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konstantyaTitle: Façades: A Mirror Universe Story (Chapter 3)
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: AU, drama, adventure.
Characters/pairings: Mirror!Data/Mirror!Tasha.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,411
Summary: In this universe, the Terran Empire didn't fall. A tale revolving around the ISS Enterprise, with Tasha Yar still alive, Data as this century's Casanova, Worf playing for the wrong side, and a one-eyed Wesley Crusher. (Rewrite of this fic, by Pseudo Posthuman.)
All other chapters can be found here.
Chapter 3
"So what shall we do with the thirty-five Klingons in our cargo bay? I would appreciate some suggestions." The captain sat back in his chair, clasping his hands and raising an eyebrow at Will and Deanna.
"Interrogation," the latter said, almost too quickly.
"Offer them up to the nearest starbase or the next Imperial ship that passes our way?" Will offered. Deanna sent an annoyed glance his way.
The captain nodded in thought. "I don't want Klingons on my ship unless they serve a purpose," he admitted irritably. "…And correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't we seen one of them before?"
"Yes," Deanna said, "the captain, Worf. We encountered him and his crew several times along the border last year. He seemed to have a new command this time."
"Yes, I remember him now," Will said. "He was the one you referred to as 'Robin Hood,' Captain."
Picard hummed musingly at that, and then came to a decision. "Commander Riker, contact the nearest starbase. Have them prepare cells for the Klingons. We'll let them deal with them."
Will moved to stand. "Aye, sir."
"But we keep Robin Hood," the captain added.
Will nodded, and took his leave of the ready room with Deanna. They walked to the turbolift and called for their respective decks, and it was then that Deanna shot him another annoyed glance.
"What?" Will asked.
"You're ruining my fun, Will."
He folded his arms. "Your fun?"
Deanna came forward, folding her own arms haughtily. The action seemed designed to draw attention to her already-prominent décolletage. "With the Klingons," she clarified.
Will scoffed at her, his eyes dropping momentarily to her chest. "We all know you don't need Klingons to have fun."
"Well," she said, sliding her hands to her hips and slinking closer, "what else would I do on a ship like this?" She was enjoying herself immensely—enjoying the combination of anxiety and arousal that she was feeling from the first officer, enjoying the tension in his throat and the nervousness that was showing in his eyes. But before she could do anything more, the turbolift stopped and opened to her deck. She smiled at Will, dragging a finger down his cheek. Will swallowed and was visibly relieved when she finally left the lift.
She had decided to take a visit to sickbay; Beverly Crusher was a strange bird—obsessive about her work, flighty in personality, a little neurotic—but, perhaps for that very reason, Deanna enjoyed her company and conversation.
Sickbay was brighter than the rest of the ship, but in some ways, the cold, sterile white light made it even more intimidating. On the tables were a variety of instruments, some still unwashed from their last use. The bio-beds were almost filled with dead Romulans; only one had been left empty—a token consideration to any crewmember who might come by, requiring medical attention. Beverly was hunched over a microscope in the far corner, an impish grin on her lips as she investigated whatever it was under the glass.
"Deanna, come and look at this, quick," Beverly urged in a hushed voice. She practically dragged Deanna in front of the microscope. The Betazoid took a look, but shrugged. "They're growing," Beverly supplied. "It's an airborn pathogen that only affects Romulans." She moved Deanna aside and took another look at her prized germs, biting her lower lip in excitement, fascinated by their growth and movements. Deanna laughed fondly at the doctor.
"Did Commander Data bring a child down here recently?" she asked.
"No," Beverly said bluntly, pulling back from the microscope, her demeanor immediately shifting to something more haunted. "They never tell me anything that happens on this ship anymore. What boy?"
"Data beamed over a Romulan and El-Aurian crossbreed from a Klingon bird-of-prey. I thought he would have brought him down here for a basic examination, at least."
"Well," Beverly said, an amused smile returning to her lips, "you know Data. Once he finds something he likes, he never lets it go." It was something of an inside joke amongst the crew, and Deanna laughed, well-aware it was true.
"Well, ignoring Mr. Data and his toys for the moment," Deanna continued, "we also recently acquired some Klingons, and are on our way to Starbase 417 to drop them off. Perhaps you'd like to make a list of medical supplies you want to pick up while we're there."
