Disclaimer
I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun. Please don't sue me.
Author's Note:
Welcome readers old and new to The Adventures of Augment Gothic! This story represents a continuation of "Augment Gothic" a story I started and co-wrote with GothicJedi666 back in 2016 that ran 40 chapters, which is still up on his profile. Unfortunately, his desire to continue the story ran its full course, but he graciously agreed to let me carry the baton on my own for however long my muse lasts.I want to thank him once again for years of amazing storytelling and collaboration. I only hope I can continue to do this story justice on my own.
Now, with that out of the way, I will be revising and re-posting all 40 chapters of the original story. These will mostly be revisions and improvements as I've evolved and improved as a writer over the years. So, to my new readers, if you're truly impatient for more, feel free to go over there and read, but I think you'll get more out of this journey if you read here. Hopefully our faithful and loyal readers will go on that journey with us again and re-read the story. As for you new readers, welcome! It's going to be an amazing journey.
Quick Warning:
I don't consider my SI to be overpowered (OP) given the level and number of threats in the Star Trek Universe, but many might. There will also be a shit ton of swearing, unrepentant violence, and a whole lot of sexual themes. So if an OP main character, swearing, violence and sex is not something you like or can handle in fanfiction, probably best to move on. If that's not your cup of tea, that's totally fine. I won't be offended. Slash fiction is not something I personally enjoy, for example, but I don't begrudge anyone what they like to read, so when I see that warning, I simply move along quietly or don't click on it in the first place. So, you've been warned.
The Adventures of Augment Gothic
Chapter 1
Sickbay. U.S.S. Enterprise.
My mind felt fuzzy, and I struggled to get my bearings. In fact, my body felt pain in a way that it hadn't ever before, it wasn't 'hurt' like I knew it, it was too dulled, like the distant half remembered memory of pain, only that wasn't quite what it was. Thankfully this aching echo was already starting to fade away.
"He's waking up," a woman's soft voice called out, but the voice was incredibly strange. It sounded far richer and more nuanced than I had ever heard before. If I had to describe it, it was like you had listened to your favorite song on a pair of cheap drug store headphones all your life and then suddenly you listened to that same song on a pair of extremely high-end noise canceling, studio headphones. Suddenly you were hearing things and nuances in your favorite song that you never even knew were there!
I struggled to open my eyes as the dull pain now completely vanished. I tried to move, but my muscles just wouldn't obey the orders my brain was giving. However, like the pain, my body's temporary paralysis soon ended and my body started to move the way I wished it to. Thankfully, whatever was wrong with me didn't appear to be permanent.
"Where am I?" I asked. Who said that?!Was that my voice?!Again, why did a voice sound like it was coming from concert grade speakers?!
My vision was still a bit blurry so I had to wait for it to clear up before I could see what was going on around me. As my vision improved it went way beyond what I remembered as normal. It was clarity like I had never experienced before. Just like with the sounds in the room, suddenly the world seemed brighter, colors richer and more vibrant. Focusing on any one spot felt like someone had put high grade binoculars over my eyes and auto adjusted the focus near instantly. I was seeing subtle color gradations in the carpet and a woman's shed hair lying on the ground 30 feet away. Shadowed corners and an unlit office that I was certain was too dark and far away to see into were lit up to my eyes like someone had shone a spotlight.
What the fuck was happening to me?!
As my awareness of the people in the room returned, I realized a man and a woman were standing over me. They both wore ridiculous looking full body, skin tight jumpsuits, under some sort of lab coat. Yet as silly as it seemed, there was something oddly familiar about the woman. I just couldn't remember why.
More people were speaking now, but I was unable to make it out as my ears seemed to be far more interested in their subvocal harmonics, or the way the room infinitesimally echoed, or the different electronic hums of the various bits of technology in the room. There was definitely something wrong with my hearing, or so different as to feel wrong. It was as if all my senses couldn't stay in focus for very long, or were focusing on all the wrong things, instead of the person actually speaking to me. Yet I knew this clarity and range was so much greater than it should have been. The lights were too bright, my eyes stinging from the intensity, and the sounds were simply overwhelming.
Was I on a boat? The room felt like it was subtly moving in a way I had never felt before.
That was when the man in front of me reached towards my neck and I saw that he had some sort of device in his hand. It didn't take a genius, or my new enhanced senses, to figure out that he was going to inject me with something. Since I didn't want that to happen my hand reached out faster than a snake striking and I grabbed the man's wrist, then with surprising strength I forced the limb away from me. The man in the lab coat screamed as I felt bones breaking beneath the skin from the sheer strength of my new grip. Why did his bones break so easily?! I didn't mean to do that!
Now my heart was beating like crazy, adrenaline flowing, and I still had no idea where the fuck I was. All I knew was that I had to escape from here because these doctors were obviously doing something to me. Had they changed me? Had they experimented on me? With those frightening thoughts in mind I got up off the strange bed in one fast flowing movement, as if the rest of them were moving in slow motion, the people in the silly jumpsuits and lab coats all backing slowly away from me. They were speaking again! I couldn't understand them!
