"Mirror-mare"

[LeftEar JoNs 0]

8.12.06 (2397)

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Mirror-mare”

 

Location: ISS Agincourt, Off duty shift cycle

 

Mrrett Shaow JoNs, of tribe Honor Scar, Clan Shadow Pride, and officer of the Imperial Space Ship Agincourt, found herself traversing a Caitian burial ground. Feathers, beads and indigenous plains flowers decorated the small markers that represented the final resting place of these souls.

 

She wore a plain white, close fitting tunic and black linen trousers, ending just below the knee. She sensed an unnatural chill in the air, odd for the flat plains of Cait.

 

A synthetic leather arm band encircled her upper left arm, emblazoned with her family crest – two crossed swords above the head of an ancient saber cat. The same symbol was branded on the underside of her lower right forearm; when two Caits met, either of the same tribe clan or from a different clan, they would lock arms to ensure that the brands touched one another. This signified a racial unity, a shared code even though the Caitians had loyalties to different tribes and clans. She gripped a steel shield strapped to her left forearm, and a long sword was gripped in her right hand. The metals were black as onyx, glinting evilly in the waning daylight with the JoNs family crest prominently displayed on the shield.

 

“You are not welcome here. You should not be here.”

 

JoNs whirled around at the voice, searching the graveyard for the speaker. Her feline eyes locked onto another Caitian standing nearby among the headstones.

 

Her exact twin stood there with the same golden fur tone, the same features and the exact same clothing. The only differences were the weapons and the design of the crest symbol The weapons of the imposter showed a brilliant silver. A delicate filigree of knot work bordered the head of the cat beast in a diamond shape, replacing the clashing swords of her family symbol.

 

“Who are you?” JoNs demanded once again of the doppelganger, as she had in past encounters. “Explain yourself. This is my ancestral burial ground. I have every right to be here. I am Mrrett Shaow JoNs of Tribe Honor Scar and Clan Shadow Pride. ”

 

The other answered, eerily using the same voice as M’rrett. “I am Mrrett Shaow JoNs, of Tribe Honor Scar. Again, I repeat, it is you who do not belong here. You anger my family guardians.”

 

Dark Shield Mrrett registered the fact that there was no clan designation used, but the thought was fleeting as her temper bristled at the doppelgangers response. “It is you who do not belong imposter. This is the resting place of several generations of Shadow Prides.”

 

Silver Shield Mrrett retorted with, “No. Again I say it is you who do not belong. This is not your time or place. The ancestor guardians will protect this zone from all trespassers; there is no place for your darkness here. You must return through the looking glass to your own time. ”

 

Mrrett had had enough of this and her temper finally flared. Not considering the consequences, she rushed at the doppelganger with a battle cry, sword held high and ready to strike. The silver shield double brought her defensive weapon up in time to deflect the attack and then countered with her own sword. The sword swished in a deadly arc, blocked as well by the dark shield of M’rrett. The two women continued to trade blows for several minutes, the steel of their weapons ringing loudly across the burial ground. JoNs saw and opening and rushed at her double, intent on slicing her deeply.

 

With no warning, the ground exploded in front of her, stopping her charge and causing her to jump backwards. To her horror, skeletal Caitians began clawing their way out of the surrounding graves. They emerged from their eternal slumber, until M’rrett was surrounded by ten of the demons. Their sightless eye sockets glowed a sickly yellow. She turned quickly from right to left, snarling at the undead with a mixture of fear and anger.

 

Silver Mrrett pointed her sword toward Dark Mrrett. “You were warned Caitian rogue. Your kind has no place in the light. You will return to your shadow world.”

 

With a howling snarl that cut to the soul, one of the undead leapt at M’rrett. She had no time to bring her shield up as the claws slashed at her, ripping through her fur and into her skin…she fell…and then there was darkness.

 

Kansas jolted awoke in a sweat and panting, safe in her darkened quarters on the Agincourt. Bolting upright, she called out, “Lights!” She leapt out of the bed, throwing the covers from her. She rushed toward the washroom sink, slapping at the controls. She splashed cold water on her face.

 

The nausea became overwhelming. Bracing her clawed hands on either side of the sink, she dry retched a few times, her back arching up with the effort. Panting, she stared at the water dribbling down the drain of the stainless plasti-aluminum steel sink, concentrating on controlling her breathing and calming her heart rate. Once calm enough, her gaze traveled to the mirror above the sink.

 

The reflection looking back at her was the same as always, yet eerily a match for the dream twin. Rather, it was more a nightmare then a dream. Her senses were going ballistic. There was more to this then she realized; these nocturnal episodes placing her at odds with a counterpart, though sporadic, had plagued her for years. Tonights had been a bit different, leaving her feeling highly disconcerted, and she wanted to know why.

 

The doppelganger had mentioned a looking glass back to her own time, as if Kansas had been trespassing somehow. And the symbolism was not lost on her – light and dark weapons, good and evil. But, why had Kansas possessed the black weapons, the traditional evil looking weapons? Now that was just character assassination.

 

It had been recorded in the fleet archives that years ago the ISS Enterprise, James Kirk commanding, had encountered an alternate universe, inhabited by their exact opposites. These goodly opposites, due to an ion storm that had fried the transporters, had ended up on the alternate ISS ship. Kirk and some of his officers had been replaced by these do gooders, with their weak personalities.

 

Was this what Kansas was encountering in these dreams? Was it a manifestation of an alternate self, a goodly counterpart?

 

Or it could be a load of targ crud. And she needed to go to bed at a decent hour.

 

Besides, let’s say all this could happen - there was no way anyone’s “good counterpart” would last two minutes on the Agincourt, and Kansas was pretty sure she could beat the ever living snot out of an alternate self if it ever came down to it.

 

With a sigh, she shut off the water and walked back toward the sleeping area. The chrono display on her bedside table read 4 AM. In a few hours she’d be on duty, and she just could not bring herself to go back to sleep, so she might as well stay up. The Caitian threw on a steel blue colored sweat suit with the Agincourt security logo on the left chest area and exited her quarters. It was time for some nocturnal prowling; it was amazing what one could find happening on an Imperial ship in the wee hours of the morning.

 

She might even be catching some sleep demons. She had never been one to back down from a fight, either in reality or fantasy.

 

The time would come, yes indeed.

 

Lieutenant M.S. “Kansas” JoN’s

Chief Tactical-Assistant Security Officer

Edited August 12, 2006 by M.S. "Kansas" JoNs