TITLE: To See A Fine Lady, 8-15/15 AUTHOR: Kristin Johnson SERIES: MU/Next Generation CODES: Intendant/Picard, Picard/MU Garak, Picard/MU Bashir, MU Bashir/MU Garak RATING: NC17 Summary: The Intendant intends to teach proper Picard a lesson. But can Jean-Luc's famous charm soothe the Intendant? NOTES: This falls after "Crossover" but before "Through the Looking Glass" in MU timeline. In Next Gen, not sure, probably after "Generations." Everything except for original stuff like the Ellendi belongs to Viacom. If I wanted to try to make money off these characters, I'd make action figures. Special Thanks: To Saklani, for daring me to try this. * * * EIGHT: Dinner Party Nerys was loving this. All day, her Terran had been so attentive. He hadn't been particularly amorous, but he'd fetched her a PADD, massaged her feet, read to her from the latest station reports (nothing too secret), helped her do up her crushed-rose gown this evening... She knew little about him, except one or two things he'd told her when asked. He came from a country called France on Terra. When he poured her more wine last night, he remarked on the excellence of the vintage. His family, apparently, made wine in his universe. He spoke more of his mother language-Frenschk-and when she asked him to translate, he responded by teaching her some of it. "Je suis l'Intendant." She repeated it slowly. "Je suize l'eh Intendant." "Not bad. But the 's' is often silent. Je suis l'Intendant." "Je suis L'Intendant. I am the Intendant?" "Oui. C'est vrai." She beamed at what must be words of praise. "Oui?" "Ah oui, ma belle Intendant." "Oh, I like the sound of that. Ma belle Intendant." "I thought you might. 'Oui' is a word you can use often, like its opposite, 'Non.'" "Non, Garak," she laughed. "Garak est un capitan." "Garak est un snake." "Serpente." "Serpente." Nerys kissed him lightly. "Oh, I never knew this could be fun. Now, you try Bajoran." "I hope I am as apt a pupil as you," he said. "Your Bajoran is quite good," she said, when he repeated the words "I am yours" in the standard Bajoran tongue. "I am a student of languages." He was an unusual man. She hesitated to take him to Garak's tonight, but as she fastened the necklace at his throat, she was confident Garak would not bother with him. She was just concerned that the brash and savage Captain Bashir might...no, Jean- Luc could handle himself. And anyway, she, Garak, and Ben had long suspected that Bashir's hotheaded behavior concealed a more deliberate, cunning mind. She mentally dismissed the Terran female. Rather attractive, worth a romp in the bedroom and maybe as a spy, but otherwise not noteworthy. "There will be company for you, Avan." She smiled at the military bearing he was unconscious of. He stood erect, stomach pulled up and in, chin level. He met her eyes. "Garak has his own favorites." "I doubt I would have been bored anyway." She held tightly to his elbow. "Just remember who owns you, Avan. You'll be fine." Garak's quarters were lushly appointed in the dark purple of the Cardassian sky and the obsidian representing...well, best to treat that with respect. His bed, within convenient view, was draped in richness, designed for seduction. The two Terrans kneeling by the bed undoubtedly had enjoyed its luxuries. Both kept their eyes on Garak. Garak dressed his concubines just as richly as she did. Both Bashir and the woman wore deep red, normally a color of power. That was Garak's irony. Avan/Jean-Luc wore green. Garak, dressed in dark crimson, greeted them both with affable charm. "Ah, Intendant. I am more delighted than ever that you accepted my invitation. How else would I be able to thank you for such exquisite gifts?" At a nod from Avan, Nerys said slowly, "Mon plaisir de diner avec vous ce soir." She noticed that the barbarian, Bashir, looked up, comprehension in his eyes. Ah. Her Avan continued to be useful. "I don't believe I understood what you said so eloquently," Garak said, motioning for Bashir to pour the kanaar. "I trust it was complimentary?" "A new language Avan has been teaching me," she said, accepting the glass of kanaar from the Terran female. "Tell him what it means, my Frenschkman." Avan didn't respond immediately. She nudged him after several seconds, then glanced at him to see what was wrong. He was staring at the Terran female with a look of...recognition...in his eyes. And a look of horror. And something else... She narrowed her eyes and spoke sharply. "Avan? Is something wrong?" With difficulty, he recovered and said composedly, "She most assuredly did compliment you, Gul Garak. She said, 'My pleasure to dine with you this evening.'" "Ah." Garak looked intrigued. "You have many talents, Terran. Might I ask you to attend me at table?" "Of course," Nerys said. "And I will take the female...what is your name?" Now, Avan definitely looked at her, although he pretended not to. Perhaps this was someone he knew from his universe...someone he had feelings for. Nerys studied her. Short blond-red hair, a scar on her face as ridged as a Cardassian's chest, rather attractive features...intelligent blue eyes. "Beverly," the woman said. "Beverly...Howard." Avan jumped to serve Garak with the first delicacy, zabu meat. "Beverly." Nerys patted her lap. "Come, sit with me." Bashir remained kneeling as Garak caressed him. His lot was to be decorative. Beverly's was to serve and divert. Avan's was to serve, and suffer. And she couldn't mistake the look on his face when Garak asked, at the end of an evening toying with Nerys' slave, "Might I borrow him for the night? You can take Beverly...and Jules, if you like." "Oh, I think Beverly will be enough to keep me occupied for a good long while," Nerys said sweetly. Her Avan thought he could woo her with a foreign language and gentlemanly ways, all the while longing for his home. She