Title: The Dark Jewel
Author: Gem
Setting: DS9 M/U
Pairings: Kira/MU Dukat, Intendant/MU Dukat, MU Ziyal/MU Damar
Rating: NC-17 for autoerotica, homoerotica, etc.*****************************DISCLAIMER*****************************
All canon characters of the Mirror Universe belong to The Paraborg Collective, I have hijacked them for playtime in my own version of the DS9 MU and will put them back in the cube later. Mirror Dukat's backstory is mine, and since there was no Dukat in the DS9 MU, I joyfully took liberties <GGG>. There is no profit in these stories but I'm not a Ferengi, I just hope you read and enjoy.Now, that being said:
*****************************Warning*****************************
I write Dukat. *BUT* Please don't let the fact that this is a Dukat centered story squick you! I know lots of you out there think you hate him, but please give it a read before passing a final judgement. I realize he ain't always a nice guy, and in this story he may seem to come off more of a *hero*, but bear in mind, This is the MU, after all, so he does *legitimately* act in mirror fashion to his counterpart in the Canon Universe. ******************************************************************************Beta Kudos go to my friend and sometimes writing partner "Lavender". I love ya mel!
Chronology: The timing of this story falls sometime after the events portrayed in the DS9 episode "Waltz" and before "Tears of the Prophets"
*This story is dedicated with greatest respect to Mr. Marc Alaimo*
* * *
The Dark Jewel
CHAPTER 1 PART 1
The Badlands were not a good place for a game of hide and seek. Major Kira Nerys had her hands full just keeping the runabout steady as the *Jumna* skirted treacherous ion swirls and pockets of unstable xenon gas. Kira's fingers flew over the control panel as she shot a quick glance at the readouts.
Bad news. Shields down to 50%; external sensors offline....
*Great*, she thought.
A bolt of blue phaser fire shot by and narrowly missed the *Jumna's* hull to starboard as Kira frowned, glancing at the blurred images of two pursuing vessels on the aft view screen.
Damn Cardassians!
The border patrol had followed her into the briar patch, and like the clever rabbit in the old-Earth legend, she was going to find out what it felt like to be stuck to the tar baby.
Kira considered her options. The Cardassian attack had been swift and ruthless and she knew it would take nothing short of a miracle for the runabout to make it back to Deep Space Nine in one piece. Quickly, she keyed in a general distress call to all Federation ships in the vicinity. The *Defiant* was supposed to be somewhere in this sector, and she prayed Sisko and the others were close enough to pick up her urgent call for help.
In the meantime, she was on her own.
Shorting plasma conduits sent showers of sparks all over the cabin as a second bolt of phaser fire skittered along the*Jumna's* side. The Cardassians were scoring direct hits, and she was running out of time. If she was going down, thought Kira grimly, she wasn't going to make it easy for the bastards, and she sure as hell wasn't going down alone.
Swinging about in a graceful loop, she turned to face her enemies. With a wolfish grin, she dove straight for the lead fighter, blasting the surprised Cardassian with full phasers and scoring a direct hit. The Cardassian fighter blossomed into a ball of red-orange fire, then exploded, leaving behind only a mass of swirling debris.
"Got'chya! " she chuckled.
There was very little time to savor her triumph, however. The remaining Cardassian came hard about, and with phasers wide open, raked the *Jumna* with scorching blue fire. The runabout rolled and yawed pitching Kira from her seat as alarms shrieked and smoke from burning conduits and fusing panel circuitry filled the cabin. Her lungs burned with the acrid smoke as she clawed her way back into the pilot's seat and pulled herself up to the control console.
One glance at the blackened, sparking console was all she needed to tell her she was in deep, deep trouble.
With shields down and the runabout's guidance system completely off-line, the *Jumna* careened wildly toward the onrushing Cardassian. Kira's heart raced as she clung helplessly to the frozen controls. Flickering readouts warned of serious damage to the runabout's warp core when suddenly, flames exploded from the panel circuitry and the *Jumna* bucked and shuddered. The impact with the Cardassian fighter created a brilliant mini-nova of plasma as the cockpit dissolved into a blinding flash of searing heat and light.
*****
"Captain, I'm picking up a subspace echo of what appears to be a distress call, bearing 0-7-1-2 mark 5." Commander Jadzia Dax ran her long, slender fingers over the *Defiant's* communications console, in an effort to get a lock. "It's coming from a region of extremely active plasma disturbances inside the Badlands,' she said, turning around to face the Captain, a look of concern written across her usually serene face.
Captain Benjamin Sisko leaned forward in his command chair. "Can you isolate the source, Commander?" he asked, his dark features mirroring her concern. It had been over two days since Major Kira Nerys had left on a routine reconnaissance mission along the Cardassian border. The mission should have taken only fifty-two hours to complete, but the Major was now several hours overdue.
"There's a lot of subspace interference," replied Jadzia, "and the plasma storms in the Badlands aren't helping. "
Sisko steepled his fingers and tapped his lips softly. "Keep trying, Old Man," he said.
Jadzia nodded, frowning with concentration as she bent over the console.
"Captain," Chief Miles O'Brien swung around from his position at tactical, "I think I may have something here."
"What is it, Chief?" asked Sisko, sharply.
"Sensors are picking up evidence of decaying ion trails leading into the Badlands. One Federation and two Cardassian."
