<strong>Name/Rank:</strong>LtCmdr Torstein Harms<br/><strong>Location:</strong><em>U.S.S. Bellicose</em>, docked at Deep Space Nine<br/><strong>Activity:</strong>An old friend comes to visit<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/>Torstein was on his back and staring up into a power relay that was in even worse shape than an initial diagnostic suggested. There was really nothing for it but to take the whole thing out. Certainly it could be repaired to some degree, and if they were out in space they surely would have out of necessity. But as they were docked there was no reason for it not to get done. The way the crew pushed the ship meant that it would be a complete necessity at their next return to port. The hard wear and tear that they put the ship through meant that anything less than a total replacement risked having the relay burn out during combat, and that was not acceptable. The<em>Bellicose</em>was a working ship. Every member of the crew as a fighter. The captain had been very particular about that point when making her crew selections.<br/><br/>The large man put aside his tricorder and reached for a spanner. The relay was shut off already, so he could begin to take it out, bit by bit, so it could be replace. He worked in silence. There was no one else present, and no one else scheduled to be present. It suited him just as well. Sometimes it was nice to have the solitude and the quiet. The close quarters of the ship meant that Torstein shared quarters with several other crew members - only the captain had private quarters and even those doubled as a ready room. It made Deep Space Nine seem all the more crowded and loud. And after that Torstein was just fine with a break from it. In the main, though, he enjoyed the<em>Bellicose</em>and how tightly-knit the crew was. There was a genuine camaraderie amongst them and Torstein knew every single crew member had his back and would go to the mat for him. He trusted every one of them with his life, and he earned that same trust in turn.<br/><br/>Very different from home.<br/><br/>There were times that Torstein thought it was making him soft. Dulled his edge. But when he felt the skin on the back of his neck crawl, he knew he had not entirely gone native. He continued to work as if nothing was amiss, but he switched out the spanner for a tool with more heft although it was totally unsuited to what he was currently engaged in. He rolled and came to his feet just in time to avoid a phaser blast aimed at his previous position. Torstein hurled the tool at his assailant, who gave a grunt of pain. Torstein was on the other in moments, deftly disarming them of the phaser and pinning them against the wall. Torstein pressed the other's face against the unyielding material, and wrenched the other's arm behind their back into a stress position that gave him several options for breaks if he felt so inclined.<br/><br/>There was a strained chuckle from the other. To any outward observation, that one was a human. A perfectly average human male - six feet tall, fit build consistent with Starfleet physical fitness guidelines, brown hair, brown eyes, a blend of Asian and Caucasian features. Standard scans would bear out the unaided outward observation. One would need to go deeper to find out where this male deviated. Like Torstein, this male was not a human, but a Terran. A native to the twisted Mirror Universe.<br/><br/>"Just a test." The male hissed, unable to force himself free and unwilling to try. "Marshall Janeway sends her regards. Wanted to know if you'd gone soft." There was, despite being at Torstein's mercy, a touch of arrogance to the Terran's words. A challenge, despite the weaker position. Casual defiance. Torstein released the Terran roughly. The Terran gave another chuckle.<br/><br/>"You're risking things by meeting me here like this." Torstein said tersely. "The scheduled contact is in four days."<br/><br/>The Terran shook his head. "Things are changing. I need to be somewhere else by then. Someone else has plans for this universe. Plans that conflict with Janeway's." The Terran handed over two isolinear optical chips and a isolinear rod to Torstein, who looked at them with a dour expression. "The chips are from a ship from our side but the other team. The rod's from some of this side's Cardassians. The ones arming all of rabble you've been chasing down. Must be poor sport." There was a smug sneer, and Torstein could only snort in agreement. The most bloodthirsty, violent pirate of this universe was nothing to what the Mirror Universe created.<br/><br/>"You never get used to waking up without blood on your hands." Torstein lamented. "I go<em>days</em>without killing someone." The other Terran could only grimly commiserate. Torstein opened his uniform top and withdrew an isolinear optical chip of his own. He handed it over. "Since you cannot make the meeting. Here are my reports." The huge Terran said as the other Terran took it and nodded. Despite defecting, Torstein maintained the illusion that he was working for Mirror Janeway. At least, he told himself it was maintaining an illusion. The true test would come when Marshall Janeway's schemes came to full fruition and he received the command to act. Then it would be seen if he truly had conflicting loyalties or if his service to the Starfleet of the so-called Prime Universe was just a front. A game to occupy his time and indulge his xenophilic tendencies.<br/><br/>Torstein turned his head. "You need to go." The Terran nodded, and stepped back and out of sight. A personal cloaking device hid the Terran and allowed egress. Torstein hid the chips and rod within his uniform and sealed it again.<br/><br/>"Lieutenant Commander!" A voice called out. It belonged a youthful female Aenar.<br/><br/>"Over here, Ensign." Torstein called back. He smiled even though she was physically blind. Already his mind was schooled to defend against telepathy, although Federation and Starfleet ethics made casual mind-reading a transgression. It sometimes happened, particularly when there was a close bond, as was shared among the crew of the<em>Bellicose</em>. And Torstein was, admittedly, fond of the female Ensign. She smiled in kind and brushed a strand of her hair behind an ear as she approached, sensing that fondness as Torstein brought it to the fore of his mind to disguise any other surface thoughts.