Maveren 5 stood at the window, her hands clasped behind her back, staring into the inky black of space. The hum of machinery filled the cold, sterile observation lounge of the former Federation station, now a Dominion stronghold. Betazed lay before her, its people silenced under Dominion rule, a testament to the Founder’s strength and glory and more proof of the inevitable fall of the Federation and its allies.

Before her, separated by a single pane of transparent aluminum, the vastness of space stretched out indefinitely, broken only by beetle-shaped Dominion fighters or the brown-yellow hulls of Cardassian warships. This was her fifth life, and like all the others before her, she was devoted to the Founders and their cause… In this case, the cause was the complete annexation of the Alpha Quadrant and subjugation of its people… Well, no, the Humans or the Klingons.  If there were a rebellion, it would come from Earth, and the Klingons would never submit. Best kill them all and use it as an example to the remaining aliens living here that the Founders were their masters now.

The door to the observation lounge opened, and a tall Cardassian walked in. “Ah, Maveren, the Fifth, the Jem’Hadar said you would be here.” The figure of Gul Tarbac stepped up beside her and looked out at the planet below for a moment before continuing, “It is beautiful but far too green and blue for my liking.”

Without looking over at the vorta, Tarbac continued, “One of our patrol ships came across a civilian vessel entering the system. The occupant hailed asking to speak with ‘Someone of Importance’. The ship beamed them to the station’s brig ten minutes ago. I think you may want to speak to them.”

She turned from the window, half her face bathed in shadow, cutting harsh lines across her features.  The usual insincere smile was gone, replaced by a look of steely resolve. “Why should I concern myself with a mere civilian? If you cannot handle these menial tasks, what use does the Dominion have for you?  I’m sure the Founder could find someone… more capable.”

Tarbac let out a low chuckle at that, “I am sure they could try and find someone.” He paused for a long moment before continuing, “This individual matches the appearance and genetic makeup of Captain Rebecca Talon of the USS Denver. I believe you have made her acquaintance before. Interestingly, though, they claim to be from a different universe and have knowledge we would find of use. Given your previous interactions with Talon, I thought you might want to speak to her, though I am happy to interrogate her myself and present my findings to the Founder if you are indisposed.”

The fake smile returned as she stepped out of the shadows.  “Your job is to deal with local matters.   My job is to report to the Founder.  I’ll decide what information is important for her,  not you.  Take care of the interrogation and report back to me.  I believe your people pride themselves in their interrogation techniques.”

Tarbac’s smile held as he nodded, “Very well Maveren, the Fifth. You can expect a report shortly.” With that, he turned and made his way to the door.

The interrogation room was dark except for a single light shining like a spotlight upon the seat where the prisoner would sit. It would effectively blind them, leaving the interrogator in shadow.

Bellitor had stood and slipped into a dark corner after those Cardassian brutes had dragged her in here. Careless fools, she thought to herself. “It’s no wonder these Spoonheads never conquered the galaxy in any of the realities I’ve been in.”

But who is truly the fool here? The fool that didn’t secure a prisoner or the fool that allowed herself to be caught?

Bellitor growled under her breath. This reality had been one series of failures after another. Now, she was stuck 60 years in the past, where there was no Terran Empire. Not that Julie Lei was a particularly good empress, but Humans dominated at least this quadrant, not the Dominion and their Cardassian lapdogs.

How did I end up here? She knew the answer. She hated to admit it, but the answer was easy. She could blame Rebecca Talon or even her former lover Dominus, but it all came down to the fact that she had gotten too greedy, and in her greed, she got careless.

The door opened to her cell and in stepped two Dominion soldiers, a Cardassian and a Jem’Hadar. Once they had moved into the room a tall figure entered the cell and spoke, “Greetings, I am Gul Tarbac Commander of the Cardassian forces here.” He stepped forward into the light beside the chair, “I wanted to welcome you to our newest station.” With a gesture of his hand towards the chair he continued, “Now, we both know how this goes so if you would take a seat I have several questions I would like answered.” At that the two soldiers each took

She stepped out of the inky blackness of the corner and stood before the Cardassian, hands on her hips. In one of the alternate realities, her counterpart had telekinetic powers. She had tried to infuse that trait into her own DNA using her pet Vorta, but to no avail. Oh, how she wished it had worked—she could have snapped the arrogant Gul’s neck by now. No more fake pleasantries. The thought made her smile.