"I would, actually," Beverly admitted. She moved to another table and began to play around with a few hyposprays. "Data and Geordi were working on an improved interrogation method, and I was thinking of applying that to some of my own work. Extracting information is far too long a process, as is."
Deanna grinned. "Not when you can sense what's on their minds," she pointed out.
Beverly shot her a smirk. "We don't all have that luxury."
Deanna could only laugh at the truth of that statement.
---
The captain was loath to admit it, but he was just a little tense, flying as close to Orion space as they currently were. The Enterprise had had many run-ins with the Orion Syndicate, and not all of them good. The Orions were traders primarily—neutral traders, that was, and they were very adamant about retaining that position. Perhaps one day the Terran Empire would have the time and would be willing to commit the resources necessary to conquer them, but that day had yet to come; as it was, the relationship between the Empire and the Syndicate wasn't outright hostile, but it was certainly uneasy.
"Sir, an Orion cruiser is approaching from aft," Tasha reported. The captain gripped the arms of his command chair.
"Friendly?" Will asked. Picard ignored him.
"Lieutenant, open hailing frequencies."
Tasha nodded. "Hailing frequencies open."
The captain stood, sharply tugging his uniform straight. "This is Captain Picard of the ISS Enterprise. What are your intentions?" He had never been a man for idle pleasantries, and much preferred the simple, direct approach.
The image of the cruiser flicked off-screen and was replaced by that of a large, hulking Orion with more metal in his face than a warp core. "Merely conducting research, Captain," he sneered, placing particular, derisive emphasis on the last word. "Though I must admit that I did hear a rumor regarding your cargo…"
The captain looked over at Will, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged hopefully. Picard turned back around.
"Yes, we recently acquired some Klingons from a battle, and were hoping to relieve ourselves of them at one of our starbases." He paused, and then added with a sly smile, "…Unless you can offer something more?"
The Orion laughed. "I have no use for Klingons—unless they are personal enemies. The Klingon warship you destroyed was the Gr'oth, was it not?"
The captain looked back at Tasha, who nodded in confirmation. "It was indeed."
"And its captain?" Picard looked back once more.
"Worf, sir," Tasha reminded him.
"Yes, Captain Worf," Picard said, turning back to the Orion on the viewscreen. "We were hoping to keep him for ourselves—for an interrogation, perhaps."
Again, the Orion laughed his horrible, hoarse laugh. "I will pay you a fair price for the captain, Worf, and his first officer, Goran."
The captain grinned. "About this 'fair price' you speak of…"
---
Data's cabin wasn't anything out of the ordinary, and had little in the way of distinguishing characteristics. In fact, aside from the custom workstation at one end and a very select, few items he'd cobbled together, his quarters looked as if they had never been used. The bed in particular looked completely untouched, the covers folded immaculately, and Data supposed that at least the boy could make use of that for the time being.
"The computer will respond to any basic commands you give it," Data explained, "however, you will not be able to access any critical files or systems. I will not be here for most of the day, though I will return at approximately 1900 hours."
The boy only nodded. Had Data been human, he probably would have thought there was an awful silence every time the boy, now dubbed Sin, was around. But Data wasn't human, and didn't particularly care about the silence. Nor did he care that the boy would probably be bored out of his mind in such a sparsely decorated cabin.
Before Sin could sit down, a creature—for lack of a better word—about knee-height and covered in black fur came bounding out from the bedroom. It barreled into the boy before he could move and promptly started licking his hands.
Data pulled it back from Sin and ruffled its fur. "This is my dog, Spike. He will not harm you unless you threaten him or—"
"Mr. Data, report to Cargo Bay Three."
Data's head snapped up at the sound of the captain's voice over the comm. He confirmed he was on his way and, with a slight nod at Sin, left.
The door of the cargo bay was open but heavily guarded, as Klingons had a reputation as some of the most formidable warriors in the galaxy. Tasha Yar, herself, oversaw the security detachments, phaser rifle in hand.
"Orions," Tasha said when he came up to her. "They don't want them beamed over; we have to transfer them by shuttlecraft." She sighed and shook her head. "Sometimes I really hate the Orion Syndicate."
"The Orions have never trusted Terran technology, nor the Terran Empire itself, for that matter," Data supplied, eyeing a Klingon who came up to the force-field. "What was the price?"
