan is silent for a long moment. "Maybe life is better on your side, but you forget that it was people from your side who created this situation."

Hurley bites at her lower lip. "Accidently. Mistakes were made, but the people from my side only offered suggestions - they couldn't help how those suggestions were carried out." Finally, she looks back towards the Bajoran. "And regrets. There were many regreats, and the development of our Prime Directive."

"Regrets must be a wonderful luxury to have," Taimol replies with pure acid in his voice.

Her eyes close and Christine releases another sigh. "No, they're not. Edan, it's not a perfect world where I come from either. But, at least in my universe, you and I can talk about anything, without such a venemous tone."

"You and he, not you and I," Edan corrects softly. "There -is- a difference."

Sadly, Christine nods. "So I've come to realize," she admits at a whisper. Her voice picks up again and she looks towards Taimol with a renewed sense of purpose. "We can't change what's happened in history," she notes rather matter-of-factly, "but, we can control what we learn and how we proceed. We're at an important pass, Edan. We have an opportunity to change and alter the course of your people, and mine.." as she says it, she nearly chokes on her own words and her eyebrows furrow in the confusion of what she just said.

. o O Hurley thinks "Mine? But... this .. this isn't home. Not *my* home. These aren't ... my... people. Am I.. resigned.. to this place now?"

Edan just falls silent, tugging the blanket up over his shoulder. The conversation is over, apparently.

Hurley looks down at the injured Bajoran and reaches a hand towards the blanket, but with hesitation, the hand simply hovers over the fabric before she pushes herself away from the bed and smooths the blanket near his legs and evens it around his shoulders. "Have them call for me if you want to talk more, Edan. I believe the Prophets will guide you, if only you'll listen."

Time: Wed Nov 17 21:30:01 2004

Stardate: 54541.8

Taimol paces the Constitution-class cruiser's arboretum deck like a caged tiger, a taciturn Starfleet security officer standing watch near the door. Bandages still cover a large portion of his body, but he's apparently well enough to be allowed release from the sickbay.

Garcia was right. It's good to have buddies in Communications - they can oftentimes find out little things that you would otherwise not even have a hope of finding on your own. Christine pauses near the door to offer the security officer there a bright smile - something that seems to come to her easier and easier each day, and holds up a leather-bound book in greeting. She then diverts her attention to the zoo exhibit with only a fleeting bit of caution before she approaches him, her infectious smile ready to contaminate the Bajoran.

The security officer acknowledges Hurley's passage with a cursory glance and little more than a grunt.

Taimol, on the other hand, looks like he's ready to spit nails. He's muttering something in Bajoran as she approaches, too low to be heard except with an undertone of frustration.

"Edan?" Christine tries softly, still smiling and balancing the book in both hands behind her back. "You're feeling better, I hope? Go'laH is doing well, I just came back from seeing him; Casya's been tending to and doting on him constantly." Her smile brightens just slightly, pride for her green friend quite evident in her tone and the shine in her eyes.

As regally as one can manage in a hospital gown, Edan straightens up and turns his one unbandaged eye to face Christine. "That is propitious," he replies, a slight tinge of worry leaving his eye. "Very propitious indeed."

A pillar of bright hope, Christine simply shines in response to the almost-compliment from the angered Bajoran in front of her. "Well, I'm always happy to bring good news, and jump at the chance every time I get." Hands still behind her, she rolls forward onto the balls of her feet, then rocks back onto her heels. "And, I do hope you're feeling better? You're at least moving - that's definitely improvement."

"I am a prisoner, reduced to wearing an article of clothing which has the disturbing tendency to expose my posterior to the world. I can only see from one eye, and I am being tended by butchers from the Imperial Starfleet." Disdain takes form on Edan's features, and he returns his attention to the windows so he can watch the stars slip by. "It might be said that I am feeling quite well, save for the fact that it would be a falsehood."

Hurley pauses for only a beat. "You are alive," she reminds, still smiling. "You're wearing clothing making your body easily accessible for medical attention," she continues, eyes drawn towards the back of the gown as he complained, then -VERY- quickly to the windows to watch the stars as well. "Sometimes you see better after you've lost an eye, Edan, ironic as it is. Starfleet doctors are bound to protect life, and have protected and continue to protect your life despite conflicting pasts."

Taimol snorts, folding his hands behind his back. "And what am I going to see? The inside of a holding cell? A cage for the rest of my days?"

"I don't know, Edan," Christine merely responds with a shrug. "That's up to you. Are you going to give them a reason to trust you? Are you going to help bring an end to this war, one that will benefit everyone? Are you still intending to wipe out all humans, or confine them to slavery until they are bred out of existance? Your future is for you to decide, and none of us can make that decision for you."