would show him who was master...and she would have a way to tighten the screws when it was time to confront him with who he really was, and what she intended for him. First, though, she hadn't tasted a woman's honey in such a long time...she could barely walk all the way to her quarters. * * * NINE: Jules Jean-Luc now knew how petty and cruel the Intendant could be, and at his first opportunity, he would escape this universe. There had to be a way. He had never been thwarted by anyone, including the Borg. There was no question he would escape. The only question was how. At the moment, escape seemed impossible. Gul Garak had him kneeling by the bed while the Cardassian unbuckled his armor. Jules, the other Terran, cleared the table, and from the looks he shot at Jean-Luc, he wasn't happy about the current situation. Jean-Luc wondered why. Had Garak won the unkempt-haired, slender, rough-voiced Terran? It was unnerving to see Julian Bashir's double so subservient and placid. Jean-Luc had always thought of the young man as reticent, polite, but competent and confident in the medical domain. "The Intendant has abandoned you." Garak looked smug. "You'll soon be accustomed to it. She rarely keeps her toys long these days." "And what of me, Master?" Jules spoke in deference. "Will you require me to please the Intendant?" Garak turned, walked over and cuffed the Terran. Blood jumped from his nose, and Jean-Luc felt pity. "You will do as I bid you," Garak said. "You are no longer a bold Terran rebel. You are mine to do with as I will." So there were rebels against this cruel regime. Perhaps... "I meant no disrespect," Jules said in a sultry voice. "Except that I am most unhappy you would choose him when you have me." Garak narrowed his eyes. "For someone recently captured, you seem to have accepted your fate quickly." Jules lowered his lashes. "Last night was...enough to convince me that I belong with you." Garak smiled at Jean-Luc. "I remember that you sing, Terran. Perhaps you will sing for me...in bed?" He cruelly twisted Jean-Luc's ear and was rewarded with a sudden cry. Jean-Luc cursed himself for the weakness that inflamed Garak. The Cardassian bit the pale lip, and Jean-Luc bit back out of annoyance. Garak, delighted, lifted Jean-Luc like a doll and bore him to the bed. Jules positioned himself in front of Garak, kneeling in a supplicant pose. "Master..." he pleaded. Jean-Luc looked into those eyes, and suddenly wondered how Garak could resist them...so brown, so beautiful, like Jules himself... "Master..." Jules grasped Garak's buttocks and began to knead expertly. Jean-Luc suddenly felt like knocking Garak into the midnight covering of the bed, then...mon Dieu above, what was he thinking...he rarely thought of men that way...it was bad enough that Q kept popping in trying to subliminally seduce him... Garak teased Jean-Luc's neck with strong teeth. "If I have enough left, I may let you see to my needs...after." "I am the only one for you, Master," Jules whispered, with none of the sullenness Jean-Luc had seen earlier. "That will be all." Garak set Jean-Luc on the bed and removed his necklace. "I do so admire the Intendant's taste..." He skimmed Jean-Luc's chest with a sure, ruthless finger, then raked his nails along the same path, tearing the cloth and penetrating the skin. Jules spoke with a roughness that should have gotten him thrown in the ore processing center. "Fine, you spoon-head, you couldn't satisfy me anyway." Garak turned immediately, casually, from Jean-Luc and stared down at Jules. Suddenly, Jean-Luc felt his artificial heart actually freeze with fear for Jules. He wanted to knock Garak aside... "What did you say, you impudent little rebel?" "Having trouble hearing, you old vole?" Garak now picked up Jules easily. "I'm tempted to phaser shut that mouth of yours." "Too bad," Jules purred. "I guess you'll have to suck your own cock now...I doubt you can do it at your age." Garak shoved the mouthy rebel to his knees and began unfastening his armored codpiece. "If you make me come at least twice, I might not kill you." Jean-Luc turned his face into the inky coverlet. He forced himself to lie perfectly still until Garak screamed the scream of 'la petite mort' three times. Then, there was silence, and Jules' soft voice, and long slender, ore-roughened hands shaking him gently. Jean-Luc had to breathe very slowly to avoid an erection. He rolled over and sat up. Jules looked down at him with shrewd, hard eyes. "Allez, allez." The accent was mangled but the French was intelligible. "Vous perdiez votre chance." "Pourquoi?" The word was all Jean-Luc could manage. Jules switched to English. "You're from the other side." "And you know French," Jean-Luc said, still unable to think clearly. "My mother," Jules said simply. "Now, allez." "I thought you would want to escape." "More than anything." Jules' sensual lips shrunk like Beverly's flowers in darkness. "But I have an advantage, here. I'm inside Terok Nor." Jean-Luc nodded, understanding immediately. "What can I do, petit?" He knew that Jules was letting him go for a reason, and he wanted so badly to help... "The Intendant will take you out on her ship to show you off again," Jules said. "She's planning to visit the Ellendi. They have an Orb, so the rumor says. They think it will help the Alliance see the future." "The Orb of Prophecy." "Yes. There are rebel hideouts on the Ellendi homeworld. We've planned to steal the Orb or turn the Ellendi against the Alliance. We can't let them get that Orb." "And you want my help." Jean-Luc remembered trying to keep the Vulcan artifact out of Tallera's hands. But he'd always championed the Bajorans... Still, looking into those eyes, he'd do anything...He leaned forward. "Done." He kissed Jules with a hunger he'd never felt before. "Well, well," Garak drawled behind