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.