Copyright
1999, Lyta. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be re-posted in part
or in full without written permission from me.
Disclaimer:
Gene Roddenberry’s Earth: Final Conflict is copyright 1998, Tribune
Entertainment Co. Its characters are used without permission. No infringement
is intended.
Rating:
PG
Title:
Soulful Eyes
Author:
Lyta
Lyta_1028@yahoo.com
Spoilers
for “Subterfuge”
Summary:
A covert operative’s thoughts and regrets as she slips into the role of Hannah
Klein.
“Soulful Eyes”
Hannah Elizabeth Klein.
She stood in front of the full length
mirror next to the bed and stared critically at her reflection, comparing the
woman she saw before her with her files on Hannah Klein. While she would never
be able to fool anyone who knew the real Hannah, that was not her objective.
Klein had but recently become famous in art circles, it had taken time for her
medium to be accepted as true art, and her reputation for leading a quiet life
meant few knew what she looked like. The handful of existing photos in
circulation were suitably distant and vague to her purposes. Her hair, dyed so
many times over the year that she could not be sure of its natural color, was
now a warm brown and cut short. Her eyes were altered by colored contact lenses
and stared back at her in a way that failed to convey the soulful gaze of an
artist. The eyes are the mirrors of the soul, and hers reflected a woman
haunted by her own choices.
She sighed, it was a familiar problem and
one not noticed by most people, and their expression was one of the few things
she could not alter. She sighed and recalled the bio on Hannah Klein that had
been in the files along with her assignment. In preparation for this assignment
she had studied every published article, all of her work, even her critical
reviews for insights that would allow her to be more convincing in the role she
was about to play. Reality was more convincing than even the most careful
facade which could crack at an inopportune moment.
Likewise she had studied Major Liam
Kincaid, her assignment. Sandoval had provided her with everything he had on
the man, including the results of the battery of physical and psychological
tests he had been subjected to when he first became Da’an’s protector. She
found much that was useful, but little on his personal life, assuming he had
one. Even with incomplete analysis on the Major, she had chosen the foundations
of the persona she would wear like a glove until this assignment was complete.
The woman smiled, her expression she
seemingly genuine that it startled her for a moment.
Unbidden, the image of Liam Kincaid
slipped into her mind and she closed her eyes. He was handsome, tall with
soulful green eyes and a ready smile. She was an expert at interpreting body
language, and despite Sandoval’s staunch conviction that the Major had
Resistance leanings, the woman who now answered to the name Hannah Klein was
inclined to disagree. His every gesture, and more importantly his actions, told
her of his deep commitment to being Da’an’s protector, a commitment that was
blatantly obvious to her trained eye. He had saved the lives of Da’an, Zo’or
and Sandoval, which seemed odd in the extreme if he really was involved with
the Resistance.
That Major Kincaid was an honorable man
was likewise readily obvious, and she found herself envying him. To serve her
country, she had given up her identity and any real chance of a normal life.
She served her country, their country, in vital ways but ways that left her
haunted by all the necessary evils she committed. Acts that no matter how much
she justified them invaded her dreams in the form of nightmares.
Hannah took a deep breath. While she was
not capable of controlling her emotions while she slept, controlling them while
she was conscious was something she had as much down to an art as the real
Hannah had fractal sculpture. Yes, she did unpleasant things but she did them
so that others would not have to walk the same lonely and paranoid road.
Focus
on the assignment, the voice of one of her many instructors whispered from
her memories. Liam Kincaid’s face again flashed to mind and Hannah continued
her catalog of him. Kincaid would not respond to a simple seduction, that much
was apparent. Hannah sighed in frustration; Sandoval demanded fast results, but
Liam was going to take more cultivation than the majority of her other
assignments before he yielded his secrets.
Liam. Hannah smiled, this time genuinely;
she had already begun to think of him in a familiar way. Good, it would make
her interaction with him flow better and she’d need her every edge sharp on
this one.
In a way Hannah regretted that this would
not be a simple seduction, but she somehow knew that she’d wind up caring about
him. It had happened before, a hazard of the job, and while painful she had
never allowed her emotions to interfere with what must be done.
A look at the clock on the bedside table
revealed that she had just over an hour before she was to meet Da’an…and his
protector. A touch of make-up, just enough to enhance her features without
destroying the image of an artist ill at ease with the sudden attention. Liam
was the kind of man who would respond to that vulnerability all the while
admiring and respecting her strength. She set the brush down and considered the
overall effect.
Perfect. She looked every inch the part.
She reached for the perfume bottle and sprayed a light mist of gardenia. Few
were aware just how deeply smell was imbedded in psychology. There was
something about floral scents, perhaps their reminder of nature, which seemed
perfect for the Hannah persona. Rose was too obvious, freesia was all wrong but
gardenia was bright and refreshing without being too sweet.
Hannah sought out her shoes. She picked up
her equipment and walked out the door and walked to the subway. She leaned back
into her seat, tuning out the odor of cigarette smoke that still lingered
despite that smoking had been banned in the cars for years, and watched the
dark gray walls of the tunnels zip by.
“Long day?” A man in a business suit next
to her asked conversationally.
“My day is just beginning.” Hannah said,
her accent unremarkable and generic American without any trace of her original
speech patterns. It had taken a while to purge her accent, but it had paid off
and she had since learned how to sound as though she was a born and bred local
from just about anywhere.
The man smiled in understanding before he
rose to get off at the next stop leaving Hannah to her thoughts.
Soon, soon the game would begin. Not for
the first time, Hannah found herself wishing she did not have to be the one who
would hurt the man who was her assignment, the one whose secrets she was being
sent to ferret out. She closed her eyes and banished the feelings, for now. In
her mind’s eye she saw Liam Kincaid’s soulful green eyes and prayed to the God
whose existence she too often denied to give her strength.