Now I had an intense ringing in my ears. Only it wasn't a ringing noise, it was more like everything I was hearing had all become one loud, senseless din.
At this point I truly panicked and the only thought in my mind was escape. I headed for what looked like a door, but found no handle or switch. That proved unnecessary as the door opened automatically as I approached, so I was able to race out into the empty weirdly designed corridor. Things were still a little too bright here as well, but thankfully the noise was far more bearable now that no one was talking. This meant that I could finally hear the beating of my own heart and my frantic breathing, which I tried to steady with great effort.
"rIQ SoH!" Someone yelled, my ears now ringing again from the volume.
I looked towards the source of the voice to see three honest-to-God Klingon cosplayers, which gave me pause at the sheer absurdity of the sight. Was I being experimented on by scientists or at a comic-con? They were wearing what looked like authentic armor and weapons from the shows, but they weren't holding their swords and guns at the moment, though, somehow, they looked ready to instantly make use of them. They must be quite passionate about their in-costume acting.
"No way," I whispered, as my vision allowed me to see that these guys were not wearing any face prosthetics, nor were the materials they were wearing the cheap imitation stuff you'd see in costumes. The level of detail was just too extreme. But that couldn't possibly be right.
Either I had gone totally crazy or I'd been abducted by some really, really, really hardcore cosplayers who had cut no corners and spent a shit ton on their gear…and plastic surgery? A less likely explanation was that I'd somehow been brought onboard the U.S.S Enterprise, straight out of Star Trek the Next Generation for the amusement of some Random Omnipotent Being. Full disclosure, I had a small nerdgasm at the thought. I was a big fan of all the Star Trek television series, well mostly. I had never quite gotten into the Original a child of the 80s TNG was my introduction to the universe.
"ghob'e' bImatlhba' jISaHchugh," another said.
I had no idea what the hell they were saying. While I was, admittedly, a big fan of Star Trek, I was not so big a fan that I had taken the time to learn a made-up fictional language like some did. Not that it really mattered, if these were real Klingons, then they most likely wanted to fight. If they were just guys in makeup, yeah, then I still didn't want them anywhere near me.
"maHvaD ghu'vam SoH QaH," the third said.
One of the real(?) Klingons stepped forward and out of shock or surprise or terror at the implications that this was all real, I punched the alien right in his face! It was hard to tell who had been hurt more by the punch given the dude's hard cranial ridges, so I decided then and there not to hit any more of them in the face barehanded. With their cranial ridges, these guys had very thick skulls and very sharp teeth.
Kicking the next one in the gut though, well, that worked much better. The next crinkle headed fucker to come near me flew back, bounced off a bulkhead(?) and landed on his stomach after falling hard to the floor.
"Bunch of sissies," I snorted.
The smallest of the three so called warriors came at me far more cautiously than the others, now that I had proven to somehow be much stronger and faster than I looked. He, assuming it was a man under all that make up, or not, I was still struggling with the idea, used some sort of fancy fighting move, not that it mattered as his movements looked painfully slow to me. I just took hold of one his arms that he had tried to strike me with, pulled down hard and his hairy chin met my rising knee. Then I pushed him back with what I thought was only medium strength.
That alien, assuming he actually was one, left the ground like he had been shot from a cannon and hit the wall with the back of its head, before landing hard on the floor. Then the first one, who I had only punched earlier, tried to tackle me. That was a mistake as these guys were not as fast on their feet as me and he just ended up meeting the wall after I sidestepped rather neatly. How was I doing this?!
Now the second cosplayer/alien was picking himself up off the ground, but he didn't get very far as I kicked him in the stomach while he was still on his hands and knees. To my amazement he didn't just collapse to the ground. My move actually lifted him up several feet in the air, and when he landed again he was on his back. How on Earth was I so strong now?!
"ghaHvaD bach!" one of them then shouted, though it didn't seem directed at me.
That I didn't understand either, however I figured it out when I turned to see a couple of gold uniformed Starfleet officers with what looked like phasers from Star Trek. Which turned out to be very real because a second later a crimson ruby beam of energy hit me and the whole universe faded away into nothingness. The beam and its path, while faster than the Klingons, was still discernable to me and was something I probably could have moved out of the way of. I think I was mostly just shocked at the realization that this was seriously all real that I froze up like I did.
(Line Break)
Briefing Room. U.S.S. Enterprise.
"I have spoken to our Klingon passengers," Worf informed everyone once they had taken their seats at the conference table. "They claim that they saw our 'guest' leaving sickbay at a run, looking panicked, and were attempting to return him to Doctor Crusher's care only for him to attack them mercilessly. They were unprepared for such a savage and powerful foe."