Taimol turns his gaze toward her. "I have never wanted to wipe out all the humans," he replies softly. "Merely the ones that oppose me."

"Or oppose slavery," Christine says, her eyes leveling on him as well. "Edan, humans will always have a deep-seeded longing for freedom. If you can accept this; and believe that humans and Bajorans, Klingons, Cardassians, and all denizens of this .. universe .. can live equally and peacefully, *then* we can get somewhere." She forgets about the object behind her back, her focus now completely on the task at hand.

"Do they live equally in yours?" Edan asks diffidently, returning his eyes to the window.

"Politics... in my universe... are strange," Christine admits, eyes glancing to the deckplate. "We don't fall into two categories - Alliance and Resistance. We have many different governments, however, Bajorans and humans /within/ the Federation are treated equally. Bajorans have their own government, as do the Cardassians and Klingons. We have agreements with each government, and we believe that each species has a sacred right to life."

"But beyond your borders, it is not the same way?" Taimol presses, still keeping his gaze affixed on the window.

Hurley cants her head to the side. "Beyond our borders? What do you mean? War and conflict based on race and heritage? There are definitely other governments that deal with those conflicts continually, yes."

Taimol turns his gaze to her. "Then your universe is not as wonderful as you would make it out to be," he charges, his eye narrowing. "In fact, in places, it is no better than ours. And yet, you have the gall to lecture to -us- about morality. You presume to know everything that there is to know about the dynamics of the situation you are confronted with." He gestures upward angrily. "You say that Starfleet doctors are bound to protect life. Perhaps in your reality, they are, but here... they perfected implements of torture. A trip to the infirmary could result in the end of your life, if the doctor didn't care for you. It was twisted minds in Starfleet's medical branch that invented the Agony Booth. That invented agonizers. I trust that you'll find the doctor aboard this vessel is quite a skilled torturer, and the fact that I have not been mistreated thus far is more than likely a record for these..." he pauses, searching for the right word before his eye lights and he finds it. "-Barbarians-."

Taken aback only slightly, Christine takes the charge quite easily. "I can't help what's happened in the past here," she admits with a dip of her head. "And, you're right, I shouldn't simply project my values on a universe put through much more turmoil than that which I've been introduced thus far in my life. However, I feel an insatiable need to speak up with what values I have now. I feel it /my obligation to myself/ to live by *my* value expectations and encourage others towards a more peaceful path. I'm only one voice, though, but even one voice can be heard if it learns when to speak and how forcefully."

"You face an impossible battle," Edan replies softly, returning his gaze to the viewport.

"Probably," Christine agrees with a small nod. "And I'll likely die trying, but.. at least I tried, and at least I will have been true to myself up until the end." Pausing, she again turns her smile towards Taimol, "for better or worse, at least I'll be me."

Taimol shakes his head. "Is everyone in your universe as..." he pauses, searching for the word again, "...annoyingly optimistic?" There seems to be just a touch of wry amusement in his voice.

Hurley grins to herself. "I like to think so," she says with a wink.

"How horrible," Edan replies.

Turning her smile towards Taimol, Christine says, "You know, my father always used to tell me that everything always works out in the end - no matter how bleak and dismal the world looks at any one given moment, it will *always* work itself out." She looks back towards the stars, finally bringing the object behind her back in front of her - a book that she now rests against the fronts of her uniformed thighs. "The universe has an uncanny way of carefully unfolding itself and correcting everything as it goes."

Taimol glances at the book, then attempts to meet her gaze with a questioning look.

The look is caught out of the corner of her eye and she turns to face Taimol, then glances down to the book with a raised eyebrow. "Oh!" she exclaims, the smile quickly returning to her features. "Right! The book! Well," a sad tinge shows in her smile, but her tone continues in its annoyingly optimistic and cheerful manner, "Kusto liked me to tell him stories - tales and fables I've known since I was a child - to relax him. I was preparing a book of these tales for him, as a gift, but.." she doesn't continue along that line, eyes quickly casting back to the stars. "I thought you might like it. Go'laH seems to like the stories, at least some of them... I lost the original that night at the palace, but I've spent some time rewriting this one out.."

Taimol stands mute for a long moment, unclasping and reclasping his hands before returning his gaze to the stars. "Give it to my son," he replies softly. "He will get much more use out of it than I."

"I can give it to your son," Christine says softly, "but I think he would enjoy hearing the stories from you, Edan. If you have difficulties with the language, I would be more than happy to help you with it. You're very intelligent, I imagine you would learn quickly."

"I cannot read in Imperial Standard," Edan offers softly after a few moments.

Hurley is quiet for only a moment, just long enough for her to think on that fact. Finally, she asks, "Would you like to learn? For Kusto's benefit, I did write at least one of the fables in Bajoran.."

