Star Trek®: Mirror Universe: Shards and Shadows

by Marco Palmieri

  If he only knew, Andrul thought as their party approached the collection of women. Like the ambassador, each woman appeared Terran, though with the same dark eyes. The sneer on Andrul’s face must have been evident, as his father admonished him once again in front of the security officers and the ambassador. “Look down your nose all you want now, boy,” he said. “But I assure you, no other house of pleasure in the universe has the uncanny ability to anticipate your most powerful needs and secret desires.”

  “It is our claim to fame,” the woman said, looking uncomfortably into Andrul’s eyes.

  He did not believe this woman knew what he desired at all. Each of the concubines looked to be more delicate than the next. Certainly, they met his father’s tastes for submissive females. Andrul had stumbled across his father’s many mistresses on several occasions growing up. They could not have been further from his true desire.

  “Something exotic,” the woman said, walking past the row of painted women and settling on a mousy, timid little being many years older than Andrul and dressed far more conservatively than the other whores. With her thin frame, he could likely snap her in two with his breath.

  The frail creature’s eyes went wide in surprise. “Mother?” she asked.

  Only more surprised was Andrul’s own father. “I was under the impression your daughter did not entertain,” he said, a note of anger in his tone. “That is what you have always told me.”

  “She never has,” the ambassador assured him. “But I can think of no other person more fitting for the son of the great Gul Taqut than my Deanna.”

  That answer seemed to satisfy Taqut, but it didn’t relax the woman any. “But, Mother, I—”

  “Andrul,” the ambassador said, cutting off her own child. “Deanna will show you the pleasures of the Room of Rixx.”

  Deanna stepped forward, resigned to protest no more. Andrul wanted to reject the frail female, but he knew he was committed to the task. His father would never let him turn down the honor of bedding the child of the proprietress. Though he had no desire for what lay ahead, he did take some pleasure in the idea that he was to receive services that his father had been denied.

  “Don’t worry,” the young woman said softly as they ascended the stairs. “We provide only what the customer desires. As our parents both indicated, it is our specialty here at the Sacred Chalice.”

  This time, Andrul laughed out loud, knowing that his father, who was out of earshot, would assume he was getting into the spirit of things. His father was a fool if he really believed that these women could anticipate all that their guests truly wanted.

  After a short walk through the upper level, Deanna announced that they had reached the Room of Rixx. She opened the door and hurried him inside. He was about to protest being manhandled by the waif, but the words caught on his tongue when he saw what awaited him. Splayed out on the enormous bed were two huge, muscular Terran men barely covered by thin sheets that left little to the imagination.

  Andrul was both enticed by the men and in fear of them. How had these women known? And, more pressingly, would they share this information with his father?

  “Beyond desires, it is discretion that we most pride ourselves on providing at the Sacred Chalice,” the woman said before crossing the room and slipping out through a second exit.

  Deanna Troi let out a frustrated sigh as she made her way through the back corridors of the Sacred Chalice. She found solace in the Spartan decor of the unadorned walls and simple designs of the “employees only” areas. These were her favorite rooms and pathways in the compound of a half-dozen buildings that made up her mother’s domain. The grand halls and suites that were open to the visitors to the Chalice had always struck Deanna as cold and impersonal. They were designed to entice, not to comfort. Perfectly fitting for the realm created by her mother.

  Lwaxana Troi could be maddening most of the time, but her actions today had been unprecedented. Serving her own daughter up like one of the poor Betazoids who had come to the Chalice in search of sanctuary. The few members of a once-proud race now serving as common—or uncommon—whores. Good thing the clients never really questioned how their pleasure givers knew how to anticipate their most intimate fantasies.

  For a moment, Deanna had actually believed that her mother had finally crossed the line. It wasn’t until Lwaxana had directed Deanna to take the young Cardie to the Room of Rixx that the younger Troi had clued into the plan. Deanna berated herself for not catching on sooner. The mere fact that Gul Taqut had been directed to touch down at one of the most distant of the landing pads indicated just how low he was in the Cardassian hierarchy. The day Deanna’s mother lent her out, it would be for nothing less than the leaders of the regime.

  “A fact you should have realized immediately.” Her mother’s voice entered her thoughts. “I expect you to be more on top of your game in the future. You could have offended our guests by your reluctance to play along.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” Deanna thought. She hated that she could not even be alone in her own mind. “I should have figured out your plan.”

  “You should have,” Lwaxana agreed. “The Sacred Chalice is the last refuge of the Betazoid race. It will be yours someday, but I first need to know that you are able to handle the responsibility.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Deanna replied, trying to close her mind to her mother. She’d been practicing the technique for years but had never been able to make much headway.

  “Don’t you dare shut me out!” Lwaxana’s voice screamed in Deanna’s head.

  “You know I feel this is a violation—”

  “Our people have communicated this way for centuries,” Lwaxana interrupted her thoughts. “Even the near-extinction of our race could not stop us from being who we are.”

  “Your race,” Deanna reminded her mother. “I am part Terran.”