them. "What an amusing show. Since I'm too spent to reward you, my pets, you can reward each other." Jean-Luc felt himself getting aroused, and Jules' body was like the amber pillars of Me'el IV, magnificent and smooth and sacred...he smelled of sandalwood...his hair tangled in Jean-Luc's hands and... As far as he could tell when he thought clearly again, he'd ravished Jules, but the young beauty nonchalantly cleaned them both with a silk cloth. Jean-Luc felt uncomfortably hot. "You can blame it on science, if you like," Jules said softly. Jean-Luc was almost beyond speech, but he managed, "Quoi?" Jules smiled. "I've...er...been enhanced to give pleasure. It's something the Cardassians do when they decide you're appealing enough to be a makal." Jean-Luc knew that word. It meant concubine, courtesan...whore. "Pheromones," he croaked in disgust, ashamed of using this man. Jules narrowed his eyes. "Spare me your Federation conscience. He wasn't half pleased so well last night. I've just besotted him further. My mission will be easier. Now, go while you still can. Back to the Intendant." The Intendant... Jean-Luc only felt more depressed, and Jules gave him a shove. "She does this all the time with her slaves. You wander back with a sob story of how Garak's plotting against her and she'll forgive you. Now go." Jean-Luc nodded, donned his disheveled clothing, and slowly made his way across the chamber. "You can go now, Avan." Garak, draped on a chair, showed signs akin to drunkenness, but those eyes were remarkably alert. "Tell the Intendant I send my thanks...and the advice that she's been looking frail lately. Perhaps she should rest. We couldn't live without her." Picard nodded dutifully and left before Garak questioned his unescorted departure. Once outside in the darkened, long corridor like the belly of a snake, he pondered his next move. Jules had helped him; surely he owed a boon now, and he always paid his debts. But he had no way of knowing what crisis had befallen the Enterprise...surely he ought to return to his ship? He ought to take the opportunity to escape... "What are you doing here alone, Terran?" The sound of that voice behind him made Jean-Luc think the first thing he ought to do was...attack. * * * TEN: Turnabout Madred's eyes looked deceptively kind as he took in Jean- Luc's paleness, the marks on his ear, chest, and neck...the miserable expression... "I've warned the First Officer about this," he sighed. "I wanted to see to you when you were in chains...before you got to the Intendant...I suppose she cleaned you up, though. Now, I get my chance." "No," Jean-Luc said automatically. "She...she likes to see to me." Madred sighed. "You're not from here, are you? You're not used to our...ways." "I've survived worse from Cardassians." Madred shook his head with the air of a father parenting a recalcitrant boy. "Not by my hand." "Dr. Madred?" Jean-Luc was just as stunned by the title as the strong, quietly authoritative Cardassian in civilian clothes who addressed Madred. There were few familiar with Cardassian politics who did not know the head of the Occupation. Yet Gul Dukat had never looked so benign and concerned as he lugged a medkit. Dukat continued, "What has Garak done to this man?" "If you ask me, it's the Intendant who's wounded him the most." Madred considered Jean-Luc closely. "She can be a fickle woman." Dukat looked sorrowful as he wiped the blood from Jean-Luc's ear. "Leave that, Nurse Dukat." Madred took Jean-Luc's arm. "The Intendant should see this for herself." Dukat ably and gently took Jean-Luc's other arm. Jean- Luc, docile from the bemusement of Dukat being a simple nurse here, let them guide him to the Intendant's quarters. He tensed as Tuvok admitted them. The well-respected security officer from Voyager-now tragically lost in the Badlands-was impassive and stern, Vulcan to the core. If he saw anything improper in the Intendant receiving guests when she was receiving pleasure from Beverly, he said nothing. The Intendant sat up abruptly, dislodging Beverly, who had been weighing her down while massaging her. The Intendant was on her massage table, her lower half surprisingly covered with silk. Jean-Luc took a cue from Tuvok and remained impassive, quiet, cold as a Roman bust. "Dr. Madred, Nurse Dukat." The Intendant still sounded seductive. "Thank you for bringing my pet back to me. I assume he displeased Garak?" "You can see that for yourself," Dukat said with a hint of anger. "Look at him!" The Intendant rose, apparently uncaring that she was naked. Beverly scurried away and knelt awaiting orders. Languidly, the Intendant walked over to Jean-Luc, took her face in his hands and turned it from side to side. "Garak is usually much more vigorous than this. I do have to scold him for ruining your outfit. It was expensive." "He wanted Jules," Jean-Luc said softly, emboldened for once. "He didn't abandon him." The Intendant slid her nails into his chin. "And did Jules abandon him?" She looked at Beverly when she said that, and Jean-Luc comprehended her actions in an appalling clarity. "Garak was right," he said forcefully. "You do look ill- perhaps from your exertions. He wants you to stay in bed and rest." The Intendant turned to Beverly immediately. "Go back to Garak, and tell him I'm feeling so well _you'll_ have to rest for the next few days. Dukat, Madred, escort her back to Garak's quarters." "I'm sure you'll be happy to join her if she stays in bed too long," Dukat said. The Intendant ignored him. "Madred, I believe I gave you an order." Madred treated Beverly with consideration, helping her up. Dukat stayed by her as they walked, ready to catch her, as if she were fragile. If she even had a little of the Beverly he knew inside her, Jean-Luc had no doubt she would survive. At least the Intendant hadn't beaten her... "I can