Taimol folds his arms over his chest. "It will be something to do while I am a prisoner."

"Good!" Christine says, bright smile returning to her eyes. "It's settled then. Language lessons it is." She hesitates, then grins towards the Bajoran. "You know, I heard once that optimism is infectious."

Taimol looks less than convinced. "Somehow, I doubt that is the truth."

Hurley nods, trying to wipe the grin from her face. "Well, for your sake, let's hope so. It'd be frightening to see you smile with some sort of happy contagion."

"I have very few reasons to smile," Edan counters.

It's not like Hurley has that many more reasons to smile, but she does continue on. "One reason to smile is enough, usually, but.. I won't force the issue."

Taimol nods, apparently agreeing as he returns his attention to the stars.

Hurley's gaze turns to the stars as well and a sigh manages to escape her lips as the smile diminishes. "You know, I can't tell you what I'd give just to talk to my family and friends. Just to hear their voices again."

Taimol nods in agreement. "I would love nothing more than to hear Churas' voice at this moment."

"It's hard, you know?" Christine says, confiding in the man next to her. "I mean, I *hear* my friends' voices, my grandfather's voice, but.. they're not the same. They're never the same."

"They cannot be the same," Edan points out. "They are different people."

"I know," Christine says with a nod. "Which makes it all the harder. I long to talk to them, and I can hear them, but it's not them." She turns her gaze back towards the Bajoran, her soft smile reeturning. "Everything works out in the end."

Taimol lifts both of his brows. "Not always for good."

Hurley inclines her head. "How am I to determine what's good and not good? What may be bad for me may be an exceptional opportunity for someone else."

"That is not for us to decide. It is for fate," Edan offers softly.

Just as Christine is about to reflect on the comment, she blinks at the stars, then turns and stares lack-jawed at Taimol.

. o O Hurley thinks "He would've said that... That's exactly what my Edan would have said..."

Taimol stares back for a moment. "What?"

Hurley draws in a breath to respond, but all that happens is that her jaw closes and gaze returns back to the stars after a small shake of her head. A smile slowly forms and she responds, barely above a whisper, "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Taimol frowns, a dubious expression sliding onto his face as he turns his attention back to the window. "Very well, then."

"Edan," Christine asks after a moment of silence, "why have you rejected the Prophets?"

"I reject any beings that would keep us from ascending to our proper position in the galaxy," Edan replies. "We were almost victims of the Alliance, rather than their allies, because of those who worshipped the Prophets."

Hurley turns towards Edan, leaning againt the wall, shoulder under the transparent metal that shows the stars. "Can you tell me how?"

Taimol' lips twist into a smirk. "The Cardassians came to 'restore order' on Bajor. As they began to land, the Vedeks and Prylars advised us not to fight, that the Prophets would protect us." He shakes his head. "The people rejected them en masse, and rose up against the Cardassians as they landed troops, pushing them right off the planet. It was a humiliating defeat for the Cardassians, but the Klingons saw in us a kindred spirit and opened a dialogue with our leaders." Another pause, and then his smirk vanishes. "Had we not resisted, the Alliance would have raped our world for resources and enslaved our people."

"...Like how the humans have been enslaved," Christine says softly, head turning to look back out at the stars.

"The difference is that the Empire was the oppressor," Edan replies, his impassive face snapping back on. "And the oppressed rose up against them. The Klingons and Cardassians resisted as Imperial forces pushed into their territory, but there was no way they could stand against the might of the Empire... and then, something changed. The Empire pulled back to pre-war borders. They offered reparations. Their leader... Spark... Spork... Spack... offered a negotiated peace. The Klingons and the Cardassians banded together and leapt at the opportunity to conquer the conquerors. You know how that ended."

Hurley's gaze remains locked on the stars. "Spock," she says softly and simply. In silence, she contemplates the stars and the Bajoran's history lesson.

. o O Hurley thinks "They had a chance at peace, and in paranoia, threw it away to oppress their once oppressors. Now, children are paying the price for the sins of people they likely don't even know once existed. How... can I compete against that? The universe /tried/ to work itself out, didn't it? Wasn't the chance at peace simply tossed aside?"

Taimol nods affirmatively. "The war ground on for almost twenty years. The Empire called for peace again and again, but their cries fell on deaf ears. Finally, after the Battle of Wolf 359, Starfleet surrendered. Alliance troops landed on Earth, and most of the Imperial leaders were captured, put on trial, and executed for their crimes. The Empire was finished." He pauses, frowning as he looks behind him at the Starfleet security guard. "Or so it was believed."

