Reflections by the Glow of the Warpcore

Posted on Mon Jul 14th, 2025 @ 8:38pm by Lieutenant Aidan O'Connor & Lieutenant Ánderijá "Rija" Rautajärvi

2,067 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Wounds From the Mirror
Location: USS Washington - Engineering

The assault on Engineering had ended or lulled at least with the intruders laying siege to the area. In truth it wasn't much of a fight, considering it was hardened troops from the Mirror Universe attacking a bunch of engineers who were more concerned with the matter-antimatter streams and self-sealing stembolts than with combat. Aidan felt himself cheapened having to fall back out of his Engineering section, but he was determined to reclaim it. The main thing was that the intruders couldn't use the controls in Engineering, as he had locked them down and encrypted them in the early moments of the battle.

Aidan took a head count of how many of his people were present. Pierce, Mulcahy, Ortiz, and Johansson were all present. Skalaar, T'Mir, and Degra were also there, though Degra had been hit with a disruptor blast in his left leg and was in need of medical assistance. Aidan had no idea what the situation was elsewhere on the ship, but he had to assume that security would arrive soon to assist in retaking the critical section.

Aidan wondered what had become of his missing personnel, especially Rija. The last he had seen of him, he was fighting...himself it would seem. Aidan was happy to be spared that madness. But he had no desire to leave any of his people at the mercy of these intruders for a moment longer than necessary.


* * *


The first thing Rija knew again was the taste of iron. Thick, sharp, and dry--all at the back of his tongue.

Pain followed, radiating from deep and echoing with each breath he took. His ribs felt like they had splintered into knives. He tried to pull a fuller lungful and nearly blacked-out.

When his eyes fluttered open, the world tilted and vibrated--a total blur at the edges. He felt the bite of restraints at his wrists, realized he was hanging--suspended like an animal carcass from a beam. Blood had dried down his neck and into his collar, crusting stiff against his undershirt.

In front of him, a humanoid shape resolved. For a breathless instant, he thought it was his own reflection--until he caught those glacier-flat eyes. His counterpart stood there, completely impassive yet appraising.

The double stepped closer, tilting Rija's chin up with two fingers. He was efficient and clinical. His gaze swept over the gash at Rija's brow, the dark blooms of bruising along his jaw and ribs, the shallow breaths.

"He may have a punctured lung," Mirror-Rija said, his voice entirely stripped of warmth. "Otherwise, superficial." He didn't wait for acknowledgment. He simply pivoted away, disappearing into a corner Rija couldn't make out.

There was a sudden silence that seemed to sweep forward. It felt as heavy as an old oak door closing. Then she appeared.

Clemmie. Or no. Not Clemmie--this was some nightmare echo, draped in tight black leather that caught the artificial lighting like an oil sheen on water. Her hair spilled around her shoulders in tight ringlets. Those eyes, still bright as the morning--but hard as frost.

She moved slowly, deliberately, each click of her boots measured, echoing throughout the small space. The others--her hulking guards, Mirror-Rija--stood rigid and watchful.

"Inquisitor," one of the guards murmured, bowing his head.

Mirror-Clemmie smiled at Rija. It was the same dimple as the woman who'd shared tea and laughter across a mess hall table, now bereft of warmth.

"Oh, darling," she cooed, her Channel Islands accent crisp as and cold. She stepped close enough that he could smell the warm sweetness of her breath, something floral beneath it. It was a mixture of crushed petals, maybe, and cheap perfume. She raised a small white handkerchief, drew it slowly across her lips, then wet a corner of it with her own tongue.

She pressed it to the gash above his eye, wiping delicately. "You've made quite a mess of yourself."

Rija swallowed down another bolt of pain. His fingers twitched uselessly above him.

She leaned in closer, her lips nearly brushing his ear. "We don't want to harm you any more than necessary. Really, we don't. You've already been such trouble, haven't you?"

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her smile turning sharp. "All we need are the override codes to your precious computer core. You give them to me, and I promise--" She paused, her thumb sweeping over his lower lip as if testing its softness. "I promise, I'll make sure you're spared further discomfort."

Rija's breath rattled in his throat. He opened his mouth, almost a laugh, though it came out as a wet cough.

She squeezed his throat suddenly, nails digging hard into the soft space under his jaw. Her eyes flashed.

"But if you don't..." Her nails bit deeper, cutting off what air he could pull.

Rija forced his eyes open, blood trickling anew into one brow. "What then?" he croaked. "You'll kill me?"

For a moment, she just looked at him--her mouth curving slowly into something feral, thoroughly amused. She stared into his eyes a moment longer and then placed a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. Then she released his neck, stepping back with a flourish as though she were in theatrical production.

"No, silly," she purred. "Not you."

She turned on the heel of her boot and pointed sharply to the right, and for the first time, Rija saw him.

Cash.

Pinned against an auxiliary console, one guard wrenching his arm straight out over the panel while another readied a wickedly curved blade above his Cash's wrist. His uniform was torn, his hair matted with sweat and blood, one eyes already purple and swelled shut.

Rija felt something inside him seize.

Cash bared his teeth in a half-crazed snarl. "Don't you do it, Rija," he spat. "Don't you dare. We're dead either way--don't you give them anything." His voice cracked, but Rija could almost touch the iron underneath.

Clemmie tilted her head, regarding Cash with the calm of a predator who knew they'd already won the hunt. "See, that's the spirit," she said, a hint of fondness in her voice. "So loyal. You see, Lieutenant, we're all dead eventually."