"How was he able to defeat three Klingon warriors?" Deanna Troi asked the room, sounding confused. Most people who had just woken up from centuries spent in cryostasis were hardly in a condition to fight, so her confusion was perfectly understandable.
"I know that humans from the 20th and 21st century were more used to violence then we are, but he had only just woken up from spending centuries in stasis. He shouldn't have been able to get up from his biobed, much less start and win a fight with three Klingons," Troi continued.
Given that baseline Klingons were both stronger and far more durable than human beings, it seemed unlikely that any human could defeat three of them. Granted, humans had beaten Klingon warriors in battle, but three-to-one, unarmed, were very heavy odds to overcome. Even more so for someone who had just stumbled out of sickbay. Then there was the fact that this man had broken the wrist of one of the doctors moments after waking up.
"I can answer that, Deanna. He's an Augment," Beverly Crusher informed the senior officers to the shock of them all. "The tests I ran confirm this. Our guest had undergone a rather amazing amount of successful genetic resequencing. Everything has been enhanced, from his body to his mind. What's very strange is that as far as I can tell he was already an adult when the alterations were made, which makes him quite different from the Augments of Khan's era, as they were born as Augments, or in some rare cases, modified as very young children after careful selective breeding."
That was indeed strange, but at least it explained how this centuries old human could have defeated three Klingon warriors.
"Do we have his DNA on file?" Captain Picard asked the room. "Or any other way to confirm his identity?"
Data shook his head.
"No, sir. I took the liberty of checking the records that remain from that era," the android answered. "However, the nuclear strikes during World War Three destroyed many of the records from that time. As such we have no way of ascertaining his identity, or confirming that he was even on Earth during the Eugenics Wars. Given Doctor Crusher's unusual findings with regards to the genetic engineering he's had, it is entirely possible that he is the result of later experimentation or more advanced genetic engineering, possibly by a more advanced alien race."
Without proof that their 'guest' was one of the augment tyrants who had been involved in the Eugenics Wars, Picard wasn't willing to confine the man to the brig. Augments could be extremely dangerous, as this one had handily proven already, but his actions could be put down to extreme disorientation rather than any sort of malice, after all he'd been 'asleep' for more than three hundred years and then had woken in a completely unknown and alien environment. That was more than enough justification for someone to react with violence; their 'guest' may have truly believed that he was in peril. That could not be held against him, augment or not.
"Dr. Crusher, is he ready to be released from sickbay?" Captain Picard asked Doctor Crusher.
While the captain wasn't willing to lock someone up for being genetically enhanced/engineered, he wasn't comfortable in letting an augment roam the ship freely either, especially with so many unknowns still unresolved.
"Yes, Captain, he is already fully recovered. His rate of recovery is simply miraculous. I'd say that it was impossible for a human to have recovered so quickly from 300 years in cryostasis if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but a full Augment's enhanced physiology is a very poorly understood thing. I would study it further, if he let me, but I'd still prefer to get him out of sickbay as soon as possible," Beverly answered honestly. "My staff are all afraid of him."
Which was worrying, but not surprising given the circumstances.
"What should we do?" Riker asked his superior.
Picard gave it some thought.
"Confine him to quarters for now," the Captain decided. "And keep a guard on his door at all times. If he's anything like Khan then he will make a move to take over the ship, so we must be prepared. If he is different, then I hope he will cooperate once he has had time to adjust to our time and we can take things from there. Perhaps if we can build some sort of trust between us he will simply tell us what we wish to know."
At this point Riker had something to add.
"There are historical accounts that state that Khan-era augments can have up to five times normal human strength and speed," the second in command related. "If that's true then our normal security personnel might not be up to the job of securing him."
Given what the man had done to Klingon warriors moments after waking up from centuries of stasis, Riker was probably right to be concerned.
"Assign Vulcans to the security detail," Captain Picard ordered his Security Chief. "I want at least two outside his door at all times, and they are to have two more security personnel with them nearby. Ensure force fields on that deck are ready to be activated at a moment's notice to contain him if necessary."
Vulcans were three times stronger than baseline humans on average. While they wouldn't be a match for a Khan-era Augment, they might be strong enough to slow him down long enough for someone else to stun him with a phaser, or for the force fields to trap him. Their guest could be stunned, that much was known by recent events, but now that he had had time to recover from stasis, at least physically, a single officer with a phaser might not be enough.
"Commander Data, I'd like you to escort our 'guest' to his quarters," Picard ordered. "Should he react badly while being moved from sickbay you should be able to restrain him without causing any harm. Answer any of his questions, within reason, try to build a relationship with the man if you can."
The android was much stronger and faster than any other member of the crew, even Worf, so it was a logical choice.
"I think it would be best for me to speak with him as soon as possible," Deanna Troi advised her commanding officer. "He might not be talking yet, but I should still be able to sense his emotions, so I might be able to learn something about him."