always arrange for you to be with her, and Garak, permanently." Jean-Luc turned to face the Intendant. "You claim to be a leader, but you decide people's fates on a jealous whim." "Oh, don't worry about her. I rather liked her actually. Perhaps we should have a threesome." "You can have whatever you want." "Why is she so important to you?" The Intendant reclined on her couch. "She's from the other side, isn't she? Someone you know. Someone you have...feelings for, enough to make you forget your loyalty to me." "I'm not Miles." "No. You're Ben. Ben promised to stay with me, love me, be loyal, and then he went off in the ship I provided for him with a rather trashy but attractive Trill woman." "People don't love in captivity." She smiled with malice. "But they lust in captivity, don't they? You did, last night. And I smell that Terran, Bashir, on you. Poor Beverly. She obviously hasn't been giving you what you need, in that universe." "It was her decision not to." The Intendant looked triumphant. "Ah...worship from afar, is that it? Someone close at hand who says, 'Not tonight, let's be friends'?" Jean-Luc closed his eyes, remembering Beverly's rejection after Kesprytt...perhaps she had reason...and then he felt a coolness, a cool light...his wounds were healing... "Now you know what it is to have your affections scorned," the Intendant whispered. Jean-Luc opened his eyes to see large, surprisingly vulnerable eyes. It came to him that this woman was deeply unsure and alone. "The way Ben did to you?" She nodded, mouth hard. "I didn't like it when I received it either," he said harshly. The Intendant caressed his head, spiraling her hands inward as if tracing a mandala. "Poor Avan. I was cruel to you, wasn't I?" "Don't send me back to Garak." She smiled. "Garak est un serpente." Jean-Luc nodded. Her face resembled a little girl's. "I'll forgive you...if you'll never abandon me again." Jean-Luc took her hands and kissed her palms, then each finger, and looked deeply into her eyes. They were strangely captivating. She easily pulled him towards the bed. "You must be tired, and I am too. Come, lie in bed with me. If you like, you can even read to me...my favorite is Ro Laren's 'Romance of Dahkur.'" Picard fetched the book in question, and read to the Intendant until they fell asleep, he with the book on his chest. She cuddled him in his sleep, and he woke briefly, remembering the Ellendi...and Jules...and Jean-Luc Picard, the starship captain, plotted until he fell asleep again, more happily than he had in years...if it was the contentedness of the captive, he didn't wonder at it. * * * ELEVEN: Alliances At the end of three weeks, Jean-Luc sat on the bridge of the Intendant's flagship and wondered if his strategy was working. Perhaps in a way it was. The Intendant was allowing him in a military area and soliciting his advice. Even if he did have to sit on her lap. "Tell me, Avan, do you really think the Ellendi will be interested in trading the Orb of Prophecy for Alliance military aid?" Jean-Luc ignored Gul Madred behind him. Since his unsettling encounter with Madred, he preferred, more than ever, to have as little to do with the man. "I don't know much about these Ellendi," he said cautiously. "I've heard rumors about them in my universe, nothing more. But militarily, they are in a vulnerable position, between Cardassian and Bajoran space, and close to Klingon territory. They may deem the Orb a bauble, a small price to pay for autonomy and protection." The Intendant smiled strangely. "Mmm. There was some debate among the Klingons whether we should allow them autonomy at all...but if we Bajorans are benevolent to them, they will be good to us...and may strengthen our position in the Alliance. ETA to the Ellendi homeworld?" "Twenty-six minutes," came the prompt response from the helm, giving Jean-Luc time to choose his words carefully. "If I may offer my further thoughts on the matter?" The Intendant caressed his backside in affirmative response. "Being benevolent is an excellent step. If you hope to achieve solidarity, if you hope to bring order to a chaotic universe, you must first start with a show of generosity." "But they may not respond in kind." "Then you must show yourself more benevolent. It will keep them off balance. If they expect force, show them kindness." She considered this while caressing his head. He reminded himself this small humiliation was worth the opportunity to bring Federation ideals to this universe. James Kirk had the right idea, but like many men, he was not gifted with the foresight of what others would do with his vision. Could Marx and Engels have foreseen what oppression would be committed in their name? "But of course, if they refuse to be reasonable, we must prod them." Seeing Picard's expression, she sighed and lowered her voice. "I'm only thinking of them, only protecting them from the Klingons and the Breen, and the Cardassians. You do understand, I know." "A leader must sometimes caress, sometimes hurt..." She squeezed him tightly in delight. "Yes! Oh, you are precious. I am so thrilled you are accompanying me. I can't wait to show you to the Ellendi." Jean-Luc sat in his rigid dignity, unable to easily relax in her embrace. Oddly, she seemed to find this appealing, and continued to pamper him on her lap as she commanded the mission. The past two weeks, he had tried to distance himself from that one moment of weakness curled up in actual contentment in her bed. He'd continued to treat her with courtesy and deference...which, unfortunately, she was able, in her seductive skill, to transform into moments of animal need and heat as well as erotic languorous excesses of touch and taste and the spice of her. His embarrassing abandonment only served to make her complacent in her hold on him, although, he suspected, never completely