When True Night Falls: A StarTrek Roleplay (J/C || IC)

[Dr Jekyll]

Bradshaw stood up from the captain’s chair, stepped to the middle of the bridge, as ceremoniously as if arriving for a face to face meeting with a Romulan dignitary, or a Klingon Diplomat. His face was calm, his demeanor, aside from the broken order, showed no further sign of having been taken by the appearance of another ship, another crew that mirrored his own. He stared at himself with the same suspicion he would have if he were staring at the face of a Dominion Jem Hadar…. The questions flowing through his mind do not rule out the possibility of a ship of Founders, or clones, and a single founder. “Arm weapons,” Bradshaw spoke calmly, as his eyes bore into those of his mirror, his delayed order being given in a calm, collected voice.

“You won’t need those,” the mirror spoke with a look identical to that of Captain Bradshaw’s, in a tone that copied the calm collective control that Bradshaw was exuding himself. Both men stood in the center of their bridges, both with the same flat, stone cold poker faces engaged, as though the image on the bridge of Bradshaw’s ship was simply being reflected back to them. The difference, the only thing that pointed to Bradshaw that there was truly a live transmission, and not a return of his own projected image, was that his mirror was armed with a hand phaser, holstered to his hip.

“Who are you,” Bradshaw asked, and by the reaction of his double, a shorted, disarmed jerk, he deduced that his question cut short of an intent to say something else. The action was somewhat quick tempered, Bradshaw noting a difference between himself and his mirror in that simple reaction, perhaps one that he wasn’t supposed to see. His mirror’s face broke, a smile, charming and.. Marcus felt somewhat deceiving, split upon his mirror’s lips.

“We are you. At least, we were you. Or we will be you. But that you can see. I am Captain Marcus Bradshaw, and this is Commander Brandon Lewis. Lieutenant Larsen on helm, Lieutenant Tiron on Ops…” the mirror spoke, pointing out each officer, each in turn, as Bradshaw’s eyes lingered upon each of them. His mind reeling with questions… doubts crawling in with suspicion. At first, the situation seemed to dissect itself pretty easily: a mirror universe encounter… but something just doesn’t sit right with him… He can understand a ship of similar, perhaps even an exact crew roster from a relatively similar parallel galaxy, but what are the odds that, of the seven helm officers he has, the eight ops, the twelve security chiefs capable of stationing the bridge… what are the odds that the same staff could configure itself on both ships…

Gods, he hopes Larsen is paying attention now..

“Quaint,” Marcus Bradshaw spoke in response, inwardly hoping his bridge crew recognized the order. It was the one word Marcus had drilled into them to listen for. A safe word, designed to execute a very specific set of instructions from the bridge, primarily the helm, and tactical stations: to retreat… without question, without further order. It was a word he never used, no possibility for confusion. Anytime he said it, as a single word response or in a sentence… it always meant the same: to execute a first strike designed to stall their opponent in order to allow them to make their escape.

The course is already laid in… the word newly dying on his lips, and every heart beat between then and the subtle tilt of the ship as it moved in response to the setting of an escape course was long, filled with anticipation. Do it.. his mind whispered, as though afraid to scream, while his eyes looked forward, onto the face of his twin. Cold, stone eyes looking into his own reflection, knowing his own heart… twisting in anger as the Odin’s weapons suddenly reached out and bit into the other ship’s forward… shields.

[Christiefries]

Facing the view screen once again, she inspected their captain and his behavior. Details struck out to her now, the phaser strapped to his hip, the smirk on his lips. The mischievous look in his eye. Was it a shapeshifter? Or perhaps an evil version of their crew from some messed up parallel universe? No doubt the Dominion would recruit from there to quicken their conquering of her universe. As she observed the other crew members, she noticed they all had phasers, all with the same look in their eyes. Except for her mirror self. The same blank stare as hers, fixated directly on her as if they were connected in some off the wall way.

Mesmerized by the experience, she tilted her head in awe of the spectacle, hiding the anger boiling inside of her. How dare anyone copy herself and her fellow crew mates. The intentions of these imitations were most likely evil. They acted so suspicious, their captain even flinching at the words of her own.

We will be you...

The words sent a chill down her spine, widening her eyes as her mind predicted the future. They were going to replace them. Destroy her crew and deceive Starfleet, which was already under so much pressure and numbers so few compared to what it used to be. The Dominion was massacring them, having no mercy in how quick their ascent into power is.

Quaint

Her captain spoke the one word she'd been silently begging to hear. The one word he made sure to ingrain into her mind for times like these. To retreat without question, to do everything in their power to escape immediately. Only to be used in upmost emergencies.

Slowly, so as not to bring attention to herself, she entered the single command and then calmly brought her hand back to her lap. Gulping, she took a deep breath, watching for any reactions of the other crew. If they were exact copies, they might know the word and understand its hidden meaning. But if they were shapeshifters, they would be stalled for the time being.

She could feel the ship turning, the hum of the engine being brought to life as it vibrated through her feet and echoed throughout her body. Not many could feel the subtle differences in the ship unless they focused intensely on it. Which is exactly what she did. There was nothing more she could do than to be soothed by the infinitesimal features that made up the only home she had left.

Suddenly, the blast was heard as weapons made impact with the ship's shields. The sound resonated in the silence, ringing in her ears. Shockwave from the explosion slightly pushed the ship farther away from the other. The Odin finished turning at this point, preparing to warp into high speed and get out of here for good.