Putting her in harm's way wasn't something the Captain was happy about; however, it did make sense as Troi was specifically trained to get people to open up and talk with her. Her empathic abilities would be invaluable in getting a measure of this man, which, right now, was what they really needed.
"I agree, Counselor. Proceed with utmost caution," Picard advised. "Now let's move on to other matters."
While the crew of the Enterprise got the most interesting missions in the fleet, the flagship was still part of Starfleet, which meant that they ended up doing plenty of routine mission types, just like every other ship. There were also always other onboard issues to deal with, especially on a ship carrying over a thousand souls, so the meeting carried on like normal.
(Line Break)
Guest Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.
"These will be your quarters while onboard," Data said as we entered the room that would be my home for the foreseeable future. "If they are not to your liking then alternative accommodations can be found," he offered, misinterpreting my awe at such nice quarters being given to me.
Either these were the VIP quarters meant for visiting ambassadors or the standard of living had greatly improved since the 21st century. However, I didn't dwell on that for long as that was when I noticed the windows and the startling view of space that they offered.
"Wow, I really am in space," I muttered.
And since we weren't orbiting the Earth that meant I was further out into the universe than anyone from my world and time had ever been.
"Were you not told this earlier?" Data asked me, in a confused tone.
I'd not been, not really, but I had figured it out. It was just that knowing it and seeing it were two very different things.
"In fact, you were discovered in space," I was told. "By a Kivas Fajo. He was a Zibalian trader."
In addition to all my senses being super charged, I seemed to be thinking very fast and cleverly these days as well. I picked up on the implications of the word 'was' instantly.
"What happened to him?" I asked.
The name sounded very familiar, like it was just buried deep in my memory, and while my brain seemed to be working noticeably better than it ever had before I hadn't suddenly become all knowing. It was an incredibly strange feeling, to be honest. My thoughts felt faster, I could remember everything that had happened to me since I had woken up on the Enterprise in exquisite detail, ideas constantly coming to me now, connections made and analyzed, which I guess meant that I was more creative and intuitive now. But memories from my past, before waking up in this time and place, lacked that clarity.
"You killed him," Data informed me without emotion or accusation. It was very matter of fact actually.
I'd never killed anyone, at least not as far as I knew. With my memory being so good now, why couldn't I remember that? Maybe it had to do with the after effects of stasis? Or was I not meant to remember those events?
"Are you sure?" I inquired of the robot man. "I don't remember killing anyone."
Being an android meant that there was no judgement at all in his tone.
"Short term memory loss is a very common side effect of long-term cryostasis, especially with the available technology of your time," Data told me, "and I know for certain that you did kill Kivas Fajo. I saw you fire the disruptor."
Oddly, that didn't bother me at all.
"Am I in any sort of legal trouble for that?" I asked.
Data shook his head.
"Given the effects of your time in stasis and the fact that you were being held against your will in an alien environment, the captain has ruled that it was an act of self-defense," the robot guy answered me. "Even if that were not the case you only killed Kivas Fajo because he was about to destroy me and he had already killed another person before your eyes. The threat to both you and I was very real."
That was a weight off my shoulders. I didn't care about some alien trader, but I didn't want to spend years in some Federation prison for something I didn't even remember. There was a wide-open galaxy full of adventure out there just waiting for me and my new mind was getting rather excited thinking about the many possibilities and opportunities my future knowledge presented. I could live out the dreams of millions of Star Trek fans.
"Okay, so you better show me what's what in this place," I said.
Data moved towards a door and gestured.
"This is the bathroom," he informed me, "and there is a bedroom through this other door."
Hopefully operating a toilet hadn't changed all that much in three hundred and something odd years, otherwise I might end up humiliating myself. Thankfully, physiology influenced design and function and the basics of the human body hadn't really changed in 300 years.
"This is the replicator," Data then said, pointing to an open cavity along one wall.
Of course I knew exactly what one of those was, all fans of the show did and wished they had one, but since I didn't want anyone else to know how much I knew about this time I feigned total ignorance on the matter.
"What is a replicator?" I needlessly asked.
Data soon gave me an answer.
"In very simple terms, it creates things, by converting energy into matter," I was informed after a brief pause, Data obviously choosing to dumb it down so that I had any hope of understanding his answer. "In quarter replicators are normally used to provide food and clothing only. There are safeguards to prevent the replication of any dangerous materials, weapons or devices."
Well, there were safeguards on this replicator, a replicator on a Starfleet vessel, but if I bought one of my own, there likely wouldn't be any such safeguards. Fans of the shows had long geeked out on how useful replicators were and how horribly underutilized they were in the , no, I wouldn't be able to make weapons, or at least something like a phaser. I imagined that with some effort and creativity on my part I could replicate bits and pieces to assemble some sort of killing tool. However, I also figured that someone on the ship, likely Mr. Worf, would be keeping a very close eye on everything I replicated. A steak knife might be the upper limit of what I could replicate.