"I don't know exactly, but we're transferring two of them. Apparently, they're wanted for crimes against the Syndicate."
Picard arrived then, with a hulking Orion trailing behind him—almost one-and-a-half times the captain's height, with a multitude of piercings and his massive arms crossed over his chest. Tasha jerked her rifle at the guards, and they cleared a path for the two.
"That's him. And him." The Orion pointed at the first Klingon, the one Data had observed, and a smaller, younger one behind him with a cross-shaped scar on his cheek. "We will double the payment if they are delivered today."
"That's my intention," Picard said with a wide smile. He turned to Tasha. "Lieutenant, you and Commander Data will transfer these two under the direction of Mr. Reshef here, and we shall rendezvous with your craft in two days."
Both officers nodded. Tasha waved for some of the security guards to move closer to the door, and she punched in a sequence to bring the force-field down. Worf, the captain, came forward of his own accord, head held high. Goran, his first officer, fell in step behind him, displaying the same fierce bravery. Tasha gestured for them to cross the threshold, and then immediately reinstated the force-field on the cargo bay. There were some guttural mutters and growls, too low to make out, amongst the other Klingons as Worf and Goran were placed in thick shackles.
Tasha started off toward the shuttle bay, and Data was about to follow, but the captain grabbed his arm, stopping him. "I expect you to keep an eye on that boy while you're away, Mr. Data."
The android gave him a quizzical, confused look. "Sir?"
"You heard me, Commander."
Data nodded sharply. The captain stalked off in the opposite direction, and Data turned to catch up with Tasha and her security detail. "I will be with you shortly. Escort the Klingons and Mr. Reshef to the shuttlecraft." Tasha nodded, and they parted.
It didn't take Data long to retrieve Sin from his quarters. Data thought it was quite an inconvenience to have to drag a boy around with him, but Captain's orders were Captain's orders. Though he had yet to speak, Data still instructed the boy to be quiet on their trip; Sin responded with a nod.
When Data arrived at the shuttle bay, everyone else was already seated—the Klingons and the Orion in the back, and Tasha in the front. Data took his seat at the main controls, and Sin took a seat on the floor, to the side of the android's legs.
"Make sure you don't screw up the landing," Reshef sneered once they were ready for take-off. "I don't want my Klingons ruined."
Worf growled at the comment, as did Goran.
Data went through the procedure word for word, and once they were clear of the Enterprise, entered in the flight plan. Tasha kept her eyes and her phaser rifle trained on the prisoners, on the lookout for meaningful glances or anything else that might indicate an attempt to gain control of the craft.
"We should arrive in one hour, twenty-two minutes," Data announced.
"And the captain gave us two days to do this?" Tasha asked.
"Trading is a long and complex procedure," hissed Reshef. "It will take at least a day for me to get you your payment."
"So where are we supposed to stay in the meantime?" Tasha demanded.
The Orion gave a tight, green grin. "In this shuttlecraft for all I care. It is so spacious, after all."
Tasha opened her mouth to snap out a retort, but it was then that a console started beeping. Data's fingers danced across the panel.
"Two Orion cruisers are dropping out of warp. Their shields are up."
Tasha looked at Reshef. "Do they know we're coming?"
The Orion's brow furrowed in confusion and, with a bit of effort, he moved his bulk forward. "They should…" He glanced behind him at the Klingons. A little nervously, Tasha noticed, though she paid it no mind.
"Their shields are still up, and their weapons are online," Data said. "We are receiving no response to our hails."
"Where's the Enterprise?" Tasha asked.
"The Enterprise entered warp four minutes, thirty-eight seconds ago." The console in front of him flashed. "The Orions have—"
He was cut off by Orion fire. The shuttle shook and shuddered, the shot devastating to such a small vessel. A console exploded into sparks, the system fried, and Tasha whirled around in her chair to offer assistance. Status readings flew back and forth between the two officers, but what she ended up paying most attention to was the guttural shout of a Klingon.
"You said they wouldn't attack right away! It's too early!" Worf yelled.
"Orions always fuck up—didn't anyone tell you!"
"Shit," Tasha breathed, looking over at Data. "We've been had."
-----
A/N: I love mirror!Troi. If she and (mirror!)Data were ever to team up, they could take over the ship lickety-split, I'm sure of it.
All other fics can be found here.
Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: AU, drama, adventure.
Characters/pairings: Mirror!Data/Mirror!Tasha.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,411
Summary: In this universe, the Terran Empire didn't fall. A tale revolving around the ISS Enterprise, with Tasha Yar still alive, Data as this century's Casanova, Worf playing for the wrong side, and a one-eyed Wesley Crusher. (Rewrite of this fic, by Pseudo Posthuman.)
All other chapters can be found here.
- Façades: A Mirror Universe Story -
originally by Pseudo Posthuman
originally by Pseudo Posthuman
Chapter 3
"So what shall we do with the thirty-five Klingons in our cargo bay? I would appreciate some suggestions." The captain sat back in his chair, clasping his hands and raising an eyebrow at Will and Deanna.
"Interrogation," the latter said, almost too quickly.
"Offer them up to the nearest starbase or the next Imperial ship that passes our way?" Will offered. Deanna sent an annoyed glance his way.
The captain nodded in thought. "I don't want Klingons on my ship unless they serve a purpose," he admitted irritably. "…And correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't we seen one of them before?"
"Yes," Deanna said, "the captain, Worf. We encountered him and his crew several times along the border last year. He seemed to have a new command this time."
"Yes, I remember him now," Will said. "He was the one you referred to as 'Robin Hood,' Captain."
Picard hummed musingly at that, and then came to a decision. "Commander Riker, contact the nearest starbase. Have them prepare cells for the Klingons. We'll let them deal with them."
Will moved to stand. "Aye, sir."
"But we keep Robin Hood," the captain added.
Will nodded, and took his leave of the ready room with Deanna. They walked to the turbolift and called for their respective decks, and it was then that Deanna shot him another annoyed glance.
"What?" Will asked.
"You're ruining my fun, Will."
He folded his arms. "Your fun?"
Deanna came forward, folding her own arms haughtily. The action seemed designed to draw attention to her already-prominent décolletage. "With the Klingons," she clarified.
Will scoffed at her, his eyes dropping momentarily to her chest. "We all know you don't need Klingons to have fun."
"Well," she said, sliding her hands to her hips and slinking closer, "what else would I do on a ship like this?" She was enjoying herself immensely—enjoying the combination of anxiety and arousal that she was feeling from the first officer, enjoying the tension in his throat and the nervousness that was showing in his eyes. But before she could do anything more, the turbolift stopped and opened to her deck. She smiled at Will, dragging a finger down his cheek. Will swallowed and was visibly relieved when she finally left the lift.
She had decided to take a visit to sickbay; Beverly Crusher was a strange bird—obsessive about her work, flighty in personality, a little neurotic—but, perhaps for that very reason, Deanna enjoyed her company and conversation.
Sickbay was brighter than the rest of the ship, but in some ways, the cold, sterile white light made it even more intimidating. On the tables were a variety of instruments, some still unwashed from their last use. The bio-beds were almost filled with dead Romulans; only one had been left empty—a token consideration to any crewmember who might come by, requiring medical attention. Beverly was hunched over a microscope in the far corner, an impish grin on her lips as she investigated whatever it was under the glass.
"Deanna, come and look at this, quick," Beverly urged in a hushed voice. She practically dragged Deanna in front of the microscope. The Betazoid took a look, but shrugged. "They're growing," Beverly supplied. "It's an airborn pathogen that only affects Romulans." She moved Deanna aside and took another look at her prized germs, biting her lower lip in excitement, fascinated by their growth and movements. Deanna laughed fondly at the doctor.
"Did Commander Data bring a child down here recently?" she asked.
"No," Beverly said bluntly, pulling back from the microscope, her demeanor immediately shifting to something more haunted. "They never tell me anything that happens on this ship anymore. What boy?"
"Data beamed over a Romulan and El-Aurian crossbreed from a Klingon bird-of-prey. I thought he would have brought him down here for a basic examination, at least."
"Well," Beverly said, an amused smile returning to her lips, "you know Data. Once he finds something he likes, he never lets it go." It was something of an inside joke amongst the crew, and Deanna laughed, well-aware it was true.
"Well, ignoring Mr. Data and his toys for the moment," Deanna continued, "we also recently acquired some Klingons, and are on our way to Starbase 417 to drop them off. Perhaps you'd like to make a list of medical supplies you want to pick up while we're there."