Sisko got up from the command chair and came over to stand behind O'Brien. "Can you tell how old they are?" he asked as he leaned over the Irishman's shoulder to get a look at the readouts.
"From the rate of decay," replied O'Brien, "I'd say there were three ships here a little over two hours ago."
"I'm also picking up an unusually high level of neutrino emissions," added Dax, shooting a glance at Sisko. "There seems to be evidence of some kind of recent quantum hyperstring activity in this area of space, almost a displacement of some sort."
"What kind of displacement?" asked Sisko, fighting down the uneasy feeling beginning to gnaw in the pit of his stomach.
"The plasma in the Badlands is very unstable," explained Dax, "anything could cause a discharge. If Kira and the Cardassians were exchanging phaser fire in an area of plasma disturbance, it's possible there could have been a plasma disruption violent enough to create a temporal displacement wave. That would explain the abnormally high neutrino levels we're getting on sensors."
"Alright," replied Sisko, "But what exactly does that mean to the Major?"
"It means that there's a strong possibility that Kira, and possibly even the Cardassians who were chasing her, may have been swept into another quantum reality."
"The Mirror Universe�" murmured Sisko.
Dax nodded, slowly. "Yes, but this time, we aren't dealing with just a single rift in the space/time continuum. With the number of plasma disturbances occurring here, she could have been lost in any one of a number of quantum anomalies. The possibilities are virtually endless."
The silence grew heavier on the bridge of the *Defiant* as each member of the crew digested this information.
Sisko frowned. "So what you're saying is, we have no way of knowing which version of parallel reality she was swept into."
"That's right," replied Jadzia " and no way of knowing how to get her back out."
* * *
CHAPTER 1 PART 2
Cold darkness...
Weightless and disembodied, Kira spiraled helplessly through endless reaches of space. Then, suddenly, with a jolt, she came to rest lying on her back on something smooth and soft. This isn't right, she thought. She was grateful the pain and searing heat were gone, but if she was dead, why was she still conscious of physical sensation?
Kira tried to move her arms.
Nothing happened. Not surprising, she thought. After all, she was dead.
Yet her *pagh*, her soul, still seemed to be connected to her body in some way. Perhaps it was some sort of transition phase, she thought. Bajoran scripture often spoke of the "journey of the pagh" after the death of the body; perhaps this was all perfectly normal. Somehow, Kira found the thought comforting. No doubt everything was as it should be.
In any case, there was nothing she could do about it now, but trust in The Prophets.
Slowly, Kira's eyelids fluttered open. As her surroundings swam into focus, she was surprised to find herself in a softly lit room, lying in a comfortable bed covered with crisp, cool sheets. The reassuring chirrup of a med-scanner coming from somewhere above her told her she wasn't dead, at least not yet, and instinctively, she turned toward the sound.
"Lie still," a male voice warned. "You've taken quite a blow to the head, not to mention the plasma burns and fractures."
Kira squinted up at the tall figure bending over her, then immediately wished she hadn't as all her systems shot to red alert.
"Dukat! What the hell�?"
Rocketing to full consciousness, she struggled to sit up, only to collapse in agony as blinding pain knifed through her skull. Screwing her eyes shut she hoped against hope when she reopened them, *he* wouldn't be there. And yet, she knew there could be no mistaking the arching brow ridges over deep-set eyes, the jet black hair slicked back against a gray skull set atop a long, powerful neck corded with it's unmistakable Cardassian ridges.
"Take it easy," replied Dukat, gently easing her back down onto the bed. "Don't make me reactivate the immobilization field. Your injuries are almost healed, but you're still in no shape to--"
"What the hell are you doing here, Dukat?" she spat, damned if she'd ever give him the satisfaction of showing how helpless she felt.
Dukat laughed, a deep, rumbling chuckle that sent shivers up her spine. "Isn't that *my* line?" he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "After all, if I'm not mistaken, you were the one caught with your wrinkled Bajoran nose where it didn't belong."
Refusing to rise to his bait, Kira skewered him with a hostile glare. Her situation was precarious. Above all, she had to make Dukat believe she couldn't be intimidated. As a fugitive from justice, he would have nothing to lose by killing her, and Prophets knew he had a taste for murder. As Prefect of Bajor, he'd sent millions of her people to their deaths without so much as a flicker of remorse, and now his predatory stare turned her bones to water. After all, hadn't she witnessed first hand how he'd been driven over the edge of sanity by the loss of *Terok Nor* and the murder, before his eyes, of his half-Bajoran daughter, Ziyal? Kira had no doubt Dukat was capable of anything.
"What are you going to do with me?" she demanded through clenched teeth, praying he couldn't see past the brittle veneer of her bravado.
The Cardassian tilted his head to one side and gazed down at her like a hawk contemplating a sparrow. "*Do* with you?" he growled in the feline purr that always made Kira want to set her phaser to kill, "My mind boggles at the number of delightful possibilities, my dear, but first, I think you had better answer a few questions� hmmm?"
"Forget about it, Dukat."
"Oh, I wouldn't be so hasty," he smirked. "After all, you're hardly in a position to refuse."
Kira's cheeks burned with helpless fury as she followed his gaze down. The thin, black nightgown she wore clung to her curves, revealing much more of her body than it covered, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. She didn't even want to think about how she'd come to be wearing it in the first place.