satisfied of his loyalty. She was not a foolish or stupid woman, and she seemed to feel herself alone in this universe. Although she had created her own hell, he could not help feeling pity for her. Pity...and a fascination he could not explain. He had rebuffed Ardra easily enough...but where Ardra was obviously and vulgar, the Intendant, as appalling as her excesses were, had some sort of rationale beyond bilking an entire world…she was as slithery as Q, but also as complex…cruel but courageous…indifferent yet concerned…seductive but childlike… frivolous but capable of moments of deep if mercurial affection. He could understand but not condone her behavior. Still, his time with her had increased his determination to help the Terran rebels that she condemned. How was he to find them? He had not encountered Jules again. The Intendant chose not to entertain Garak as long as he had his body slaves. Garak himself dined with them, and was quite pleasant to Jean-Luc, even praising his intelligence and spirit in front of the Intendant. Jean- Luc wondered at his motives...most likely securing his own position. He'd thought of communicating with Jules in French through Garak, but Garak obviously didn't know of Jules' linguistic skills. If he spotted Miles O'Brien's double... Jean-Luc acknowledged that his work here might delay him indefinitely. He missed the Enterprise, but he could think of no greater way to serve the Federation than to support the Terran rebellion. He silently said the words Q had once forced him to say when they'd been trapped in that infernal shuttle for six hours: "The Enterprise will continue with Riker as captain." He had faith in Will Riker and Deanna, in Data and Geordi...and Beverly...they would carry on without him, and if Dieu were willing, he would rejoin them, when the work was done. His first glimpse of the Ellendi homeworld was oddly comforting despite the dark reminders, in the form of Cardassian, Bajoran and Breen ships in orbit and poised serenely to conquer, that this was not the benevolent universe he knew. The Ellendi inhabited a glacial planet warmed only one hour a day by the sun. It was here in the massive tundra and boreal regions that the Orb had apparently been discovered simultaneously in his universe and in this mirror universe. The Ellendi predominantly lived on the surface, and mysteriously did not provide interplanetary visitors with any kind of protection against the extreme temperatures. Madred glared away from the viewscreen. He was not looking forward to visiting the planet, but volunteered in order to safeguard the Intendant and her retinue. Jean-Luc noticed the Intendant liked to tease him about his aversion to cold. "You can say one thing for Terrans," she said, caressing Jean-Luc's muscles. "They don't mind the cold." "Yes, they seem to do just fine in subzero mining Bajor's third moon." Madred wouldn't look at the Intendant either. Jean-Luc awkwardly got to his feet. It was difficult to hear Madred's sympathy for the Terrans. It made him think of the suffering they must endure. The suffering he had endured under Madred's real universe counterpart… No. This was a different universe with different rules. Perhaps this Madred could be of help. "I am susceptible to cold." He shivered for effect while straightening his warm velvet doublet. "What will the Ellendi do to protect us?" Normally, this speaking out of turn would have gotten him cuffed or disciplined, but the Intendant seemed delighted with the chance to coddle him. "Oh, Madred, can't you give him something to warm his blood?" Madred coughed. "Perhaps it is time to administer the medicine the Ellendi physicians sent me in advance of our visit. They claimed it would allow even Cardassians to adapt to cold." The Intendant nodded at Jean-Luc. "Start with him, and then all my followers. Never let it be said that I treat Terrans badly." Madred said nothing as he left the bridge with Jean-Luc following him. He maintained silence until they were inside the well-stocked well-equipped Cardassian sickbay. "Never let it be said…of course not. There are things you don't say on Terok Nor or on an Alliance ship. But not saying them just gives credibility to the absurdity. The benevolent Intendant." Madred pressed the hypo against Jean- Luc's neck. "If Garak hadn't spared you his usual treatment, I might not have restrained myself." Jean-Luc spoke carefully. "Garak only spared me because his slave intervened. His name is Jules Bashir." "Yes, I've had to heal him once or twice in the last week." "He is part of the Terran resistance, working against the Alliance from the inside." That got Madred's attention. They were alone in sickbay, but Madred activated various medical devices to emit a background of droning noise. Then, he proceeded to examine Jean-Luc with unhurried care. "They've been trying to sabotage the Alliance from the inside for years. I'd hoped by now it would succeed, especially now that Sisko has defected. The Intendant got taken down a peg when that happened. I'd like to see her in rebel hands." "The rebels will be contented for now if the Ellendi do not become a friend to the Alliance. They also want to keep the Orb out of Alliance hands. There are rebels hidden on the Ellendi homeworld." Madred shook his head. "The Intendant, for all her lofty talk, doesn't understand their determination. They will fight in the bitter cold with their bare hands if they think it gives them any chance of success." "We need to give them that chance." Jean-Luc never thought he would be asking Madred's help. "I don't know what I can do. I would gladly risk a cold death on the ice rather than treat another Terran slave dying of exhaustion and `ore lung' as we call it…their lungs become so infected with breathing in radioactive dust that they slowly asphyxiate." "Give me a hypo