"How does it work?" I asked next.
The layout looked very confusing, with seemingly no labeling on the buttons themselves. This actually matched the shows, but most fans just assumed the props department was trying to keep from having to actually create computer displays specific to what was going on in the episode to save money, but here it was. Humans weren't using computers as I knew them any longer, it looked like fancy touch screen tech, and the symbols ultimately meant nothing to me. I suppose you just got used to it and figured it out after a while.
"It uses transporter technology to reconfigure matter on the quantum level-" Data started to explain.
With a gesture I stopped him.
"I mean how do I tell it what I want?" I clarified.
The android was not offended by my interruption. That'd be useful to exploit as I figured out this new time.
"Simply tell it what you want, verbally, as specifically as possible. Unless specified, some defaults selections will be used for ease of ordering, like the size and style of a cup, if a beverage is ordered," Data explained. "Would you care for something to drink?"
I thought about that for a moment.
"Sure, I'll have some tea, earl grey, hot," I ordered with a small smirk. My inner geek was having a laugh at using Picard's standard order from the show!
It seemed appropriate, and the robot man didn't find it odd that I had ordered exactly what the captain drank so often.
"Excellent. Computer," Data said, "one cup of Earl Grey Tea, hot."
As if by magic a steaming cup appeared in the replicator.
"Do you still have TV?" Was my next question. "Or even just a library? I have some catching up to do."
The machine man then directed me to a screen set up on a desk in the room that could be used to display both video and the written word, it could also be used for internal and external communication. It looked kind of like a laptop. Luckily, it could be controlled verbally, because I really did not know how to work it. Until I became a lot more familiar with this time's technology, verbal commands to the computer would be a lifesaver.
"Television, as you knew it, does not strictly exist in this time, though news broadcasts do exist as well as recordings of live artistic performances. You have access to the entire Federation public database and infonet from here," I was told. "The only information off limits to you is that which is protected by our security programs, due to restriction or classification."
While it might be cool to find out how to fire the ship's photon torpedoes, I doubted that I'd even understand the public technical files that would explain their workings due to all the technobabble. Besides, I had a few centuries of history and innovation to catch up on before I got to today's sciences.
"Thank you, Data," I said. "I can take it from here."
Once the android had gone, I decided to strip down and try out the sonic shower from Star Trek fame, which left me feeling pretty clean, but it just didn't give the same sense of freshness that a real shower would have. Still, pretty cool to experience it for myself; the skin tingling was rather pleasant. The only real depiction of it was in an episode of Star Trek Voyager and many fans wondered what it would feel like.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror after my shower was a shocking experience. It was like someone had paid a lot extra for an artist or a photographer with epic Photoshop skills to create an idealized depiction of you that only bore a passing resemblance to reality. Leaning closer to take in the planes of my new face, it was simply surreal. My eyes took in the face in the mirror and saw familiar features. It was definitely my face, but yet not me at the same time. Looking down, was definitely not me. It was the body of a fitness/underwear model, rock hard pecs, jacked arms and biceps, and 8 pack abs, with that distinctive V leading to my pelvis, and sculpted legs that looked as strong and thick as tree trunks. And that was not my penis. It was the penis of a very successful porn star from my time, in length, girth, and shape. Not that any red blooded male would complain about a new and improved penis. I certainly wasn't.
I looked strong and I felt strong. I could even breathe better and my resting heart rate was slow and steady. I guess increased lung capacity and all the damage an unhealthy lifestyle led to was just gone. No wonder I felt so freaking wonderful. Was this how Olympic athletes felt at the apex of their training?
All in all, it was the body of a man blessed at birth with extraordinarily good genes and with a dedicated lifestyle to both achieve and maintain it. I was even five inches taller at 6 foot 4 inches tall now.
According to Dr. Crusher I was now an Augment, and had those perfect genetics in spades. I was what humanity might become in the future, after tens of thousands of years of evolution and a whole lot of luck. My new body wouldn't even require a perfect diet or a regimen of intense daily workouts given the cellular regeneration it exhibited. The few augments featured in the Star Trek series and movies painted an interesting combination of incredible physical abilities and intellect, with a not so healthy dose of megalomania. Pausing a moment, I gave that more thought. I didn't think I had any urges for conquest and an unyielding belief in my superiority over everyone.
Sigh. On the one hand, who wouldn't want a body like this. On the other, was it still me?
No, fuck that kind of thinking, there was nothing to be done about it, and even if I could, would I?Would I really give this up? Nah, this was a blessing. It would allow me to better adjust to this new time and universe, give me a much better chance at survival, and damn if it wouldn't make me a hit with the ladies.
This new life was a gift, and I would live every day like it was my last. I was going to live well, have fun with alien women, and make it look fucking easy. I was going to live a life of adventure.