She moved to Cash, trailing a fingertip lightly over the back of his hand, up his forearm, as if admiring a fine sculpture. Then she turned, addressing the room with an easy tone as if she were hosting a dinner party.

"But what a difference it makes, how one arrives at that end. Painfully. Slowly. Or with... a touch more mercy."

She made a lazy gesture, and the guard holding the blade pressed it closer to Cash's wrist.

Rija felt a scream building somewhere deep behind his broken ribs. His vision stuttered, spots appearing in his vision and then shrinking just as quickly.

He spat blood onto the floor between them. The taste of iron, there again. Metallic and final.

Clemmie watched it drip, a small quirk at the edge of her mouth. She turned her attention back to Rija, stepping close enough that he could feel the heat of her body.

"Well?" she asked sweetly, fingers brushing his chin, smearing fresh blood into the stubble. "The codes, dear."

Rija didn't answer. Couldn't. His eyes kept slipping to Cash, with Cash glaring back and shaking his head.

Clemmie clicked her tongue once. Clearly disappointed with Rija as a dinner guest.

"Very well," she sighed, stepping away. "Begin."

The air in that enclosed space seemed to tighten.

Rija hung there, breath shallow, every nerve screaming. He locked eyes with Cash one last time, both men realizing and seeing the same truth--that they could do nothing to stop their pain.

It was the last quiet moment before the blade fell.


* * *

Outside Engineering a cadre of security arrived. Armed with phaser rifles they looked prepared to burst in and neutralize the situation. A slim athletic female with luxurious brown hair and piercing brown eyes looked at Aidan, and speaking with an accent he knew well as English, she questioned him, "What is the situation sir?"

Aidan couldn't help but be momentarily awestruck. Under normal circumstances this was a woman he would definitely be trying to buy a drink for, but as it was, he had serious business to focus on at the moment. "Intruders beamed in, took us by surprise. My people attempted to hold them off, but we eventually evacuated to avoid a hostage situation. I still have people in there, though I canna tell you their condition, nor how many you are facing. If they want to take control of the ship, they'll have a heck of a time doing so. I locked down and encrypted the controls. I'll be damned if anyone is going to keep me out of my engine room though or hold my people hostage."

"I appreciate your desire to charge in there but maybe leave this to us" she replied.

"I understand lieutenant, but as a matter of protocol..." Aidan began, noting the two solid pips on his collar, "I outrank you. Besides, last thing I want is anyone firing a weapon willy-nilly in there. That is a good way to blow us all over the sector. And honestly, six security officers may not be enough to repel these bastards."

""Very well sir" Granger replied gracefully. "There is a weapons locker just down the corridor, you can your people can arm there and you can be back up for us. Sound fair?"

"It does indeed lass" Aidan replied with a smile. He gathered his people and headed off to the weapons locker.

"I believe the lieutenant is enamored with you" Swan noted.

"What? No..." Weasley groaned.

"Calm down Ronald" Granger said with a touch of annoyance, her face slightly flushed with sudden embarrassment. She needed to focus. Once Aidan and his engineers returned, they were going to make a frontal assault to retake Engineering.


* * *


Cash flinched once, a half-step of defiance, but the brute behind him shoved his shoulders forward, flattening his palm against the console like a pinned insect. The knife hovered just above the wrist joint now, close enough Rija could see the edge catch the overhead lighting.

Rija felt his own heart lurch, a knifelike squeeze in the middle of his chest that threatened to fold him in on himself. Every breath rattled through his ribs like wind through busted shutters.

The bull-necked engineer turned his head, his free eyes finding Rija's across the room. Something passed between them--an unspoken order. An apology.

Something caught in his ribs--a thick, black dread crawling up Rija's throat. In that moment, he felt terribly awake, aware of every tiny pain: the crusting blood at the corner of his mouth, the sticky warmth sliding down his side, the harsh pull of tendons on his bound wrists.

Clemmie leaned against the console now, draping herself in a much too casual pose. It was as though she were about to watch an opera and not an execution. Her tongue traced the edge of her upper lip in a quick flick.

"Last chance, darling," she said. "You can still choose mercy."

Rija winced. His vision swam and his head felt too heavy for his neck.

Cash snarled hoarsely again. "Don't you listen to her, Rija. Don't you dare--"

The guard shifted, adjusting his grip on Cash's forearm, the muscles in his own shoulders tensing for the inevitable downstroke.

Rija's vision doubled momentarily--Cash split into two blurry outlines. He tried to lift his head higher but felt a sudden warm trickle slip from his nose, and down across his lip.

Clemmie clicked her tongue, disappointed. She pushed off the console and moved in a leisurely circle behind Cullers, the heel of her boot dragging a tiny squeak across the deck.

"Men," she sighed tenderly. "So proud. So predictably proud."

Her hand came up again, that same handkerchief appearing like some conjured prop. She dabbed at the corner of her own and then leaned in close to Cash's ear, her ringlets spilling over the engineer's shoulder.

"Such a waste of fine hands," she murmured, almost kindly. "And you do have such lovely hands."

Cash's jaw locked, his pulse jumping rapidly.

"Do it," she said.

The blade began its descent.

Rija let out a sound then--not a word, not even really a scream, more an animal-like howl that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep inside. It was a broken, guttural plea.


TBC

 

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