"I would, actually," Beverly admitted. She moved to another table and began to play around with a few hyposprays. "Data and Geordi were working on an improved interrogation method, and I was thinking of applying that to some of my own work. Extracting information is far too long a process, as is."
Deanna grinned. "Not when you can sense what's on their minds," she pointed out.
Beverly shot her a smirk. "We don't all have that luxury."
Deanna could only laugh at the truth of that statement.
The captain was loath to admit it, but he was just a little tense, flying as close to Orion space as they currently were. The Enterprise had had many run-ins with the Orion Syndicate, and not all of them good. The Orions were traders primarily—neutral traders, that was, and they were very adamant about retaining that position. Perhaps one day the Terran Empire would have the time and would be willing to commit the resources necessary to conquer them, but that day had yet to come; as it was, the relationship between the Empire and the Syndicate wasn't outright hostile, but it was certainly uneasy.
"Sir, an Orion cruiser is approaching from aft," Tasha reported. The captain gripped the arms of his command chair.
"Friendly?" Will asked. Picard ignored him.
"Lieutenant, open hailing frequencies."
Tasha nodded. "Hailing frequencies open."
The captain stood, sharply tugging his uniform straight. "This is Captain Picard of the ISS Enterprise. What are your intentions?" He had never been a man for idle pleasantries, and much preferred the simple, direct approach.
The image of the cruiser flicked off-screen and was replaced by that of a large, hulking Orion with more metal in his face than a warp core. "Merely conducting research, Captain," he sneered, placing particular, derisive emphasis on the last word. "Though I must admit that I did hear a rumor regarding your cargo…"
The captain looked over at Will, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged hopefully. Picard turned back around.
"Yes, we recently acquired some Klingons from a battle, and were hoping to relieve ourselves of them at one of our starbases." He paused, and then added with a sly smile, "…Unless you can offer something more?"
The Orion laughed. "I have no use for Klingons—unless they are personal enemies. The Klingon warship you destroyed was the Gr'oth, was it not?"
The captain looked back at Tasha, who nodded in confirmation. "It was indeed."
"And its captain?" Picard looked back once more.
"Worf, sir," Tasha reminded him.
"Yes, Captain Worf," Picard said, turning back to the Orion on the viewscreen. "We were hoping to keep him for ourselves—for an interrogation, perhaps."
Again, the Orion laughed his horrible, hoarse laugh. "I will pay you a fair price for the captain, Worf, and his first officer, Goran."
The captain grinned. "About this 'fair price' you speak of…"
Data's cabin wasn't anything out of the ordinary, and had little in the way of distinguishing characteristics. In fact, aside from the custom workstation at one end and a very select, few items he'd cobbled together, his quarters looked as if they had never been used. The bed in particular looked completely untouched, the covers folded immaculately, and Data supposed that at least the boy could make use of that for the time being.
"The computer will respond to any basic commands you give it," Data explained, "however, you will not be able to access any critical files or systems. I will not be here for most of the day, though I will return at approximately 1900 hours."
The boy only nodded. Had Data been human, he probably would have thought there was an awful silence every time the boy, now dubbed Sin, was around. But Data wasn't human, and didn't particularly care about the silence. Nor did he care that the boy would probably be bored out of his mind in such a sparsely decorated cabin.
Before Sin could sit down, a creature—for lack of a better word—about knee-height and covered in black fur came bounding out from the bedroom. It barreled into the boy before he could move and promptly started licking his hands.
Data pulled it back from Sin and ruffled its fur. "This is my dog, Spike. He will not harm you unless you threaten him or—"
"Mr. Data, report to Cargo Bay Three."
Data's head snapped up at the sound of the captain's voice over the comm. He confirmed he was on his way and, with a slight nod at Sin, left.
The door of the cargo bay was open but heavily guarded, as Klingons had a reputation as some of the most formidable warriors in the galaxy. Tasha Yar, herself, oversaw the security detachments, phaser rifle in hand.
"Orions," Tasha said when he came up to her. "They don't want them beamed over; we have to transfer them by shuttlecraft." She sighed and shook her head. "Sometimes I really hate the Orion Syndicate."
"The Orions have never trusted Terran technology, nor the Terran Empire itself, for that matter," Data supplied, eyeing a Klingon who came up to the force-field. "What was the price?"