of the medicine. If I can find the rebels, the agent will give them an advantage." Madred slipped a hypo into the folds of Jean-Luc's purple doublet. "I can also `forget' to give some of the Intendant's entourage the medicine. That should slow negotiations." "If you could arrange to stay behind, not go on the mission…" "Of course. Cardassians abhor the cold and the Intendant will indulge me. She knows that if I resign, she'll have to deal with Dukat, and he'll be far more difficult than I to manipulate, intimidate or cajole." "And more difficult than I," Jean-Luc said before he could help himself. "I doubt that very much. You are a man of exceptional courage and will." Madred smiled. "Good luck, Avan." "My name is Jean-Luc." "Jean-Luc, then. I am Siron." "Best of luck to both of us, Siron. La revolution does not succeed alone." "To the revolution, then. The Ellendi await you." * * * TWELVE: Ellendi The Intendant smiled easily at the blue crystalline Ellendi, who did not smile because they had no faces in the traditional sense. Jean-Luc wondered how she would manage to charm them when their entire physiology was an enigma. They resembled eggs, but their bodies were segmented, and they moved using an intricate network of tentacles spreading like a bridal veil from their rounded bottoms. Perhaps this was how the crop-circle-like center of their settlement had been formed, through constant smoothing from the tentacles. The only sign of communication, or response, was the music that seemed to emanate from the Ellendi themselves, changing with their slightest movement. The Cardassian-Bajoran translator rendered the Ellendi's musical sounds into passable, if lest pleasing, speech. "We greet you of Bajor," one single voice said. Jean-Luc knew that the Ellendi communicated in a chorus, and appreciated how this universe's translator had so clearly blended many into one. Many into one…the philosophy of the Federation. How ironic. "And I greet you," the Intendant said gaily. "I can't tell you how pleased I am at this meeting." She elbowed Jean- Luc. "I believe you have something to say too?" Jean-Luc spoke softly. "I am Human. We have many languages where I am from. Mine is French, and we say, `Un plaisir de vous rencontrer.'" There was a pause while the Ellendi listened to the translation. Then, the chorus came back more smoothly, "Human greeting pleases us too." The Intendant squeezed his buttocks in wicked approval as she addressed the Ellendi. "We understand you have something to offer us. We have something to offer you – protection. Although this world of yours could stop anyone who wasn't used to the cold." And it could stop anyone who was not welcomed by the Ellendi, who seemed to inhabit a loose network of crystal…houses? Towers? The structures extended aboveground and below. Each structure glowed with an odd sheen of yellow, almost saffron, as if the towers wore shawls. Jean-Luc remembered that his skin had also tinted saffron briefly, like an incipient bruise, after Dr. Madred's injection. The Ellendi were mindful of their visitors' fragility. Which raised a question: how did the rebels survive? Did they have help from the Ellendi? The Intendant gently squeezed his buttocks again and he understood that he was expected to react…rightly so, for two Ellendi carried the Orb of Prophecy in its scrollwork gold case. The Orb floated between them, without any apparent assistance from their tentacles. Perhaps it was some form of telekinesis, or an advanced antigravity device not readily visible, or even planetary gravity. "The Orb of Prophecy." The Intendant walked forward, arms outstretched. "In exchange, we have the Fifth Fleet of the Bajoran-Cardassian-Klingon Alliance in orbit around your world. We will protect you from those who would harm you. You are in a hostile region of space." Picard wished he were with the captain he still thought fondly of as "Darmok." Trying to communicate to an alien on a strange planet where their survival depended on cooperation was a lighter task. He could not, without knowing more about the Ellendi and their world than was contained in the Starfleet database (he had already learned several facts that the initial survey team had missed), attempt to somehow spirit the Orb away. This situation required cunning and forethought. "We stay, safe, here." The Ellendi pushed the Orb towards her like a deflector might repel an asteroid. The Intendant grasped the Orb easily. Jean-Luc feared she might try to learn its secrets immediately, but she showed uncommon self-restraint as she carried out her diplomatic obligations. "I had brought an agreement to sign…but I don't know how you would use a writing instrument…I suppose we'll settle for sealing this agreement with whatever you drink on this world." There was a loud tremulous hum before the Ellendi spoke. "Merchant, come, bring water of life." Jean-Luc was not surprised to see that the Ellendi had bipeds as assistants. Two humans in bright merchant's clothing entered bearing crystalline carafes of a clear gray liquid that steamed appealingly. The third merchant, a Ferengi, kept his head down. The Intendant stared at the Ferengi for a long moment. "Let the Ferengi serve me." One of the humans, who Jean-Luc realized in mild surprise was Reginald Barclay, offered her the carafe. "I said, I wanted the Ferengi." The Intendant's temper showed, causing loud ripples in the music the Ellendi made. Jean-Luc neared the Ferengi, recognizing him as the double of a man he'd seen repairing the replicators in Quark's Bar. It was clear this man did not wish to be recognized. Softly, Jean-Luc said into the Ferengi's large ear, "Forgive me for what I am about to do, but I'm on your side. Julian Bashir sent me." Before the Ferengi could react, Jean-Luc shoved him toward the Intendant. The Ferengi skidded to a