Sending one final smile at my new reflection, a real one this time, the acceptance of my situation made me feel lighter than air. I went back to the replicators and discovered a problem with them, well, not so much a problem as a pretty big limitation. They could only create objects whose patterns had already been scanned into memory, and this rather limited my choice of clothing. Since there was no way I was putting a unitard jumpsuit back on I looked through the historical records on the room's screen so that I could find something suitable to wear, something that was from 'my time.'
What I discovered was that next to nothing was stored in the computer's memory that would have come into existence between the 1990s and 2016. Which meant that while I was able to blast Nirvana through the speakers, that were hidden somewhere in the room, I just wasn't able to replicate myself any kind of clothing with which I was truly comfortable with.
Thankfully, after some serious effort, I was able to get my hands on some basic boots, socks, boxers, jeans, and a nice polo shirt. They all came in an assortment of colors and that made me feel much better than before, if nothing else I knew at least knew where I could put my hands. Why did these people wear skin tight everything with no freaking pockets?
(Line Break)
Guest Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.
The history of this dimension was fascinating. Sure, fans of the shows had been given some glimpses of an alternate timeline, the different events that shaped the Earth of Star Trek that eventually led to the founding of the Federation, but the details here were complete.
For example, according to the history of this place, in 1968 the United States of America had launched an orbital nuclear weapons platform from 'McKinley Rocket Base.' Following the launch, the platform developed a severe malfunction and began to re-enter the atmosphere in an uncontrolled manner. Attempts to initiate the self-destruct initially failed, but the platform eventually detonated 104 miles above Asia. The result of this was a new and stronger agreement against the use of such weapons by the world's nations.
I was almost certain that this had never happened on my version of Earth, or if it had then the platform had remained hidden and secret from the public for nearly fifty years, which seemed highly unlikely to me. Secrets that big just didn't stay secret for that length of time.
The bigger changes were in the early 1990s, a group of genetically engineered super men called augments, rose to power and pretty much took over most of the world before turning on each other and causing a massive war. Entire populations were bombed out of existence, ferocious battles were fought and the Earth was, for a while, on the verge of a new Dark Age. Augments had killed more people than Hitler and Stalin combined and had almost ended our species. No wonder they were so hated and feared even centuries later by humanity.
And now I was one of them. It was impossible that I wasn't, as it explained not only how I could beat up Klingon warriors with such ease, but my now incredibly enhanced senses and mind. It also explained why the humans on this ship were so scared of me. They probably saw me as some kind of Nazi superman from a far gone past that most would probably like to forget. The problem was that I wasn't one of those super Nazis and had no desire to conquer the world, well, actually I did, but I'd been like that before and that feeling hadn't grown. And it was mostly a silly thought anyway. Who'd want all that responsibility? I'd much rather be a rich playboy adventurer with galactic influence and respect, certainly, and tons of hot women by my side. That sounded like way more fun.
I also learned I wasn't even the first Ubermensch to bother the crew of the Enterprise either, although that had been Kirk's Enterprise. Khan had tried to take over that vessel along with a group of his followers, which was why I was still under guard. They had nearly been successful too.
More of this universe's history was different I found. There were manned missions all over the solar system in the early parts of the 21st century and some were even before 2016. Apparently the USA had mostly stayed out of the Eugenics War, and had invested a heck of a lot more resources into their space program than they ever had in my world/time.
It was either that or the Eugenics War hadn't been anywhere near as bad as the history books suggested, which I suspected was true, as the International Space Station had existed in this universe as well, which shouldn't have been possible if most of the planet was nearing a dark age. Something just didn't add up.
"Computer," I called aloud to the room, an answering chime indicating it was listening for my commands. "Tell me about the cryostasis pod I was found in."
A copious amount of technical Information quickly filled the screen and I was informed that the pod had the word/name 'Gothic' printed on the side in English. For some reason, that just felt right, so I figured that that was as good a name as any to use now since I didn't feel right using my real name. This universe's version of me had died in a bombing arranged by an augment back in 1991.
And if the feeling of rightness and the word on the Pod meant that that's what the God-like being who brought me here wanted me to call myself, well, best to accommodate them. I had the distinct feeling they were going to be mostly hands off, so why not.
(Line Break)
Guest Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.
"Is this a good time to talk?" A woman asked as she entered the room, after requesting entry to my assigned quarters. I couldn't resist giving the Picard special 'Come!'
"I can come back later, if you prefer."
I had not looked away from the computer screen for hours, so this interruption was actually well received. I'd absorbed a truly massive amount of information, and even after all of that I still wasn't sure what it was I had learned or what it all meant in the grand scheme of things, though my new enhanced brain meant I remembered it all with perfect recall.
The more I learned of the recorded history of this place, the more certain I was that my initial thought was right, and that this wasn't my universe/dimension. The Eugenics Wars could not have happened in my world, even after I was displaced, at least not on the scale the records had told me about.
