Through A Mirror Darkly
(S)

        The ship swerved, sending the bolt of energy ricocheting wildly
around the small space.  Rachael dove one way, Albion the other and the man
just stood there, his face an exquisite study in exasperation.
        "Harvey!" Max hollered and ducked as the bolt sped over his head,
bounced twice more off opposing walls and finally exploded into a pillow,
sending a fine mist of singed fluff floating into the air.
        "Sorry to spoil your fun, Max, but I need you front and center!"
        Max stood and glared at them for a few more minutes, weapon still
pointed in their general direction.
        "Now!"  The disembodied voice was accompanied by another violent
swerve.
        Max scowled, then turned and stomped back out the doorway.  "Harv,
shut and lock the door.  Make sure they don't go nowhere!"  A very solid
metal plate slid into place behind him.
        Rachael scrambled onto hands and knees and promptly slid downwards
as the ship dove.  A quick glance showed Albion having the same amount of
trouble.
        "What the hell is going on?!! she screamed as he slid by her, a
cloud of blond hair and burned fluff.
        "Rachael, grab onto something!" he yelled at her just before she
crashed into the contraption in the corner, upending the uncovered vat
which ungratefully dumped itself onto her head.  Sputtering, she grabbed
onto a solid looking piece of tube and held on for dear life as the ship
jumped sideways three times and then rolled.  That was too much for the
tube, which became unattached to whatever it had been attached to and sent
her flying back into the center of the room as the ship did another
impression of a bucking bronco.
        "Albion!" she wailed and made a futile grab for a furniture leg to
stop her headlong fall into the opposing wall.  Albion managed to grasp her
belt as she sped by, bringing her to an abrupt halt and causing the little
camera to whip up on its strap and smack her on the forehead.
        [So sorry, Rachael!]
        The ship tilted to another crazy angle, helping Albion to pull her
over him and push her towards a low person-long rectangular opening.
        "Rachael, you must get under the bed!"  For once, the ship's
movements helped, sending her scrambling in the right direction.  She
wiggled under the bed and felt Albion wedge himself in after her.  The
ship's violent maneuvers held less force here, only squashing her against
the bottom of the bed, the floor, Albion and...  It was then that Rachael
realized that there was another occupant in the small space.  Rachael found
herself face to nose with a muzzle full of twitching black whiskers topped
by two beady black eyes and small roundish ears.
        "Albion, there's a big rat in here..."  Her voice came out as a
small squeak, hardly audible to her own ears.
        (Not rat!  Roben!)  It was a small, disgusted sounding voice,
hardly more than a whisper which seemed to be inside her head.  (And I was
here first, so stop squashing me or get back out!)  The Roben bared its
teeth at her and she pressed herself into Albion.
        "Albion, there's a big rat in here!"  This time she managed to get
some volume.  A sudden swerve pressed the large furry form against her.
        "Albion!!!"  She got quite a bit more volume.
        "I know, Rachael, I know."  Albion's voice was low and soothing in
her ear.  "It was he who suggested our refuge."
        Rachael swallowed and worked on anchoring herself a little more
securely to give the rat some room.
        (Roben, you human ingrate!)  The little voice snapped.  (If it
wasn't for me, you and your friend would still be out there being beaten
into pulp!)
        Rachael's rattled brain finally connected the little voice and the
rat-Roben she thought frantically-together.
        The ship came to a sudden, violent stop, sending Rachael's head
crashing into the base of the bedframe with enough force to start little
sparks flashing before her eyes.  She lay in the sudden silence of the ship
trying to blink away sparks and tears.  She heard the little voice again,
but it was distant, as if not directed at her.
        (Someone should revoke your license!)  A part of her mind
registered Albion vacating his portion of the cramped space.  She managed
to get rid of the tears, but the sparks obstinately remained.
        (Max?  You're not making any sense!)  The little voice sounded
worried.  A wave of cold air washed over her face and she knew that somehow
the rat/Roben was gone too.
        A shudder ran through the ship, turned into a vibration which
conducted itself through the floor into Rachael's body, into her bones,
into the sparks which still danced behind her eyelids, into her teeth.
Rachael started to wiggle out from under the bed-anything to put some
distance between her body and that vibration-when her way was blocked by
Albion.
        "Rachael Shaw, stay there."
        "Why?  What is it?"  She just knew that her teeth were starting to
come loose.
        "Tractor beam.  Stay put.  Get as far against the wall as possible."
        Rachael opened her mouth, ran through her catalogue of obscenities,
then closed it when she discovered she didn't possess one of sufficient
nastiness to explain her reaction to Albion's suggestion.  She settled for
a glare and wiggled farther out.  Albion's graceful long-fingered hands
stopped her progress.
        "Rachael, please!  You may castigate me thoroughly when we are out
of this!  Please.  Get back under the bed."  His voice and face were full
of concern; concern, she realized, that was all for her.  Rachael relented
and retreated, still glaring.
        She huddled against the wall gritting her teeth while the ship
screamed around her and a yelp escaped from her as a new sensation joined
the bone-jarring vibration.  Now her whole body tingled-the same tingle
that proceeds the 'pins and needles' syndrome as a sleeping limb suddenly
receives a large supply of blood-then the tingle turned into waves of
mind-numbing pain.
        Albion was yelling something in the background as she passed out,
her last coherent thought being of six foot tall, invisible talking
rabbits.