  “Now, now, no need to be snippy,” her mother replied with a condescending tone. “Just because you do not share in my abilities does not mean I am not a part of you. Now, keep to the off-limits areas. We can’t have Gul Taqut stumbling across you while you are supposed to be entertaining his son.”

  “Yes, Mother, I know my role,” Deanna reminded her. “I have to audition the new musician anyway.”

  “See to it,” her mother replied.

  “Good-bye, Mother,” Deanna replied, shutting her mother out of her mind as best she could. Deanna hated that Lwaxana could access her innermost thoughts at will. It was particularly annoying that Deanna hadn’t inherited that particular Betazoid trait. Like her father, Deanna was purely Terran in that respect. She could not tap into any minds. She could not feel others’ emotions. It was what had kept her from knowing her mother’s plan for the young Cardassian earlier. It was also what probably kept her mother from selling her as she had all the other Betazoids who had come to the Sacred Chalice in search of a safe place to live. Like every other world that fell under Alliance dominion, even a hint of sanctuary came with a price. Deanna’s price was to help her mother run her own miniature Betazoid Empire.

  Over the years, Deanna had tried to convince herself that their people’s lives were better lived in servitude at the Chalice than in hiding in the caves of Betazed. Even those who attempted to pass as Terran only did so as slaves. Life at the Chalice consisted of luxury accommodations, fabulous gifts from the patrons, and culinary delights not experienced in most of the quadrant. All that was asked in exchange was to rent out their bodies in one-hour increments.

  But they were safe. Nowhere else in the galaxy could a servant anticipate your most secret dreams the way the women and men at the Sacred Chalice could. Even the highest-ranking officials of the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance never bothered to question the way they were able to guess even the most intimate fantasies. Likewise, Deanna had been able to ignore her own questions about whether or not this was the life she wanted to lead. She’d seen what making waves had done to the rest of her family. Her mother had ensured that she and Deanna wo
uld be safe. That was all that mattered.

  Deanna entered her office, where she found an attractive older man waiting for her. Though she had known to expect the Terran, she was still caught short by the sight of him. He looked nothing like her own father, but there was something about him—about the way he regarded her when she entered—that brought back a flood of memories of the man who had abandoned her many years ago. The memories were so overwhelming that she threw a hand out to the wall to steady herself.

  The man was out of his seat in a shot, coming to her side. “Are you okay, Miss?” he asked, with a slight accent that was unfamiliar to her. No surprise, as she’d met only a handful of Terrans in her lifetime.

  “Sorry,” she said, taking his hand as he led her to the chair. “I don’t know what…” She trailed off, still overwhelmed by thoughts of her father.

  “Would you like some water?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he poured her a glass from the filled pitcher she kept in her office. She accepted it gratefully and took a sip of the cool water while allowing her mind to clear.

  “Thank you,” she said as he sat in the chair facing her. “That was…unusual.”

  “Not really,” the man said lightly. “Women typically swoon when they see me. Jean-Luc Picard. Most people call me Luc.”

  She smiled at his comment about the swooning and took the calloused hand that he offered her. The man had a firm grip and was a bit more weathered overall than the musicians they’d hired in the past. “Deanna,” she said as they shook. “The Sacred Chalice is my mother’s enterprise.”

  “Yes, the indomitable Lwaxana Troi,” Luc replied. “My former patron, Gul Madred, visited your fine establishment on occasion.”

  “Spoke highly of us?” Deanna asked. She did not recall any Cardassians named Madred on the guest list, but that didn’t mean anything. They saw so many clients. And her mother dealt with the bulk of them.

  “Madred never spoke highly of anyone but himself,” Luc replied. “May he rest in peace.”

  Deanna caught no small amount of sarcasm in that statement and decided to move off the subject. “And you’re Terran?”

  “Is that a problem?” Luc asked. His expression conveyed that he was worried about his human status being an issue, but something in his eyes suggested that he was not truly concerned. In truth, he seemed surprisingly calm for the interview, considering the work options that awaited a Terran man outside the Chalice. Deanna felt a surprising amount of confidence radiating from the man. She chalked it up to his charm, since she did not share any of her mother’s empathic abilities.

  “Not at all,” Deanna said. “We’ve always kept a few Terrans working in various maintenance and landscaping positions.” Lwaxana liked to have these people around to help with the façade that all of her employees were Terran rather than members of a supposedly dead race. Being that Luc was from Earth and did not possess any extrasensory abilities, her mother wouldn’t consider him as a pleasure provider at the Chalice. Lwaxana Troi didn’t believe that those with average mental acuity served much purpose in that area of her organization.

  “Unfortunately, the grand piano in the salon is unavailable to us at the moment,” Deanna continued. “But we have a slightly battered upright in the staff area.” There was no need to clarify that the grand piano wasn’t off limits as much as it was the salon itself where she was unwelcome. Gul Taqut was likely occupied at the moment, but one of his men was probably stationed in the entrance hall to keep watch. Not that Taqut was a high-profile target, but most of their guests liked to believe they were. For some reason, she felt that she could be honest with Luc about this, though she knew her mother would be angry if she explained the inner workings of the Chalice to a total stranger.