"Actually, I can't say I found that red uniform of yours especially flattering," said Dukat, his eyes making a slow, voluptuous perusal of her body. "The color's all wrong for you. But then, I've always preferred my women in basic black."
"Now you sound just like Garak," snorted Kira.
Dukat's face suddenly lost all expression, as his eyes grew dark and cold. "And just how is our *dear* friend Garak these days?" he asked. "Is he still up to his ridges in plots?"
Kira knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but to back down from his challenge would only call attention to her weakness, so, instead, she met fire with fire. "He hasn't changed much," she replied, her voice razor sharp with malice. "But what about you, Dukat? It's not like you to show an interest in anyone but yourself."
Dukat's eyes narrowed.
Kira savored the small victory. * Touche', you bastard*, she thought.
Too much the game-player to let her get away with a score against him, Dukat quickly covered his anger with a smile. "True," he agreed smoothly, "but, it's always wise to keep track of one's enemies, isn't it? After all, *you* taught me that."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she bristled.
"No� of course not," he replied, his tone heavy with sarcasm. But before Kira had a chance to ponder his meaning, he suddenly changed tack. Placing a hand on either side of her head so she couldn't move away, he leaned down to gaze into her eyes. "I must say, my dear," he murmured, "despite your little mishap with the runabout, you still manage to look� delicious."
Kira shrank away as his warm breath caressed her skin.
"Power obviously agrees with you," he breathed softly.
"P-Power?" Kira's eyes widened.
"Mmmmm..."
She froze as Dukat lowered his head, his parted lips hovering just above hers�
The door chimed.
Dukat growled deep in his throat, but the tension between them was broken. With a sigh, he pulled away. "Enter," he ordered.
The door slid open. Dukat's body blocked Kira's view of the doorway, but at that moment she would have gladly welcomed even the Pah-wraith's. Relief flooded her as she tried to calm the wild racing of her pulse. She wasn't sure what she would have done if Dukat had actually kissed her, but she was sure she didn't want to find out.
As Dukat turned to the door, the feral predator who had loomed over her only a moment before vanished completely. To Kira's amazement, Dukat's voice and demeanor suddenly took on an entirely different quality and warmth utterly devoid of his usual, cold irony.
"Ah, there you are," he said, striding to the doorway, greeting the new arrival with a paternal kiss. "Come in, my dear, come in."
Kira's heart lurched painfully.
Ziyal!
The strangely touching bond between Dukat and his daughter always took Kira by surprise. It was easy to hate Dukat as a soulless monster, but when she saw him with Ziyal, Kira was forced to wonder if there might be another side to the man, the man he could be, if he ever put self-interest and ambition aside.
But Ziyal was dead.
Dead and buried on Bajor, while Dukat howled out his grief in a padded security cell on Deep Space Nine.
"Come and greet our guest, Ziyal," said Dukat, leading his daughter to the bed where Kira lay. "You'll be pleased to see she's finally decided to re-join the ranks of the living."
Kira could only stare as Ziyal smiled down at her.
"I'm glad you're feeling better," Ziyal said softly, taking Kira's hand in hers. "For awhile, Father and I were afraid we were going to lose you, Mother."
"Mother?" Kira's throat went suddenly dry and closed around the word.
Ignoring the pain the abrupt movement caused her, Kira pulled her hand from Ziyal's and leapt from the bed to face Dukat. "What the hell is this?" she demanded, "Another one of your sick mind-games? Because, if it is--" suddenly she stopped, gasping for breath as the room began to spin slowly.
"Mind games?" growled Dukat, his grayish face pale with anger, "If anyone is playing games here it's *you*! I know it's been a long time, Nerys, but surely you recognize your own daughter."
Kira's world tilted as the sickening impact of Dukat's words hit home. Dukat was a good actor, but he wasn't *that* good, and Ziyal's stricken expression told Kira the girl believed it too.
But it wasn't true.
It couldn't be.
Unless... Kira swayed as the full impact of her predicament hit home. The Mirror Universe! Somehow she must have gotten thrown into the temporal rift when the *Jumna* exploded. It was the only reasonable explanation for why she was whole and breathing and not a mass of subatomic particles drifting in space. She groaned and clutched her head. Unfortunately, the floor chose that precise moment to tilt out from under her. "Great," she muttered, "just what I need." Then, she pitched forward into Dukat's arms.
* * *
CHAPTER 2
It was quiet on the bridge of the Cardassian cruiser, *Groumall*. Only a skeleton crew manned their stations. Usually, Dukat left the running of the night bridge to others, but tonight he was restless. He sat in the command chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he contemplated the twinkling star-field on the forward view-screen. It was late, but he wasn't tired.
He yawned and passed his hands over his eyes.
*sarkh!* Who was he kidding? It was her fault.
*Kira Nerys*.
Why not simply admit he couldn't face another sleepless night, tossing and turning on a narrow bunk in the crew's dormitory, imagining *her* in his quarters, asleep in his bed. Why couldn't he admit that the feelings she'd awakened in him were as strong as ever?
*Even after all these years*.
Dukat closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the command chair's headrest.
*By the Holy Wraiths, it wasn't fair*!