*                                       *
*

        Rachael was having a very strange dream full of flashing,
multi-colored lights and a seemingly endless supply of very articulated,
humanoid robots, two of which were supporting her, very uncomfortably, with
vice-like grips under each arm as they dragged her through a huge,
seemingly endless metal cave.  There were two more robots in from her,
dragging another figure with long blond hair.  Albion, her dreaming brain
supplied.  Nice buns.  Her dream fuzzed out for a while, then snapped back
into focus as her forward momentum suddenly ceased.
        They hand stopped in full view of an interesting tableau of two men
facing each other, one sagging between two more of the white forms, the
other standing free.  The two were mirror images and yet also the exact
opposite of each other.
        The one being held looked... well, rumpled was the only word that
Rachael could find that even came close.  From scuffed boots to creased
black pants and a shirt that once might have been white-and had definitely
been slept in-to dark, unruly curls above a full beard.  There was a nasty
looking gash above his left eyebrow and the matching eye had already
swollen shut.  It was a good face, Rachael decided, full of the lines of a
life that had been lived hard and enjoyed hard.
        The one who stood free was immaculate in unrelieved black, the dark
hair groomed into soft waves and the beard trimmed into a Van Dyke, giving
his face a demonic cast that was completed by the eyes.  Rachael wasn't
sure what it was about them that made her uneasy, but uneasy they left her
and cold and empty feeling.  The thought of having to bear the full force
of that gaze raised the hairs on her arms.  He reminded her of the black
panther she had seen at the San Diego Zoo who had a tendency to kill
keepers who trustingly turned their back to it-beautiful, serene, powerful
and very, very deadly.
        The one who stood free reached out to his twin and touched the
damaged side of his face with a tenderness that was somehow terrifying from
this man with the cold, compelling eyes.  Then he smiled a small smile that
made Rachael shudder and said,
        "Ah, Maximillian, my brother, you are most welcome here."



Mirror, Mirror
(D)