“No, I don’t think I will. And no, you don’t need to resort to torture, drugs, or whatever else you think will make me talk. Have you heard the phrase, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”

Tarbac smiled at that, “Interesting, I am familiar with the expression. Do tell me then, who is our mutual enemy?” He was fairly confident about who the prisoner was referring to but curious about how this was going to play out.

“Rebecca Talon and the Federation.  Though I suspect for you it’s the other way around in the list of priorities. I am good with either since the Federation’s downfall is also Captain Talon’s downfall.”

She stepped forward, placing her hands flat on the desk, and leaned in, letting her coppery hair fall around her face as the harsh artificial light illuminated her delicate features. Her green eyes pierced Tarbac’s own with curious intensity.

“You don’t know who I am?’  She scoffed at the absurdity of her statement, shaking her head.  She straightened and crossed her arms before her, looking down at her seated interrogator.  “Of course, you don’t,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.  “Why would you?”

“I take it that there is more to you than meets the eye,” Tarbac said with a shrug. “I know for that you are not Captain Talon though you match all of our details on file bar a slight irregularity. As for the our enemy we would clearly prioritize the Federation over a single Captian but they are not mutally excluzive.”

Bellitor smirked,  “I am Rebecca Talon… and I am not. I was born in a parallel universe as Rebecca Sandoval. I arrived here from the 2420’s ”

Tarbac took the information in with little change to his expression. After a moment he simply nodded, “Interesting. So what support can you provide us in our mutual objective? Insight into a single Captain’s way of thinking doesn’t give us much.”

“Oh, Gul, you think so little of me,” Bellitor replied, amusement dancing in her voice. Finally, she took her seat, locking eyes with her captor as a sly smile crept across her face. With deliberate movements, she reached into her red hair, fingers tracing the strands until they found a hidden data chip pressed against her scalp. She placed it on the table between them, then slid it toward Tarbac with the index finger of her right hand. “A taste. I can’t give you everything… not just yet.”

Tarbac raised an eyebrow and made a mental note to remind the Jem’Hadar to search prisoners, “And what is it on here that is just a taste?” He reached out, picked up the small data chip, and looked at it with interest.

“Troop positions and tactical information on Vulcan.” Bellitor gave the Gul her most disarming smile, leaning forward slightly as she drew her elbows in, accentuating her chest and the low neckline of her top. The playful glint in her eyes suggested she was fully aware of the effect she was trying to exert upon Tarbac.

Tarbac smiled at that and leaned back in the chair, “You had my curiosity before, now you have my attention.” With that he flicked a finger and the nearest Cardassian hard came over. “Check the data on here and verify what you can. Then,” he said with without taking his eyes off the prisoner, “we can discuss the next steps.”

“So Ms Sandoval, if I may call you that. What now?”

Bellitor’s smile vanished, and contempt crossed her face. “You may not,” she replied, voice clipped and cold. She straightened slightly, arms crossed, as if bracing herself against the mere mention of the name. “Rebecca Sandovals are weak… cowards. In my reality—” She cut herself off, the smile returning, “That is irrelevant in the here and now. I go by Bellitor.”

Tarbac cocked an eyebrow, “Well, Bellitor it is then. And the question remains.”

She stood again and started to pace the tiny interrogation room; the sole directed light fell across her face, waxing and waning.  There was a tinge of agitation in her now, like a clock wound too tightly.  Absently, she ran her hand through her coppery hair, and in the dim light, it exposed a long, jagged scar running from her ear to wrap around her jaw and end under her chin. This imperfection was the only visible error in her appearance.  Even after being manhandled by the Jem’hadar, her makeup and outfit were immaculate, finely tailored in black and grey wool.  No seam out of place. No unintentional wrinkle.

“Now is the time to strike.” She halted mid-pace, her face half-lit, casting her expression in sharp relief. “The longer you linger in this system without acting, the more time you give the Federation to rally its forces, to plan an offensive.” Her voice held a cold certainty. “One thing I’ve come to understand about this reality: The Federation is weak. It has no hunger for conquest or drive for power. It prefers diplomacy over defending itself.  But press them hard and long enough, and they’ll lash out—and in doing so, you’ll find yourself an enemy with a terrible resolve.”

Her gaze hardened and tightened her jaw. “If you fail, I fail,” she continued, voice low and clipped. “And that, certainly, will not do.”

She allowed a brief, almost imperceptible smile to slip as she reminded herself, I have never been known as an honest woman, but Tarbac doesn’t need to know that.

“If the data is accurate then we might put it to use,” he said with a slight shrug before adding, “If the Founders deem it important.”

“Of course, but she will be,” Bellitor said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.