He should have known better than to think he could have forgotten what she meant to him. Correction� what she *had once* meant to him. Even so, the thought of her alone in his bed was like an unquenchable fire raging beneath his skin.
*Fool*!
Launching himself out of the command chair, Dukat strode forward and slid into the seat Damar usually occupied at the Ops station. What he needed was some mindless task to numb his over-active imagination, and running Ops reports fit the bill perfectly.
"Father?"
A soft touch on his shoulder, and Dukat whirled.
"Ziyal. What are you doing up so late? Is something wrong?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, Father," said Ziyal quietly, "but, I need to talk to you."
"About what?"
"Mother." Ziyal dropped her eyes. It was obvious she was as uncomfortable with the subject as Dukat was.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible.
"What happened, Father? Why did she leave us?"
Dukat was silent, feeling the dull ache of old wounds. Funny, how the pain never went away, he thought, it simply lurked beneath the surface. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head, as if by that simple movement he could banish the memories. "She didn't leave us," he said, finally, "we left her."
Ziyal stared at him. "But why? It's obvious you still love her. Why did you leave?"
"It's a long story, Ziyal..."
"I want to hear it," she insisted, refusing to be put off. "I need to hear it."
Dukat looked up into his daughter's eyes, the mirror of his own and knew there was no escaping the inevitable. Ziyal had inherited her mother's tenacity; it was one of the things he loved best about her. "Alright," he sighed, "I suppose it's something I should have told you long ago and I'd rather you heard the whole story from me, anyway."
Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and tried to sort through the swirl of memories�
*****
"In the time before the Alliance," he began, "this quadrant of the galaxy was part of the great Terran Empire. For over a thousand years, The Empire ruled with an iron fist, but over time, it became weak, it's rulers more concerned with thwarting internal intrigues than in interfering with the running of far-flung worlds. Under the rule of The Empire, two planets, Bajor and Cardassia, forged a kind of cultural and economic symbiosis, cooperating on many mutually profitable ventures, the most ambitious being the construction a great space station orbiting Bajor. Built for the purpose of processing Bajor's rich mineral ores, the station utilized Cardassian technology and was manned primarily by Cardassians. For that reason, it was given a Cardassian name, * Terok Nor*."
"The Dark Jewel," whispered Ziyal.
"Yes," Dukat replied, softly. Odd, he thought, how in spite of everything, the memory of the station as it had been in those days still brought a smile of pride to his lips.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ziyal staring at his unguarded expression. Quickly, he straightened up in his chair, once again the model of Cardassian efficiency as he tried to focus his attention on the stream of data flashing by on the console's vid screen.
"I suppose it is a foolish, romantic name for an orbiting ore processing plant," he said, "and yet, the first time I saw the station from space, framed with stars, rotating slowly in the darkness, the name seemed appropriate somehow."
Ziyal sat down on the floor of the bridge and drew her knees up under her chin. Clasping her arms around her legs she stared up at Dukat, the look of rapt concentration on her face reminded him so much of a young riding hound pup he wanted to laugh out loud, but instead, he bit the inside of his cheeks and continued on.
" *Terok Nor* was my first command as a Gul," he said, as he ordered the ship's computer to collate the data and begin processing the ops reports. "It was a highly visible posting, but I was young and ambitious. As far as I was concerned, being in command of an orbiting ore processing plant was just a single step on my career path; but that was before I met your mother."
Ziyal tilted her head and blinked up at him. "So, you and mother had a professional, working relationship before you became� involved?" she prompted.
Dukat cleared his throat nervously. "Well, uh� yes, I suppose you could have called it that."
"What do you mean?" Ziyal prodded, her eyes dancing with amusement at her father's uncharacteristic reticence.
A tiny ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Dukat's mouth. His daughter's impish grin was putting him in serious danger of losing his fatherly decorum. "Major Kira Nerys was the Bajoran liaison officer to Terok Nor and my second-in-command," he replied, "and to say it took us some time to work out our differences is putting it mildly,"
"Was there *a lot* of conflict between you?" giggled Ziyal.
Dukat raised his eye ridges and shot her a sidelong glance. Deliberately sidestepping the obvious sexual connotations of his daughter's remark, he replied, "In the beginning, we often found ourselves on opposite sides of an issue� but, she was the most remarkable woman I'd ever met," he said softly. "She was beautiful, strong and courageous, with a fiery temper to match that red hair of hers." He smiled, and shook his head. "It wasn't always easy to live with her, but I never found it hard to love her."
"But, Father," persisted Ziyal, "didn't the two of you find *it*, well� difficult? I mean, you weren't even the same species."
"Ziyal!"
"I'm sorry, it's just that..." Ziyal dropped her eyes and bit her lip as her skin took on a distinctly pinkish hue.
Dukat lost his battle with propriety and laughed out loud. At times he forgot just how young Ziyal really was. "Actually," he explained, "in those days, before the Alliance Purity League made inter-species unions illegal, it wasn't unusual for Cardassians and Bajorans to mate. Your mother and I were pledged in a Bajoran ceremony, and shortly afterward, she realized she was pregnant. Our future should have held nothing but happiness, but even then, events were transpiring which were about to change everything."