"My name is Deanna Troi," my visitor introduced. "I'm the ship's counsellor. I was never given your name."
Immediately, I noticed her somewhat transparent outfit. It was certainly less modest than the one she wore in the show and sure, it was pretty damn hot, but it was also strange that she was allowed to walk around wearing that, on what was, at least somewhat, a military vessel. Granted, science and exploration were Starfleet's main purpose, still, she seemed rather unprofessional. Maybe my understanding of what constituted 'professional' in this time and place was just as outdated as my computer skills. Maybe even my understanding of what was taboo was completely off. Only time would tell.
The difference in her outfit from the show to the reality in front of me was rather interesting, something that my new brain flagged as having some very significant potential implications. If the show's writers were getting glimpses into the history of this universe, as many people had theorized when talking about something as mysterious as the multiverse, perhaps they might have seen her rather scandalous outfit. They had seen it in their mind's eye, but it just wasn't allowed on a network television show. That got me wondering, what else might be different simply because of content limitations, budgetary restrictions, or lack of available time in a 42-minute-long episode? I'd have to be very careful. I had a feeling that the violence was probably the thing I could rely on the most, the closest to reality, but truly horrific stuff probably wouldn't have made it past the network censor, so they didn't even try.
"You can call me Gothic, Counselor," I told her.
Nothing was said for a while, after that, perhaps that being a strategy to get people talking, 'the power of silence' and all that, so I decided to get the conversation moving along.
"What would you like to talk about, Counselor?" I wondered as I took a seat. "My relationship with my mother? My slight case of evil megalomania?"
Counselor Troi seemed more amused than anything else at my snark. Perhaps there was hope yet for these stuffy people. Then again, she was wearing a practically transparent I was the stuffy one!
"Gonna dope me up with happy pills?" I then asked.
I was starting to think that that wouldn't be such a bad idea. Star Trek seemed great on TV, living in it freaked me out something fierce. No matter how big a fan you were, that kind of change would freak anyone out. Everything you knew about the world and how it worked was irrelevant and now in question.
"You don't need any medication," Deanna said. "Your body chemistry is perfectly normal according to Doctor Crusher, it's your emotional state that concerns me."
I really wanted to avoid talking about that, not that I truly needed to as she was empathic and therefore, she already knew how I felt.
"In my time the shrinks usually wore something a little more formal," I commented, somewhat deflecting, "and they tended to take notes."
She completely ignored my remarks, looking amused at my probably rather ham-handed attempt to rile her up.
"If it helps, I don't think you are insane," Deanna commented.
I'd once heard that if you worried that you were insane then you were most likely not crazy, because insane people don't worry about their mental health. If that was true then I found it rather comforting, because my sanity did concern me quite a lot at the moment. This whole being in freaking Star Trek was certainly an insane thing.
"But you guys think I'm evil, don't you?" I asked her bluntly.
Given how many horrors the augments were credited with, it was understandable. They'd built 'work camps' and they had performed quite a bit of ethnic cleansing. At least according to the official records.
"I'm sure you only did what you believed to be right," Deanna hedged.
It struck me then that she might actually be talking about the trader guy I'd killed. However, I was not terribly worried about that, not when people thought I could have potentially been involved in genocide and war crimes.
"Do you mind if we talk about the augments?" I requested.
She nodded.
"Did someone re-write the history books?" I asked. "Because none of it makes sense to me. I was there during the end of 20th century and there are things in your records that just aren't possible."
The history of my world made a lot of sense to me, but here it didn't. I just couldn't see how a world could suffer through the horrors of the Eugenics War and then somehow go on to be better at space exploration than my world ever had, a world that had not had anywhere near the amount of war and worldwide devastation that theirs did. Sure, WWII had advanced our technology and that eventually led to space travel due to the first rockets being developed, but the Eugenics Wars hadn't been like that. They'd certainly advanced biological weapons quite a bit, and genetic engineering, far, far more than mine had, however that didn't link well to better proficiency at space travel.
Maybe it was adversity driving us to new heights, or may it seriously all came down to First Contact with the Vulcans. Humanity learning it was not alone in the universe, but rather part of a larger community, maybe that was all it took to give us the perspective and desire we needed to reach for the stars.
"You'll get to tell your side of the story," I was assured.
That wasn't what I wanted and the wording she'd just used was rather telling. I hadn't been there; I was almost positive I'd lived in an alternate timeline and this dimension was from a freaking TV show. It was so frustrating, but I absolutely knew I couldn't share that, and that feeling was building up inside me like water about to overflow a dam.
"The humans of this time don't feel things as intensely as you do," Deanna told me, looking a little uncomfortable. "As an empath, it's a little overwhelming for me."
I could well imagine that in the Federation they had ways of dealing with emotional problems like mine, so it didn't surprise me that I was making her uncomfortable by acting all emo. Not that I would admit to being emo out loud. I idly wondered if I could make her super horny by feeling intense lust next.