surprising stop and barely avoided spilling the drink all over the tundra and the Intendant. "Rom," the Intendant hissed as though he had in fact drenched her. Rom took the opportunity to throw the drink in her face. "That was for my brother!" The intendant actually dropped the Orb, which fell softly into the tundra. Jean-Luc spoke quietly to Barclay. "Reg, help me." The man looked as flustered as Jean-Luc's Barclay, but recovered more quickly, and followed Jean-Luc. In a few swift moves, both seized the Orb and made a mad dash out of the Ellendi city. The other human and Rom followed close behind. The Intendant's Bajoran and Cardassian guards chased them to the edge of the settlement before doubling over, gasping from the cold. Reginald Barclay had no difficulty breathing or running. Where the other Barclay would worry about hypothermia, this Reginald was determined, hardy, driven. Just to be safe, Jean-Luc inoculated him, Rom and the other human. Reginald smiled. "I don't know who you are…or how you know who I am… but thank you." "I suspect I shall need your help soon." "Anything," Barclay panted slightly. "But we should take cover first. The caves aren't far." The caves turned out to be the belowground extension of an Ellendi tower, and reminded Jean-Luc of an ancient subway, or the sewers of Paris where the Phantom had fled. The tunnels were barely tall or wide enough for the party to walk upright. "This is a great day," Barclay said. "We have the Orb. We've thrown a kink in their military alliance. We have possible help from the gods…and bait for the Intendant." "Do you believe she will follow?" "You would know that better than we would. You were with her." "I was a slave," Jean-Luc corrected. "But she will follow. She won't like being outmaneuvered." Rom tapped his ear nervously. "What was that?" A low humming sound was their warning before one section of the tunnel collapsed. Jean-Luc coughed as he ducked. His fingers blindly encountered the cold golden casing of the Orb. He pulled it with a scraping sound from the falling debris and clung to it, crouching, until all was quiet. He rose slowly, covered in white dust and holding the Orb. Barclay lay under a jagged block of ice, mouth open, blood trickling from his head. There was no sign of Rom or the other human. Jean-Luc hoped they had safely reached the rebel hideout deeper in the caves. He was wondering what to do, and he reached for the casing of the Orb in desperation. Perhaps the Prophets could provide answers. Reverberating around him, the Intendant's voice sounded as musical as the Ellendi, but no less impenetrable. "Stop, Avan...or should I say Captain Jean-Luc Picard? I'm sorry to lose such an exquisite bed-partner...but you've earned your death." * * * THIRTEEN: Rebellion Jean-Luc turned in the narrow, cold horseshoe of the cavern. The Intendant, apparently cleansed of the gray liquid, stood alone, defying him, phaser aimed, eyes saddened as the avan she'd likened him to. "My shuttle." He wondered he hadn't thought of it before. "It wasn't destroyed." "No. I listened to your mission log. You were on a mission to form an alliance with the Ellendi. How odd we should share the same goal...I told you we were alike. But all the while you were deceiving me." She surrounded him with her voice, and he felt temporarily pinioned by every accusatory syllable. "I had a duty not to tell you who I was. We are not to have any contact with this universe." She smirked. "You've had plenty of contact, I'd say." "Not by my choosing." "And I suppose trying to help the rebels wasn't your choice either." He chose not to get into an argument about the rebels. Instead, he said, "You had a choice as well. You could have confronted me, from the first, with your knowledge. That you didn't tells me you were hoping to somehow benefit from my silence. Perhaps you wanted to enslave my mind, to bewitch me…then I would tell you who I was and agree to help you gain a foothold in my universe." "Just as you want to destroy us by consulting the Orb." "Your destruction is already foretold. Your cruelty, rapaciousness, your attempts to crush these people in the name of benevolence will write your doom." She laughed. "I changed my mind. I'll keep you around as a fool, a pet dancing on a chain and telling these silly fortunes. No one will believe you. It's a pity, really. You could have gone far in the Alliance by my side." "If that's what you believe, then why don't you consult the Orb now, and see which of us is right?" She smirked. "Oh, I will…when we're safely on board my ship. This is the Intendant. Two to beam up." Jean-Luc opened the Orb as the shimmering transport beam began to take them. Eternity passed before his eyes in a second…and then he saw himself on the bridge of the Enterprise…no, it was the transporter room…and he was on the floor with the technician rushing to his side. * * * FOURTEEN: The Other Side Nerys jumped up, horrified by the vision she saw of humans commanding Bajoran starships…herself in chains…everyone she'd ever punished taunting her…and when she looked around at the gaggle of human faces around her, she felt that this was as bad as the Orb's lies. She stumbled, humiliated. "Welcome back, Captain," one of the humans said, and she realized he only looked human. His eyes were far too jewellike and his skin was golden. He seemed curious as he stared at her, offering her a hand to help her to her feet. "Thank you, Mr. Data." Jean-Luc Picard stood with even more dignity than usual. "I'm not entirely sure how I got here from…where I was." "As far as we can determine, you disappeared into an alternate dimension," said a rather handsome man with a beard. "A few minutes ago, the Ellendi artifact we brought on board started emitting strange energies" "Some of the Bajoran scientists, and our crewmembers of Bajoran