        Max lifted his head sideways to avoid the light-fingered caress and
the man in black lowered his hand obligingly.
        "Is this any way to repay my hospitality, dear brother?" he asked.
        His answer was a glob of spittle which struck him wetly on the
right cheek.  Rachael cringed, more from the horror of expectation than
from the reality of the act itself.  But the man in black never even
flinched.  The half smile never left his face, even when a horrified aide
rushed forward to wipe the mess away.  The aide returned to his position of
obscurity, but Rachael's eyes never left the dark man's face.
        "As eloquent as ever, Maximillian.  Shall we get down to business,
then?"  The smile vanished.  "I charge you, brother, with the unspeakable
crime of treason against the state and her peoples.  In my official
capacity as agent for his exalted majesty, the Emperor, I therefore arrest
you for the aforementioned crime and all others committed..."
        Rachael was stunned by the swiftness of the man in black.  She had
been staring intently at his face, hanging on his every word.  Because of
that, she couldn't understand how she could have missed his movements.  And
yet, there was no denying the fact that his left hand was wrapped tightly
around the throat of his prisoner.  Max gasped for air, as surprised by the
attack as Rachael had been.
        The dark man's eyes narrowed to slits and his voice dropped to a
well-oiled growl.  "I let the first offense go unpunished.  In that, I feel
I was more than generous.  But if you insist on becoming tiresome with your
protests, I will see to it that every drop of moisture in your body becomes
so precious to you that such displays will seem not only a waste, but a
luxury as well.  Am I understood?"  The grip tightened and the other man
gurgled in pain.  His face began to purple and his knees to buckle.  "Am I
understood, Maximillian?"
        A moment's hesitation, then a jerky nod.  The powerful hand dropped
away.  The other man slumped forward gasping in large lungfuls of air.
        "Now, to continue," the dark lord said conversationally.  "I arrest
you for the aforementioned crime and all others committed within the
confines of the State."  Stepping back her raised his hand in a dismissive
gesture.  "Confine and monitor him."
        The robots saluted and turned to lead Max out.
        "And see to it that he is bathed.  Furnish him with new clothing
and burn those he has on."
        "No!" Max gasped.  The robots stopped.
        "Ah.  It seems we have finally struck a nerve.  The beast has found
its tongue at last."
        "You son-of-a-bitch!"
        A long pause.  A slow smile.  "Yes.  How can I refute it.  You knew
her as well as I."
        New life flared up in the eyes of the prisoner as he struggled to
free himself from the crushing grip of his robotic guards.
        The man in black assumed a look of abject boredom.  "Take him.  Do
as I have instructed.  If he insists on being difficult, sedate him."
        The robots gave a smart salute and dragged the other man from the ro=
om.
        Rachael found herself staring at the back of the black cloaked
figure and wondering when George Lucas would yell "cut!" and all her little
pains would subside into make-believe.  This wasn't reality, after all.  It
couldn't be.  Her mind was having a very hard time accepting the events of
the past few hours and, most especially now, her present surroundings.  It
wasn't every day that she was dragged into a huge metal hanger filled with
hardware and spaceships of every type and description by two metallic
rejects from the Twilight Zone and forced to watch as an early version of
Darth Vader make a power play at the expense of his own brother.  It
occurred to her that she had become the victim of a clich=E9
        As if on cue, the man in black turned to focus his attention on
her.  Icy blue eyes scanned first her face, then Albion's.  She felt naked
and vulnerable under that gaze.  The eyes narrowed and shifted back to her.
Her throat began to constrict.
        "I do not recognize either of you."
        Her heart began to hammer in her chest.  The man approached with
measured strides, his eyes never leaving hers.
        "My men tell me that they found you and your companion locked in a
storeroom."  A pause.  A narrowing of the eyes once again.  "They seem to
feel that you may have been prisoners aboard my brother's vessel."  His
eyes dropped to slowly take in her damp, smelly t-shirt, blue jeans and
sneakers, then snapped back to pierce her with a compelling intensity she
found hard to resist. Her will fell flat and she knew she would tell him
anything he wanted to know.  she would tell him everything, just so long as
he didn't hurt her as she knew he could-as those eyes promised he would.
        "Who are you?" he asked in a slow, deliberate manner.  "And what is
your connection with Maximillian and his rebellious friends?"
        "Her name is unimportant, my Lord, as is my own."
        Both Rachael and her inquisitor turned to look at Albion.  He had
been so quiet for so long she had begun to wonder if he might be dead.  But
he was awake and alert, golden eyes sparkling beneath the filmy veil of
hair which hung before them.  The dark man drew himself up with interest,
stroking his pointed beard slowly.
        "Indeed."
        "What matters only," Albion continued.  "Is that my companion and I
were indeed being held against our will aboard the vessel and, in that
respect, were prisoners."
        "Interesting.  You have skillfully evaded my questions and deepened
the mystery.  Pray, continue."
        It is not my intention to evade you, my Lord.  I only wish to make
clear the fact that we were in no way involved with the man you refer to as
your brother, nor with any of his compatriots, nor their cause, whatever it
may be.
        "Rather, we are merely travelers who stumbled into a situation we
knew nothing of.  We humbly apologize and, though we are in no position to
do so, beg your mercy and, if you are so inclined, asylum as well.  We are,
my dread lord, in your matchless service and subject to your disposal."
        The dark man regarded Albion thoughtfully for what seemed an
infernally long time to Rachael.  Was he just going to stand there staring
at them until one of them broke?  What Albion had said was the truth.  All
of it.  What more did the man want?  There wasn't anything else to tell,
was there?  It occurred to her form the umpteenth time that she didn't
really know anything at all about Albion, if that was his real name.  Was
it possible that he was somehow involved in this mess without her
knowledge.  The dread answer came to her almost as soon as she thought it.
Yes, it was entirely possible.  Anything was possible in a reality gone
mad.  Her arms had long since gone numb under the crushing grip of her two
unmoving metallic guards and she felt that if something didn't happen soon,
if somebody didn't speak to break the silence, she was going to scream."
        "Bravo."
        She flinched at the way the word was delivered.
        "Eloquently said."
        "Thank you, my Lord."
        "And as boldly stated as its speaker.  You claim to be humble and
in my service, but I wonder..."  A long pause while cold eyes again
searched the faces of first Albion, then Rachael.  "And it is that very
wonder which will grant you part of your wish.  I have always humored my
curiosity.  But it is a fragile thing.  Beware you do not become tiresome
in your mystery."
        The dark man turned with a dramatic swirl of his expansive black
cloak and waving dismissively, began to stride from the room.  Albion's
voice interrupted his exit.
        "My Lord, you said you would grant only part of our wish.  May I be
so bold as to inquire..."
        "Which part?"  The dark lord stopped in the doorway and turned his
head to answer over his shoulder.  "We all have our little secrets, my
friend.  They are what make the game most intriguing."  He turned suddenly
to address his servants.  "See to it that my guests are prepared.  I
wouldn't want any harm to befall them before they are granted a proper
audience and we can get to the center of this little labyrinthine puzzle.
At least, not without my knowledge."
        With a cruel half-smile and another swirl of his cloak, he was gone.
        Rachael found herself shuddering and wondering if it was from
relief or the tone in the dark lord's voice.  Or maybe it was because of
that tiny smile which she was sure had been aimed at her...