"The funny thing is I'm actually quite even tempered compared to some people I knew in my time," I told the woman. "You should have met my younger brother, now he had major issues."
Which was an understatement really.
"We've cured most of the known mental disorders, and we've taught people how to get along," Deanna explained with a teasing smile. "So compared to the people of our time, you're the one with major issues. Not that this means you're crazy or need any sort of formal medical treatment or counseling. Just talking can help a great deal though. I doubt we will ever evolve away from that being helpful or unneeded."
I didn't think I could be the only one onboard having trouble dealing with this existence.
"Yes, but you go to places where people fight and die," I pointed out. "Doesn't that kind of stuff lead to problems?"
If they didn't then it meant that Troi might not be qualified to help me adjust to the culture shock that I was feeling right now, even if I couldn't tell how it was affecting me. All my reactions were out of whack in this 'new' body and I had no idea what would be my new 'normal.'
"So why do they need you?" I asked. "If everybody in this time is all mentally stable why do they need counselling?"
She had an answer ready.
"People still have problems," she said. "And I'm not just a therapist, as you understand the term, I also help the Captain evaluate encounters with different species," she told me.
This I knew, however it had never really made much sense. Emotional reactions had to be incredibly different from species to species. They couldn't all mean the same thing.
"So, if some alien ship shoots at you, then you can turn to the Captain and tell him 'I think they're angry,'" I mocked.
She took my sort-of-insult in stride.
"Sometimes," Deanna admitted. "Using your example, perhaps they fired at us out of fear, rather than animus. Or were forced by circumstance. Or maybe it was meant only as a warning shot. I can also help the Captain by telling him if someone is lying to us or might be hiding something important from us."
That actually sounded pretty useful.
"What do you really want to know?" I asked.
I didn't need to be empathic or trained in psychology to know that she hadn't come here just for a causal chat.
"Are you a danger to the crew?" she asked.
If she could tell whether I was lying or holding something back, then the honest answer was complex, but I had to give it.
"It depends on what the crew do to me," I told her truthfully. "I know they fear me, that's clear as day to me. That's fine, as long as it stays only that. But if they act on that fear, I will defend myself."
I wasn't like that arrogant fool, Khan. I knew I couldn't take over a ship that was centuries more advanced than anything in my time, and even if I was somehow able to, they'd send a fucking fleet after me. However, if they decided to exile me on some barren, uninhabited planet simply because I was now an Augment, then I wasn't going to go without a struggle.
"There will be an inquest," I was informed. "You will have a chance to tell your side of the story and deal with any accusations about what happened during the wars."
Now I was confused.
"I figured I'd be in trouble for killing the trader guy, but Data told me that that wasn't the case. I've already told you and the others; I wasn't involved in that war. The history here doesn't match mine. I'm pretty sure I'm not even from this universe!" I explained. "Can't you guys tell when someone is not native to your universe?"
I knew that this issue had come up in different episodes in a few of the series at various points.
"There are ways to confirm that," I was informed. "Doctor Crusher can perform the appropriate test on samples she has already taken, but it will take time."
I figured that the matter that made up my body would have a different quantum signature than that of the matter that made up everything else in the universe. At least that's something I vaguely remembered from the shows.
"Are you a danger to the crew?" Deanna asked , I don't know. Maybe to compare my emotional reactions each time she asked?
I pondered the question again for a moment.
"As long as I'm treated fairly, I'll treat everyone else fairly. I have no desire to harm anyone. I simply want to build a new life in this time and place," I answered honestly. The idea that I would defend myself, but not initiate aggression, was hopefully understood. Self-defense was the right of all sentient beings.
On that subject I was telling the truth.
"Good. Now, you've been cooped up for more than three hundred and fifty years," Deanna said with a laugh. "It's time to stretch your legs a little."
Hearing that surprised me, I must have passed her test.
"Wait, so I can leave these quarters?" was my next question.
I'd assumed that I was under some sort of house arrest.
"You can with me," Trio explained, "although your security escort has to come with us for the time being. At least until we know for sure that you weren't involved with the war. The captain wanted to keep you in your quarters for the foreseeable future, but I was able to convince him that that would be counterproductive."
Considering Khan's rise to power occurred while I was still wearing diapers, it seemed silly to me that anyone suspected that I was actually a part of it, but ok. I'll play along.
"Well, as long as no one tries to shove me out an airlock," I said as I headed for the exit. "I guess I could take a walk."
I was out the door before she even stood up. I couldn't wait to see the real Enterprise, rather than the set of a TV , my adventure in this time was just beginning.
Author's Note:
Read and review! Reviews are the coin of the realm in fanfiction and help keep me motivated to spend my limited time on this fic. I will happily read all your reviews, even negative ones. Looking forward to talking with you guys! New readers, introduce yourself, old readers, tell me you made the transition here! :-)