heritage, reported visions similar to Orb experiences." The female voice was crisp, competent, and too familiar. Nerys showed her best seductive smile to the woman in blue with a long coat over her uniform. So this was the woman Jean-Luc pined for. She seemed to be a doctor or some sort of medical person, judging by the way she scanned both Jean- Luc and the Intendant. She made no comment about the way Jean-Luc was dressed. The bearded man looked at Nerys curiously. "The last time I saw Major Kira, she wasn't dressed so…provocatively." "She is not who she appears." Jean-Luc turned to a large alien who was obviously a security officer. "Mr. Thox, Mr. Data, please escort her to quarters and confine her there." "To quarters?" Beverly had an edge to her voice. Jean-Luc took his time before answering. "She is…a diplomatic envoy from another dimension. We will show her every courtesy. Mr. Data?" Safe with her escort, the Intendant smiled at Beverly and whispered, "He's so adorable, isn't he? Oh, by the way, I wouldn't mind one of your massages later. Come to my quarters later…and wear that luscious rose scent I love." Oh, she was naughty. But Jean-Luc had it coming, and she felt better already seeing the grim look on his face, combined with the look Beverly gave him. This universe had possibilities… * * * FIFTEEN: Debriefing Deanna Troi and Will Riker just stared at Jean-Luc open- mouthed. "A milk bath?" Will sounded intrigued. Jean-Luc regretted accidentally mentioning that detail, but the Orb visions were causing temporary confusion in his mind. "Will," Deanna said softly, "I think that's beside the point." "Of course. So, now that we have this libertine leader in custody, what do we do with her?" Will looked solemn. "I don't like anyone who keeps slaves." "Nor do I. And I have no intention of letting her expand the Alliance's power to this universe. But perhaps with her gone, the Alliance may experience instability…and while she is our guest, we can further undermine the Alliance by encouraging the birth of new values…respect for life, for liberty, for fundamental dignity. If she is the concerned leader she pretends to be, she will adapt quickly. And if she does not, we must entrust her to Starfleet Intelligence." Jean-Luc sipped his Earl Grey tea and knew the comfort of being captain again, safe again…in control again. But he had never truly lost control of himself… Deanna angled her head at him. Her voice was gentle. "Captain, you lived through an intense experience. I'll set up a session for you if you like." He wanted nothing more than to stay in his quarters with his books… but the Ellendi waited below. "I should contact the Ellendi and tender my apologies," he said. "We covered for you," Will said. "We told them you had been delayed by an ion storm." Jean-Luc rose, holding his tea. "Then I will contact Starfleet and give my report, also ask them if they wish me to reveal my… experiences…to the Ellendi. Perhaps we should warn them of the strange effects their artifact has." "Lieutenant Dax and Doctor Bashir will want to know about them too," Deanna said. "Doctor Bashir?" Jean-Luc stopped, possessed by memory of the other Bashir. "Is Major Kira present as well?" "She just beamed aboard from the planet half an hour ago," Will said. Jean-Luc drained his tea and left it in the replicator. "Deanna, I want you to determine the Intendant's state of mind. I'm going to see this mysterious artifact first." "Of course." Deanna looked at him in a way that said she was not going to let him avoid a counseling session. "The Ellendi will receive you any time." They would have to, Jean-Luc thought undiplomatically. The Mirror Universe seemed a far more pressing matter…and he would examine that aberrant state of mind later, with Deanna. Right now, he needed Doctor Bashir and Major Kira to tell him of the dangers of the Mirror Universe. He needed their advice. He needed them to stand with him against the Intendant. For now, at least, he held the advantage, and he was once again in control. He was where he belonged. He had his ship and his duty. He was Jean-Luc, and Avan could be consigned to oblivion. "You're all right?" Deanna asked softly. "Never better, Counselor. If you'll excuse me, the artifact is waiting." EPILOGUE: Prisoner This other universe had much to offer. Nerys sipped the wine she'd coaxed from the replicator and thought of ways she could persuade Jean-Luc she'd been a fool to oppose him. Ways that she could appeal to the Terrans here. Ways she could tease and torment Jean-Luc in his bed. She wondered what his bedroom looked like. Elegant? Luxurious? Filled with books? Did he speak Frenschk there? She longed to hear it again, whispered to her sweetly and softly as they drank Terran champagne together. She would win him again…she would learn from this universe how to deal with Terrans…and she would return to the Alliance more powerful than ever. She would use what she learned about the humans here to win the Terran rebels and make them her allies. And she would get a look at this artifact Jean-Luc had spoken of in his log. But first she would learn everything she could about jean-Luc…and Beverly…and she would be prepared to encounter them again. The door opened without preamble, and the double of Intendant Deanna Troi emerged, even more adorable than the ruthless woman Nerys knew. That soft raven hair…large luminous eyes, gracious smile… "I'm Deanna Troi, Ship's Counselor." The woman sounded so sensual even in her professionalism. "Captain Picard sent me to see how you're faring." Nerys smiled. "How sweet of him. He's so loyal. Come and sit by me, and tell me all about Jean-Luc." She looked forward already to the day when she could again call him Avan. Call him loyal. Call him hers. "And tell me," she continued, "do you know a song named `Ride a cock horse'?" END