"I don't know exactly, but we're transferring two of them. Apparently, they're wanted for crimes against the Syndicate."
Picard arrived then, with a hulking Orion trailing behind him—almost one-and-a-half times the captain's height, with a multitude of piercings and his massive arms crossed over his chest. Tasha jerked her rifle at the guards, and they cleared a path for the two.
"That's him. And him." The Orion pointed at the first Klingon, the one Data had observed, and a smaller, younger one behind him with a cross-shaped scar on his cheek. "We will double the payment if they are delivered today."
"That's my intention," Picard said with a wide smile. He turned to Tasha. "Lieutenant, you and Commander Data will transfer these two under the direction of Mr. Reshef here, and we shall rendezvous with your craft in two days."
Both officers nodded. Tasha waved for some of the security guards to move closer to the door, and she punched in a sequence to bring the force-field down. Worf, the captain, came forward of his own accord, head held high. Goran, his first officer, fell in step behind him, displaying the same fierce bravery. Tasha gestured for them to cross the threshold, and then immediately reinstated the force-field on the cargo bay. There were some guttural mutters and growls, too low to make out, amongst the other Klingons as Worf and Goran were placed in thick shackles.
Tasha started off toward the shuttle bay, and Data was about to follow, but the captain grabbed his arm, stopping him. "I expect you to keep an eye on that boy while you're away, Mr. Data."
The android gave him a quizzical, confused look. "Sir?"
"You heard me, Commander."
Data nodded sharply. The captain stalked off in the opposite direction, and Data turned to catch up with Tasha and her security detail. "I will be with you shortly. Escort the Klingons and Mr. Reshef to the shuttlecraft." Tasha nodded, and they parted.
It didn't take Data long to retrieve Sin from his quarters. Data thought it was quite an inconvenience to have to drag a boy around with him, but Captain's orders were Captain's orders. Though he had yet to speak, Data still instructed the boy to be quiet on their trip; Sin responded with a nod.
When Data arrived at the shuttle bay, everyone else was already seated—the Klingons and the Orion in the back, and Tasha in the front. Data took his seat at the main controls, and Sin took a seat on the floor, to the side of the android's legs.
"Make sure you don't screw up the landing," Reshef sneered once they were ready for take-off. "I don't want my Klingons ruined."
Worf growled at the comment, as did Goran.
Data went through the procedure word for word, and once they were clear of the Enterprise, entered in the flight plan. Tasha kept her eyes and her phaser rifle trained on the prisoners, on the lookout for meaningful glances or anything else that might indicate an attempt to gain control of the craft.
"We should arrive in one hour, twenty-two minutes," Data announced.
"And the captain gave us two days to do this?" Tasha asked.
"Trading is a long and complex procedure," hissed Reshef. "It will take at least a day for me to get you your payment."
"So where are we supposed to stay in the meantime?" Tasha demanded.
The Orion gave a tight, green grin. "In this shuttlecraft for all I care. It is so spacious, after all."
Tasha opened her mouth to snap out a retort, but it was then that a console started beeping. Data's fingers danced across the panel.
"Two Orion cruisers are dropping out of warp. Their shields are up."
Tasha looked at Reshef. "Do they know we're coming?"
The Orion's brow furrowed in confusion and, with a bit of effort, he moved his bulk forward. "They should…" He glanced behind him at the Klingons. A little nervously, Tasha noticed, though she paid it no mind.
"Their shields are still up, and their weapons are online," Data said. "We are receiving no response to our hails."
"Where's the Enterprise?" Tasha asked.
"The Enterprise entered warp four minutes, thirty-eight seconds ago." The console in front of him flashed. "The Orions have—"
He was cut off by Orion fire. The shuttle shook and shuddered, the shot devastating to such a small vessel. A console exploded into sparks, the system fried, and Tasha whirled around in her chair to offer assistance. Status readings flew back and forth between the two officers, but what she ended up paying most attention to was the guttural shout of a Klingon.
"You said they wouldn't attack right away! It's too early!" Worf yelled.
"Orions always fuck up—didn't anyone tell you!"
"Shit," Tasha breathed, looking over at Data. "We've been had."
-----
A/N: I love mirror!Troi. If she and (mirror!)Data were ever to team up, they could take over the ship lickety-split, I'm sure of it.
All other fics can be found here.