"Their cries for peace fell on deaf ears," Christine whispers, still watching the stars. The beacon of hope flickers and begins to fade within the young woman, sorrow building for all those who, like her, tried to correct the past and failed quite spectacularly.

"The Alliance didn't understand like I do, Christine. They still don't." Edan lowers his voice. "They see the Resistance as an isolated movement. But... look how far we are from Bajor here. The Resistance started there, and in less than ten years has already spread to the Beta Quadrant. The Alliance will be overthrown in little more than a generation."

Hurley simply sighs. "It doesn't have to be *overthrown*," she says, a hint of sadness in her tone. "Edan, you may very well be one of the few people who can see this. You may very well be one of the few people who can *possibly* comprehend and learn from the past. Edan, this is going to be a sick... monsterous cycle. You. Can. End. It. You can help end it before it spirals back to the beginning again."

Taimol stares back. "The Alliance will see that every human and Vulcan is exterminated," he fires back. "They -must- be overthrown -- which is to say defeated, not enslaved."

Confused, Christine looks at Taimol. "You.. oppose.. your own Alliance?"

"They are the means to an end," Edan replies with a wave of his hand. "I do not oppose them; I oppose their methods. I had thought that I could change things by positioning myself to become Regent at some point in the future." He pointedly does not meet her gaze as he adds, "The positioning has... forced me to take some actions that I regret."

"What actions?" she asks without skipping a beat.

Taimol shakes his head, remaining silent.

<CONTEST> Hurley contests her Intellect (Perception) skill vs Taimol's Presence (Willpower) skill and Fails!

"You agree that their methods are wrong," Christine says, now turning to look directly at her new friend. "You agree that this cycle is dangerous.. unforgiveable." She tries to find Taimol's gaze, "Edan, what actions?"

Taimol folds his arms over his chest. "Nothing that requires discussion."

"You regret it, though," Christine reminds, bringing the book against her chest with her arms wrapped protectively around it. "Now is the time to move past the regret, right?"

"I do not believe so," Edan replies softly. "I do not yet have enough power."

Hurley asks, "What would you do with the power once you get it? How will you correct your past actions then?"

Taimol releases a gusty sigh. "There are some things which cannot be excused or corrected."

"Edan," Christine tries again, "what would you do with the power once you get it?"

"I would endeavour to make things right," Edan replies softly.

Hurley cants her head to the side, "And how would you keep the humans and vulcans from reacting exactly as the Klingons and Cardassians acted?"

Taimol just shakes his head. "Must I have everything planned out right at this very moment? I am just one man, Christine."

"No, Edan," Christine says softly. "But, since you don't have everything planned out yet, do note your opportunity here." She glances over her shoulder at the security officer not too far away. "You may find more ideas surrounding you than you realize."

Taimol snorts. "They are still the enemy at this moment," he replies softly.

Hurley clears her throat and offers a small smile. "Technically... I would be too, wouldn't I?"

Taimol merely lifts an eyebrow in response, waiting for her to answer her own question.

Naturally, Christine doesn't answer her own question, instead, she patiently watches Taimol in silence.

"You are the enemy," Edan finally offers, turning his gaze away. "However, you at least make sense."

. o O Hurley has a wave of disappointment wash through her.

Turning to look back at the stars, Christine ponders the response while actively and creatively avoiding Edan's gaze. "I do not consider you my enemy," she says, barely above a whisper. "I never have."

Taimol points out, very quietly, "You are far more trusting than I am."

"I am," Christine admits, still looking away. "I've known people who thought that would eventually be my downfall."

"Perhaps, in time, I can learn to trust you," Edan offers, although his voice doesn't hold out much hope.

A small smile touches her lips, but her attention remains directed towards the stars. "Only you will be able to decide that," she says with a small, decisive nod. "In the meantime," she turns from the window, book in her arms that she again holds upwards slightly, "I have promised you lessons. And, I'm also making myself available for *anything* you might need, well, that I can do, of course. I'm not really.. an orthodox.. member of this crew."

Taimol smirks, turning for the doors. "I will have to take you up on that later," he calls. "For now, I tire of the draftiness of this gown -- I'm going to go request a pair of pants."

"Pants are good," Christine says with a nod, eyes very quickly darting upwards to avoid the 'drafty gown view'.

Taimol nods in agreement, heading out into the hallway. The security guard follows, and then both are gone, leaving Christine alone.

With the crowd gone, Christine is left to let her beacon of hope extinguish. She no longer has to worry about keeping everyone else's spirits up, and thusly, doesn't expend the energy to keep her own up. She turns and looks back towards the stars, tears tracing down one of her cheeks and whispers to the window, "Are you wishing on my star tonight, Grandfather? I need strength."

The stars keep their own counsel, leaving Christine with her own thoughts.