  “No worries,” Luc said, reaching into his satchel. He withdrew a carved stone box that looked to be quite ancient. “I wouldn’t really know what to do with a piano, anyway. My talents lie elsewhere.” He carefully placed the box on her desk and raised the lid. Inside was a copper-colored flute with silver accents. It was wrapped with a string that had a tassel on the end and altogether appeared rather delicate in its padded container. To say that this was not the type of music her mother was expecting would be an understatement, but Deanna saw no reason to stop Luc as he raised the instrument to his lips.

  “I’ll start with a favorite selection of my former patron,” Luc said as he launched into a mournful tune. Like all Cardassian music, the song was precise and strong, if a little maudlin. It lacked any of the subtle qualities that would elicit an emotional response, preferring complicated runs and shows of dexterity over musicality. It was more like a mathematical equation brought to life than a piece of artistic interpretation. Luc’s playing was technically adept, but there seemed very little feeling behind the performance, and the instrument did not really fit the tune. It was at times like this that Deanna wished she had her mother’s empathic powers to help her understand the artist and comment on what was missing.

  She gave a slight nod when the music ended. The music was accurate, if unemotional. Not that the Chalice received many music critics. Their clients only needed something in the background while they made their selections and went off with their temporary companions. “We also have a number of Klingon clientele,” she said. “I don’t suppose there are many Klingon concertos written for flute.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Luc said. Deanna thought she caught the slightest roll of his eyes at the request. “My patron often entertained.” He launched into an intensive tune that certainly evoked emotion, though technically it was little more than shrill squeals. Luc continued to abuse the delicate flute for another minute before Deanna placed a hand out to stop him.

  “That’s good enough,” she said, formulating the nicest way to let him down easily. She hated turning away applicants, knowing their options outside the Chalice were quite limited. Then again, she could try to find a position for him in the landscaping department. Something about the man suggested that he would not have an aversion to digging in the dirt.

  “I have another selection,” Luc said. “Something that better showcases my abilities.”

  “I think I’ve heard all I need,” Deanna said. She’d already decided that landscaping would be an acceptable offer. Her mother wouldn’t be too upset with her.

  “Just one more,” he gently insisted. “Something a little different. From an ancient civilization, long forgotten, called Kataan.”

  “Kataan?” Deanna asked, enjoying the sound of the name. She knew so little of the universe outside the Chalice as it was. The idea of a forgotten civilization besides her own was exciting to hear.

  “This flute is all that is left of them,” Luc said with sadness in his eyes. “How I came across it…well, it’s an interesting story for another time.” He raised the flute to his lips again. “If I may?”

  Deanna shrugged. She couldn’t go anywhere until Gul Taqut’s party left the establishment. “Why not?”

  This brought a smile to Luc’s face and a light to his eyes. It was as if her comment had breathed life into the man. He took a deep breath and began.

  This time, Luc didn’t launch into the music as he had the others. He slowly built the intensity, allowing the music to carry him into the piece. Closing his eyes as he played, it looked as if he were falling into the sound as it repeated and evolved. The music had a calm, pleasant tone unlike anything Deanna had heard before. It lulled her in as well.

  When Luc opened his eyes again, there was a passion in them that matched the intensity of his playing. She saw how the music moved him. And she felt it in her heart.

  Deanna’s chair jumped back with her when she was hit by an unprecedented wave of Luc’s emotions. They flooded into her, mingling with her own as the music ebbed and flowed. The screech of the metal chair produced a dissonant tone that brought Luc out of his musical trance, stopping him.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, clearly afraid that he had offended her somehow wit
h his music.

  “No,” she said, feeling nothing but her own surprise now. “It’s just…it was very moving.”

  “Thank you,” he said, though he stayed on alert, clearly trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

  He wasn’t the only one.

  The Betazoid telepathic and empathic powers were nothing more than a myth to the rest of the galaxy, known by a rare few who had truly studied their histories. It was certainly not something to be discussed with a stranger. But still. Deanna wondered what it was about this man that allowed her finally to tap into what she never before thought she possessed, had been told, on many occasions by her mother, that she never would possess. It had come and gone so quickly that Deanna was already wondering if it had even happened. Looking at Luc now, she could feel nothing but her own confused emotions roiling inside her.

  Deanna barely had a moment to give the matter any thought when her mother blew into the office unexpectedly. Deanna and Luc both jumped to their feet, as if Lwaxana had walked in on them in the midst of an intimate moment. Though this was the one person she could talk to about her new experience, Deanna was not ready to share it. Her mind again went through the mental exercises she’d learned as a child. The lessons her big sister, Kestra, had tried to drill into her head so many times. To protect us from Mom, Kestra had often told her, though Deanna had no idea back then what they needed protecting from.

  She experienced another first as she felt the invisible walls around her mind go up immediately when she called on them. The sudden look of frustration that briefly flashed across her mother’s face confirmed that she’d been successful.

  “Did I interrupt?” Lwaxana asked, sounding as if she hoped that she had.

  “We were just finishing up, Mother,” Deanna said. “This is Luc…um, Jean-Luc Picard.”

  “The new pianist?” she asked.

  “Flutist, actually,” Deanna said.