*****
Dukat got up from his seat at the Ops station. Directing the ship's computer to run the completed Ops reports he walked back to his command chair. As he stepped up onto the raised, central platform he stopped, and gazed thoughtfully at the throne-like seat. The battle cruiser *Groumall * had been his home for more years than he liked to remember and his crew had become like a family.
*Certainly a hundred times more loyal*, he thought, ruefully.
Running his hand over the chair's soft, worn leather, he brushed off an imaginary speck before sinking down into it with a sigh.
By the Holy Wraiths he was tired.
Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to seek the blessed oblivion of sleep, but one look at Ziyal's face told him, difficult as it was going to be, it was time she knew the whole story of how she had lost a mother, and he, the only woman he had ever loved.
"The year you were born, Ziyal," he continued, "the Detapa Council signed a secret non-aggression pact with the Klingons. With the weakened Terrans unable to defend the borders of their empire, Cardassia and Bajor presented tempting targets for marauders like the Klingons. On the surface, the 'Great Treaty', was supposed to have insured peace, but instead, the militant faction in control of the Detapa Council quickly turned the agreement into a military alliance with the Klingons, and 'The Alliance' was born.
Almost immediately, Alliance warships began attacking non-aligned planets. Vulcan, Bajor, Betazed, and Ferengenar, all quickly fell to the Alliance. Slowly, the weakened Empire disintegrated to dust, until, finally, even the Terran home world fell before the brutal onslaught. With the fall of The Empire, the entire quadrant came under Alliance control, but by then it was clear The Alliance's goal was total domination of the galaxy."
"What of Terok Nor, Father?" asked Ziyal. "Was it involved in the conflict?"
"Unfortunately, no," replied Dukat.
Ziyal looked up at him in surprise. "Why do you say that?" she asked.
Dukat sighed and gazed out at the star fields rushing by on the forward view screen. It was at times like these he felt the most inadequate, as he searched for words to explain what those dark days had been like, words to make her understand what he had never been able to fully comprehend himself.
*Terok Nor* was spared the worst of the fighting," he said. "Processed ore was needed for the war effort, so in order to meet production quotas, slave labor was imported to the station. They were Terrans, mostly. Forced to live in their own filth, their stench permeated everything. Most of them died, but when disease and exhaustion didn't kill them, their Bajoran overseers were only too happy to oblige."
Ziyal stared at her father in horror. "You allowed this?" she gasped. "You stood by and did nothing?"
"No!" cried Dukat. Rocketing out of the command chair, he paced across the bridge, shaking his head vehemently. "I protested directly to the Detapa Council. They listened politely, but in the end, it accomplished nothing. Instead, I found myself assigned to deep space cruiser duty. My request to return to Terok Nor was denied, and I was told my family would be informed of my change of assignment. I was ordered to take command of my ship immediately and leave at once for the Romulan front."
"I remember," whispered Ziyal softly, "mother told me when I was very small. You left us all alone, without even saying goodbye."
The pain in Ziyal's voice burned Dukat like a phaser hit. He reached out to her, but Ziyal turned away. Staring at her rigid back, he tried to swallow down the hollow feeling spreading in his chest. "I had no choice, Ziyal," he pleaded. "If I had continued my protest they might have done something to harm you and your mother. They were testing my loyalty."
"But, you didn't even try to contact us," insisted Ziyal. "Mother said you left because you valued your career more than you loved us."
Dukat knelt down beside her and took her small hand in his. "Ziyal, please try to understand," he said. "It would have been too dangerous. I had to go, but I never, ever, abandoned you. For three long, bloody, years I dreamed of returning home to you and your mother. It was what kept me alive," he said. "Finally, we were victorious over the Romulans, but instead of sending us home, Alliance Command ordered us to yet another front. It was a crushing blow. Many deserted, but I was able to keep my crew together, and against orders, turned my cruiser around and set a course for home� for Cardassia."
With a sigh, Dukat rose to his feet and began to pace back and forth across the bridge as he tried to put into words all the emotions crashing in on him. How could he express the circumstances that caused him, a loyal Cardassian and career soldier, to turn his back on everything he had thought he believed in? At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do, and yet�
"Unfortunately, I'd no idea how much things had changed," he said. "By the time we arrived home, The Detapa council no longer existed and Cardassia was no longer a sovereign planet. Only The Alliance remained, spreading like a malignant disease across the galaxy.
And then there was my loving wife, Nerys, or rather, as she preferred to be called, the Intendant.
Foolishly, I'd refused to believe she could have become infected with Alliance corruption," he said, bitterly. "Not suspecting what awaited me, I brought my ship and battle-weary crew to Terok Nor where the newly appointed Intendant of Bajor had a warm reception planned for us. The minute the docking clamps were secured, Nerys impounded my ship and threw my crew into a holding cell. There, we learned we faced charges of dereliction of duty and desertion. My plea for clemency for my men was ignored, and when I demanded to speak with the Intendant in person, she responded by pronouncing us all guilty of treason and setting our execution date. By then, it was clear to me the Kira Nerys I loved no longer existed. I didn't know what dark forces had turned her into the corrupt, power-crazed creature she had become, but I clearly recognized the fact I could no longer passively submit to her or to any Alliance tyranny. It was time to be rid of the evil, once and for all."
