I am Lurqal. I am Klingon, a servant of the Empire.

Everything disappeared in an explosion of pain, and T’Prynn could only stand and watch as her Klingon reflection morphed, her features cut, stretched, and reshaped. The ridges dominating her forehead melted, replaced with lighter, smoother skin. Her hair grew shorter and lightened in color, framing a new face, that of a beautiful young human female, which now stared at her from within the mirror.

Anna Sandesjo.

•    •    •

Get out of my head!

Sandesjo tumbled to the sand, feeling the weight of her opponent crashing down upon her. His breath was in her face, hot and pungent with the stench of unchecked anger. One hand clenched into a fist and he brought it down, smashing the side of her head. She lashed out, hearing his grunt of pain as the edge of her hand struck his face.

We are one, T’Prynn.

Where was she? How had she gotten here? All around her was sand, surrounded by ornate stone pillars. Somewhere out of her line of sight, someone beat drums in a rhythmic cadence, the tempo increasing with each passing moment. Sandesjo had never seen this place, and yet there was a familiarity she could not understand, just as she knew her opponent and the unrestrained desires which now guided him.

You are mine.

No!

Sandesjo struck out once more, her fists pummeling Sten’s chest. He ignored her attacks, his hands reaching to grasp her head so that he might pull her to him. Placing her hands on his chest, Sandesjo pushed back from him, but she was pinned to the sand, unable to move. Sten leaned closer, his face filling her vision.

Reaching up, Sandesjo felt her hands tighten around Sten’s throat. Even as her fingers dug into his skin, Sten pressed closer, his eyes burning with unrelenting need.

Submit.

The word pounded against Sandesjo’s consciousness as she twisted her hands, feeling Sten’s neck snap.

Never.

Unchecked emotion slammed against T’Prynn’s mind, and she gasped at the ferocity of the sensations washing over her. A new heat raged within her, forcing her consciousness to retreat from the forced meld. Her fingers abandoned the contact points on Sandesjo’s face, and both women cried out in simultaneous shock, their eyes opening and their gazes once more locking.

“I’m sorry,” T’Prynn said, her voice low and strained. “It was not my intention to . . .”

“What . . . what was that?” Sandesjo asked, every word racked with pain as she rolled away from T’Prynn. She reached for her robe, pulling it against her body. T’Prynn said nothing, opting to sit in silence and watch as the other woman regained her composure. After a moment, Sandesjo looked up to regard her with an expression of comprehension and perhaps even acceptance. “So,” she said, her breath shallow and rapid, “now you know.”

T’Prynn nodded. “Yes, though it was not my intention to treat you in this manner.”

“I . . . know,” Sandesjo replied. “It’s not your fault. It’s . . . Sten. You’re carrying his . . . whatever you call it?”

“His katra,” T’Prynn said. “You would think of it as something akin to a ‘living spirit.’ He forced it upon me at the moment of his death. I am unable to free myself of his presence, and dealing with him can be . . . difficult.” She paused, mindful of the fact that Sten’s actions, unwanted and offensive though they had been, had provided her with the information she sought.

As though still aware of T’Prynn’s thoughts, Sandesjo said, “Well, now you know the truth about me. What are you going to do about it?”

Pausing a moment, T’Prynn studied the other woman’s face before her eyes began to wander downward across her body. “For the moment, nothing.” Even as she spoke the words, she knew she could not allow this to continue. It required effort to tear her attention from the other woman and turn her head. “No, this is wrong.” She moved to the edge of the bed, reaching for her discarded uniform. “I must go.” She stopped as she felt Sandesjo’s hand on her bare arm.

“Please stay.”

Feeling shame well up within her, T’Prynn turned to see Sandesjo gazing at her, unchecked yearning in her eyes. “I don’t blame you for what happened. You’re even more a victim of Sten than I am.” She inched closer, her hand moving from T’Prynn’s arm to caress her shoulder.

T’Prynn was uncertain whether she or Sandesjo moved first, but then their mouths were once again upon each other, bodies converging in feral passion.

You are weak, T’Prynn,Sten taunted, mocking her yet again. That is why I ultimately will triumph. Submit.

Never.

She pushed Sten back into the depths of her mind, forcing him into the void from which she knew he soon would reemerge, driven by his unending quest to crush her consciousness with his own. T’Prynn ignored that, and him, just as she set aside the knowledge that she had found her spy. The quarry was not going anywhere, at least not right away. For now, there was only her raw, primal yearning, and the realization that her own inexplicable feelings were matched if not exceeded by what she recognized as Anna Sandesjo’s unbridled adoration for her.

This would pose a problem, sooner rather than later. Of that, T’Prynn was certain.

12

Reclining in the high-backed chair that was a match for the one in his office, Reyes regarded the image of Captain Adelard Nassir displayed on the computer workstation situated in one corner of his quarters. The incoming transmission from the Sagittarius’s commanding officer had come at just before 2100 hours station time, well after the conclusion of his normal duty shift but not so late as to have roused him from sleep.

“Sorry to disturb you, Commodore,”Nassir said, his voice sounding somewhat hollow as an effect of the data compression and encryption processes being used to push the captain’s transmission through however many subspace relay beacons currently separated the Sagittariusfrom Starbase 47. “But I figured you’d want to hear from us as soon as possible.”

Reyes chuckled as he rubbed his chin, which he had last shaved nearly twenty hours previously and now once again was rough with beard stubble. “Be thankful I’m still sober and wearing pants, Captain. It’s been a long day, but not so long as the last couple you’ve had. My compliments to your crew. That’s quite a talented bunch you have working for you.”

On the screen, Nassir nodded. “For which I’m eternally grateful, Commodore.”He then offered a wry grin. “You’ll be happy to know that Ensign Theriault is insufferably pleased with herself. The way things are going, there might not be enough room aboard ship to contain her ego.”

“Let her have this one,” Reyes replied. “Anybody who could pull off that stunt has to be good, or at least damned lucky, and sometimes that’s all you need.” He had read with fascination and no small amount of amusement the ingenious sensor tactic Theriault had employed in order to evade the Sagittarius’s Klingon pursuers while escaping from Traelus II. “Tell her the first round’s on me once you make port.”

Smiling, Nassir said, “She’ll be only too happy to collect.”The captain’s expression then turned serious. “I trust you’ve had time to review our other reports?”

“Yes,” Reyes replied. “They definitely make for interesting reading. The science teams here can’t stop talking about them.” That he found it so easy to slip into a form of code when talking even over an encrypted frequency surprised him, but as he had learned in short order upon taking command of Starbase 47, such measures were necessary in order to preserve operational security. No mention of the Taurus Meta-Genome by name was allowed in verbal communications, and any references to it in written reports were made using euphemisms, where the meta-genome was referred to as a “Type V life sign.” To further cement the disinformation campaign with respect to the enigmatic alien DNA, Federation and Starfleet life sciences data repositories listed that life sign as a form of primordial mold. It was true enough, given the circumstances surrounding the meta-genome’s discovery two years earlier, but no further mention of its unique properties or potential origin was to be found in those publicly accessible records.