The Obsidian Mirror--NC-17

Disclaimer: Paramount owns these characters.


~Chapter 1

As the landing party materialized on the transporter dais, my eyes went immediately to McCoy, the only man on the ship who…gives me pause.

Does that surprise you?

Kirk is intelligent and treacherous, physically strong and charismatic. He can be a formidable opponent—his enemies tend to disappear without explanation. But Kirk is also power-addled, vain and sexually compulsive; his lust for women is second only to his lust for power. He has allowed himself to need me, even to trust me. Therein lays his weakness. He is of no consequence—not to me, at any rate.

McCoy pretends to be sentimental and soft, but I know different. His mental capacity for shielding his thoughts is nearly as well-developed as a Vulcan’s. His intellect rivals my own. He is a skilled clinician--when he applies that skill to healing. In actuality, McCoy is the bringer of death, so utterly ruthless as to make Sulu seem as weak and defenseless as a Halkan. McCoy kills not for the gain of power, but for the sheer joy of holding a dying heart in his hands.

I studied his face, gauging his mood.

I realized instantly that this was not the McCoy who beamed down to the Halkan planet that morning. His eyes were not the flat, predatory blue that I knew. I sent out a mental feeler. This McCoy’s mental shielding was impressive; however, it was only that of a man whose nature is to guard his emotions.

But I also observed that, in the same instant as I, he understood that something was wrong. This McCoy glanced down at himself then froze, eyes flicking around the transporter room. This was not McCoy, but this man’s quick assessment of the situation meant that he too was not to be taken lightly.

I shifted my eyes to Uhura. My breath caught briefly in my throat. This woman was definitely not Uhura. The difference was subtle. The Uhura I knew was lean and viper- quick. Though toned and graceful, this Uhura looked younger, her breasts fuller, her bare belly slightly, softly rounded. Her beautiful eyes held mine for a moment and her plush mouth dropped open. She looked down at the gaudy rings on her fingers and frowned.

She was Kirk’s favorite assassin and occasional lover. The rings were payment for both.

There is a legend about Uhura. An officer, insulted by her rebuffs, decided to force himself on her. He staggered from her quarters, bloody and in agony, his ruined manhood cupped in his trembling hands, having encountered the blade she had hidden in her body. Uhura stood proudly naked in the corridor, laughing and hurling curses. I am uncertain if this legend is true, but only Sulu was unwise enough to test its merit, earning the wound that peeled half his face from his skull. He is still obsessed and will not give up until she kills him. At the moment, she is mildly flattered by his attentions but she will weary of him. His death will be slow, the method of his demise...creative.

I count myself fortunate that she gives herself freely to me.

End Chapter 1
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