Dukat stopped pacing. The stars on the forward view screen sparkled like rare jewels against the black velvet darkness. How many star fields and solar systems had they passed through since that fateful day so long ago? How many more must they traverse before they ever returned home�
"As it turned out," he said, "I didn't have to look far to find others who shared my conviction. With the help of a sympathetic security guard, my crewmen and I escaped from our cell, and while my men stole back our ship, I went searching for you."
"I remember," Ziyal murmured. "I was alone and frightened in the dark. Then, you were there, scooping me up in your arms, laughing and kissing me until I wasn't afraid anymore."
"Your mother has never forgiven me for taking you away from her," said Dukat. "Her hatred has kept us on the run for fifteen years. But, I would do it all again to give you a chance to have a future free of The Alliance."
Ziyal uncurled from her place on the floor. Walking over to where Dukat stood, she put her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his back, hugging him tightly.
Dukat sighed.
Nothing mattered now, except Ziyal. Everything he had done, he had done to ensure her future freedom and he was determined to provide her with that future, even if it cost him his life.
* * *
CHAPTER 3
The turbo-lift doors hissed open and a security team led by Dukat's taciturn first officer, Damar, marched onto the bridge dragging an unconscious Kira who sagged like a limp rag doll between two guards.
Dukat spun around as Ziyal ran to Kira's side.
"What happened?" demanded Dukat.
"We caught her in a stolen uniform prowling the corridor outside the main shuttle-bay," replied Damar. "I tried to stop her without getting rough, but she fought back. I had to stun her."
"Stun her?" Dukat thundered. Striding forward, he took Kira's lolling head between his hands and was relieved to see the flutter of her eyelids as she began to regain her senses.
"Damn it, Damar," he growled, "you could have killed her."
"She seemed healthy enough to me," replied Damar, fingering the purplish bruise spreading beneath his right eye.
Kira moaned.
"Father..." Ziyal's soft voice penetrated Dukat's fury.
"Get out of here, all of you," ordered Dukat. Waving the guards away, he stepped in to help Ziyal support Kira, who swayed between them.
"But, sir..." objected Damar.
"Get out!" Dukat snarled.
Casting a last, distrustful glance at Kira, Damar turned and stalked off the bridge.
Kira blinked, trying to focus. The numbness in her legs made standing nearly impossible, and her head felt like it was about to explode. "Where am I?" she said, her voice a reedy whisper. She wished the floor would stop tilting.
"Gently. Just one step at a time."
Kira followed directions. As she moved slowly, she leaned against the strong shoulder supporting her, maneuvering her into a chair where she collapsed, and waited for the room to stop spinning
Slowly, she opened her eyes. "You again..." she croaked, pulling away from Dukat's supporting arm.
Dukat frowned and moved away from her. "That was a foolish stunt you pulled just now," he said, roughly. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"
"No," replied Kira, with as close to a smirk as she could manage, "I was trying to escape."
"Please, don't the two of you start," said Ziyal. "Father, can't you see how pale she is? Mother needs to rest and--"
"Stop calling me that!" snapped Kira.
"What?"
"I said, stop calling me that. I'm *not* your mother!"
"But..."
"Listen to me, Ziyal," sighed Kira, "I'm not who you think I am."
Ziyal stared at Kira, then turned to her father with a look of concern. "Her injuries must be worse than we thought," she said, "Damar's stun has affected her neural pathways."
Kira wanted to shake the girl. "There's nothing wrong with my memory. I'm just trying to tell you I'm not--"
"You're not Kira Nerys," finished Dukat, acidly. "Well, then, if you're *not * Kira Nerys, would you mind telling us just exactly *who* you are?
Kira's temples throbbed. It was all she could do to keep from screaming.
"I *am* Kira Nerys," she said, controlling her voice and her frustration, measuring each word carefully, "I'm just *not her*.
Dukat's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying you're not the Intendant?"
Kira fought down a giddy impulse to laugh. He was finally getting it. "That's right," she gasped, "I� I'm�" Her voice seemed to echo in her head, sounding hollow and far away.
Dukat grabbed her by her shoulders, as if to physically drag her back from the brink of unconsciousness. "Well, if you're not the Intendant, who are you?" he demanded.
"Father, no more questions," pleaded Ziyal. "Can't you see she needs rest?"
"Be quiet, Ziyal," ordered Dukat. Then, tilting Kira's head back, he looked into her face as if seeing her for the first time. "I asked you a question, woman," he said softly, "Who are you?"
"I am... Major Kira Nerys," groaned Kira, struggling against the darkness threatening to envelope her. "I... come from the parallel. universe. I have to get to the Wormhole� Have to get back..."
Dukat stared at her. "The parallel universe?"
Kira nodded. "Yes�" She sighed, her lips curving up in a tiny smile of triumph as she went limp in his arms.
Frowning down at the unconscious woman, Dukat felt something begin to stir deep within him. Could she be telling the truth? Like everyone else, he had heard the legends of the parallel universe, but he had always discounted them as more myth than historical fact, and now to believe this woman could actually be from that alternate reality was stretching the limits of credibility.
And yet�
"Father?" Dukat looked up to see Ziyal staring at him, her ridged brow creased with puzzlement. "What's a wormhole?"
***** The blare of alarm claxons jolted Kira awake.
Red alert!
They were under attack.
Instinctively, she vaulted out of bed, only to be slammed against the wall as the ship lurched and shuddered under the impact of a phaser hit. Ignoring the mini-galaxy of stars shooting across her field of vision, she staggered to her feet and activated the door panel. Another salvo rocked the ship, sending her sprawling into the deserted corridor. Gasping with pain, she rolled to her side and lay panting in the lurid glow of the over-head emergency lighting. They were definitely under attack, but the question was by whom?
This wasn't DS-9 or the *Defiant*. It wasn't even her own bloody universe. She was being held prisoner by an alternate version of Gul Dukat, on his Cardassian warship, in a parallel universe where her worst enemy believed her to be the mother of his child.
Kira's headache returned in full force. Prophets, she hated quantum reality!
The sound of running footsteps echoed down the corridor and she barely had time to roll to her knees when Damar and half a dozen other armed Cardassians appeared, running down the hallway toward her.
"Get up," hissed Damar, as he pointed the business end of a nasty looking disrupter in her direction.
Pulling herself up slowly, Kira glared defiance at the Cardassian first officer.
"Move," snapped Damar and gestured down the corridor with the muzzle of his weapon.
"Where to?"
"No questions. Get moving."
Kira shrugged. No sense arguing. Damar had already demonstrated his lack of patience and she wasn't eager to be stunned again, or worse.
Moving in a deliberatly casual manner, she allowed the Cardassians to herd her down the corridor and into a turbo lift. Damar got in with two security guards, and instinctively, Kira made a quick assessment. *Three against one*, she thought. Pretty good odds, but even if she did succeed in getting away, where would she go? She would still be trapped on the wrong side of the looking glass with no idea how to get to the Wormhole and a chance to return to her own reality. No, she concluded, it was better to bide her time, and wait to see what opportunities presented themselves.
Punching a destination code into the lift, Damar swung back around to glare at Kira. Refusing to be intimidated, she smiled sweetly back at him and had the small satisfaction of watching the dour Cardassian's expression turn even more sour.
When the turbo-lift doors opened, they were once again on the cruiser's bridge. Dukat sat in the center seat, but when he saw Kira, he rose and stepped down from the command platform. With a gesture, he indicated Kira was to sit in the command chair.
Puzzled, Kira hesitated until the hard mouth of a disrupter against her spine propelled her forward. With a questioning glance at Dukat, she stepped up onto the platform just as the cruiser was rocked once again by phaser fire.
"Sit down," invited Dukat, but his tone brooked no argument.
Kira sat.
"Open com-link," Dukat ordered.
The forward view-screen flared. Instantly, the rushing star-field vanished, replaced by the face of a glowering Klingon, the captain of the attacking vessel, Kira assumed. Their eyes met, and the Klingon's dusky face paled and his eyes went wide with surprise and fear.
"Intendant!" he growled, "Forgive me, I had no idea you were aboard--"
"Call off your attack, immediately," she ordered, cutting him off. Kira caught Dukat's eye, and tossed him a quick "you owe me" look.
The Klingon captain barked an order, and Dukat shot a glance at his helmsman, who nodded. The bird-of-prey had powered down its weapons systems.
"Who are you?" demanded Kira. "State your mission!"
"I am Koth, commander of the K'mpec," responded the Klingon. "We are a patrol ship."
"A patrol ship?" said Kira, "What are you doing out so far from the station, Captain? Why aren't you patrolling your sector?"
The Klingon stiffened, but met Kira's challenge. "There were reports of a Cardassian cruiser in this sector fitting the description of the rebel Dukat's," he answered. "I was under orders to seek it out... and destroy it."
Kira bit her lip. This was going to be sticky.
"Well, Captain," she purred, smiling back at the Klingon, "I commend your good work. But, as you can see, there is no need to destroy the ship. I'm taking it and it's crew to Qo'noS. A gift for the Emperor."
Relaxing a bit when he realized he was not going to be punished for accidentally firing on his superior, Koth responded to Kira's smile with a nasty grin of his own. "What of the rebel leader, Dukat?" the Klingon rumbled, "Is he vanquished at last?"
"Oh, he put up quite a fight," replied Kira, her lips curving in a cat-like smile, "But it wasn't anything I couldn't handle." For once, she wished she could risk a glance at Dukat's face. She could almost hear him sizzling.
"Good!" roared the Klingon, "Then, I will provide you with an escort back to the Homeworld."
"No!"
Dukat's sharp intake of breath told Kira she'd almost blown it. Cursing Klingon persistence, she continued smoothly, "As I said, Commander, I have everything well in hand here. I do not require your assistance."
The Klingon's brow ridges came together in an ugly furrow, and for a tense moment, it seemed Koth was going to argue. From the corner of her eye, Kira saw Dukat's hand poised above the command console, ready to fire phasers at close range should the Klingon unwisely choose to insist upon his unsolicited escort.
After a small eternity, Koth finally grunted in agreement. "As you wish," he growled, obviously disappointed, but apparently not willing to risk the Intendant's ire by belaboring the point. "Good journey, Intendant. Qapla!"
Abruptly, the Klingon's face blinked off the screen followed a moment later by the image of the bird-of-prey pulling about, then disappearing in a flash of light as it went to warp.
Closing her eyes, Kira leaned back in the command chair, feeling the tension drain away, leaving her numb and exhausted.
"Well done," whispered Dukat, softly, in her ear.
Kira's eyes flew open and locked with his, daring him to move closer.
Dukat only smiled and moved away with the self-assured swagger Kira despised. "Thank you," she said, to no one in particular. "Now, if someone will show me the way to a bunk, I think I need to lie down."
* * *
CHAPTER 4
The door chimed.
Kira groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. For the first time since she had arrived in this universe, she was beginning to feel like herself. The last thing she wanted was a visitor.
The door chimed again.
Kira sighed and sat up. "Enter," she called out half-heartedly. Responding to her voice-lock, the door slid open.
Ziyal stood in the corridor holding a tray. "I thought you might be hungry," she said, "so I brought you some broth."
"Come in," Kira replied. Stifling a yawn, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretched, then stood up carefully. As soon as she was sure her legs were steady, she padded over to the table in the dining area and sat down. Ziyal placed a steaming bowl of brownish liquid on the table in front of her and backed away, like a keeper leaving food for a caged lioness.
Kira felt a twinge of guilt. "Thank you, Ziyal," she said, smiling up at the girl. "That was very thoughtful."
Encouraged, Ziyal smiled back. "I hope you're starting to feel better," she ventured. "Damar asked me to convey his apologies for having to stun you earlier. He hoped you would understand you gave him very little choice."
Kira snorted. "No," she said, "I don't suppose I did."
Spooning out some broth, Kira blew on it, then, gingerly, took a sip. To her surprise, it was quite good. In Kira's experience Cardassian cuisine was bland at best, but Ziyal's broth smelled wonderfully of garden herbs and tasted of spices Kira couldn't place. She found herself eating with more relish than she would have thought possible under the circumstances.
When she finished, Kira pushed the bowl away and wiped her lips on the napkin provided on the tray. "That was delicious," she said to Ziyal, who had watched her eat with nervous anticipation. "What was the spice you used? I don't think I've ever tasted it before."
Ziyal beamed at the compliment. "Cannaberry," she replied. "It's one of Father's favorites."
At the mention of Dukat, Kira frowned and pushed herself away from the table. It always came back to him, didn't it? After all, she was his prisoner. Mirror universe or not, Dukat was Dukat, and she didn't trust him for a minute.
With a sigh, Ziyal moved to the table to clear away the tray. "He's really not so bad, you know," she said quietly.
Kira jumped. Was the girl half Betazoid, or, were her feelings about Dukat so transparent? "I don't think you know him quite the way I do," Kira replied, tersely.
"Why do you hate him?" demanded Ziyal, slamming the tray down. "He saved your life and has treated you with nothing but courtesy since you arrived here, yet you repay him with nothing but contempt."
"Courtesy!" hooted Kira, "you call being stunned and having a disrupter shoved in my ribs being treated with courtesy? That's a hell of a definition, if you ask me."
"He only did it for your own good," snapped Ziyal.
A smile tugged at the corners of Kira's mouth. She couldn't help thinking if she hadn't been arguing with Ziyal she might have applauded the girl's spunk.
"You haven't been well enough to go anywhere," continued Ziyal angrily, "but you stubbornly insist upon trying to 'escape'. But escape from what? You're not being held a prisoner here."
"Is that another of your 'definitions'?" exploded Kira. "If it is, maybe I should get a dictionary of terms in this universe, because even words don't mean the same thing here."
Biting her lip, Ziyal turned away. Kira caught the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes as the girl stooped to pick up the pieces of shattered soup bowl which had fallen to the floor.
Feeling a stab of guilt, Kira knelt down to help. "I'm sorry, Ziyal," she said, softly. "I didn't mean it."
Ziyal said nothing as she carefully replaced the broken shards of china on the tray, then, with a sigh, she sank back on her heels. "I know," she replied, gazing up at Kira. "It's my own fault. Father warned me not to get my hopes up where you were concerned, and as usual, he was right."
"Get your hopes up? What do you mean?"
For a moment, Ziyal's expression was so child-like Kira fought down an impulse to put her arms around the girl and rock her like a mother would rock her unhappy child. Under the circumstances, thought Kira, it was best she kept her distance.
"When Father first brought you aboard, I was so excited," said Ziyal. "After all these years, you had come back, and there were so many things I wanted to share. Things I'd wanted to do and say since I was very little. Of course, Father warned me you might not feel the same way, but I was convinced you would. After all, you were my mother. I understand now I was wrong to expect that from you, even if you really were my mother, not some duplicate from another reality who never even knew me."
"Who said I never knew you?" asked Kira, smiling gently.
Ziyal stared. "How?"
"There was a Torah Ziyal in my reality, too."
"What is she like?" asked Ziyal, leaning forward excitedly. "Is she anything like me? Well, other than in looks, I mean."
Kira sat down beside Ziyal, taking the girl's hands in hers.
"Actually, she was very much like you," said Kira, giving Ziyal's fingers a squeeze. "She was kind and gentle, and she loved to draw. She would have been quite an artist."
"Would have been?"
"She died..." replied Kira, blinking back the tears that sprang to her eyes, "very unexpectedly."
"You cared for her a great deal," said Ziyal, quietly.
"Yes, I did. She was almost like a..." Kira stopped and gulped painfully.
"Like a daughter?" murmured Ziyal, smiling.
Slowly, Kira nodded.
* * *
To be continued....
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