The Adventures of Augment Gothic
Part 2
Returning to sickbay was entirely unnecessary as far as I was concerned. Sure, I was pretty sore, but it was a pleasant feeling after being inactive for so long and my wounds had already stopped bleeding, far faster than I knew they should have. This new body was insane. They were actually already closing! These Starfleet types liked to fuss over nothing. Still, I'd gone along with Deanna when she had insisted that I be looked over by Doctor Crusher.
"What happened?" Beverly Crusher asked as she saw the blood and hustled over to me. "Did someone attack you?"
That required some explanation, though her concern was touching.
"I was trying out Worf's calisthenics program," I informed the doctor. "It… got a little intense."
More so when the Klingon himself had shown up and joined in. Granted, he'd been fighting on my side against the holographic monsters, but that hadn't made much difference when we'd disabled the safeties.
"No safety protocols?" Beverly asked the security chief, turning a gimlet eye on the man. This was obviously not the first time he'd done this.
Worf only stoically nodded in reply. Rather than berate him, Beverly Crusher pulled out a device that I hadn't seen before and waved it over the damaged parts of my body.
"There won't be any scarring," she assured me with a small smile. Her long experience at setting her injured patients at ease was apparent, no matter how unneeded it was in this case.
That was when I realized that some of my old scars were gone. During my nude, semi-narcissistic examination in the bathroom mirror, I had been far more focused on how I now looked like a male model, and, admittedly, the size of my penis, so the fact that all my old scars were gone hadn't exactly occurred to me. Before, I'd had a few small marks on my arms, small enough that they could only be seen by someone if they knew where to look. Only they weren't there anymore, as far as I could tell. That was pretty interesting. Did my new physiology with its regenerative properties heal them? Or was that done by my patron before he made me an augment?
Before I could ask the chief medical officer about that she pulled a second high-tech medical instrument out and began holding it over the already closing wounds, a visible energy field being emitted by the device. I assumed that this was the device that would heal the wounds, or speed up healing in the affected area, and what she had used before had been something to prevent infection or to find out how much damage there actually was in the first place. That made sense, you wouldn't want to seal up a wound if it wasn't clean already.
"Dermal regenerator," Beverly Crusher explained to me. "It can heal simple injuries, but they won't do anything for the pain; would you like something for that?"
The hurt was minor and already fading.
"I'll be fine," I assured her.
With all the enhancements made to our bodies, especially our immune systems, augments could live twice as long as normal or baseline humans, whichever term you preferred. According to the few remaining historical records, we easily dealt with things that would kill most people, so a little blood loss was no big deal in my view.
"You've got enhanced healing," Beverly explained, a serious look in her eyes, "but that doesn't make you immortal. Remember that, it may save your life."
I didn't believe in immortality, everything that had a beginning, had an end, and sooner or later everyone and everything died. Even the stars died, although that could take billions of years.
"Well, I'm more than three hundred and fifty years old," I reminded the red headed doctor, that was true at least from a strict calendar perspective. "I bet you won't look this good at my age," I joked, sending her a wink.
Not that I had aged in all that time in the pod, even with the relatively primitive cryostasis technology that had been used on me. In fact, I seemed to be younger than when I'd gone into stasis! By all accounts I should have aged a bit in that amount of time, stasis or not. I'd have to ask the Doctor about my biological age that her instruments could detect, at least once the Doctor had completed her tests to confirm that I wasn't from this neck of the woods.
"You aren't even the oldest person on this ship, Gothic, even with your time in stasis," the medical woman informed me. "And if you want to get any older, you'll have to be a little more careful. Keep in mind, fast healing also means it could heal incorrectly, if not taken care of quickly enough. A bone that heals incorrectly would need to be rebroken, for example."
Well, that was a downer. Since I wanted to live for a good while longer, I decided that I would try to be more careful, and that I'd look into getting some better protection to prevent the injury in the first place. The various shows made it clear that there was no end of conflict and danger in this time after all, no matter what they said about eliminating war. Perhaps some combat training was in order, as well. And next time, the safeties would be on. That'd be an ignominious way for a badass augment like me to die, killed on the holodeck during a simulation…because he was stupid and arrogant, like all the Khan-era augments that came before him who got their supposedly superior asses kicked.
(Line Break)
Guest Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.
"Computer, tell me more about the augments of Earth, 20th century CE."
The last time I'd done research I'd mostly focused on the differences between the history of humans here on Earth and the humans of my dimension, now I needed to learn more about those augments and the wars they'd caused. This was especially important since I was genetically enhanced to a level that just wasn't done today, so learning about those augments would help me better understand myself. Sure, there were a few parents here and there that would break the law and enhance one or maybe two aspects of their child, but the complete overhaul, like I had gotten, just wasn't done anymore. It was far too dangerous and the more you changed the more likely it was that something would go terribly, horribly wrong. That's why they kept referring to me as a 'Khan-era augment.' It was both a reference to the time period I came from, but also the level of genetic engineering I'd undergone. No one had experience with this level of genetic manipulation on a human anymore, the last time humanity had tried to play God to this level, we nearly brought our species to the brink.
According to the records, in 1992, the Augments who had born around the late 1950s seized power in over forty nations on Earth, leading to the conflict also known as the 'Great Wars'. They had battled amongst each other as well as with 'normal' humans. The Augments were, for the most part, horrible despots who treated their subjects like slaves.
The Augments were finally overthrown in 1996; the last to be deposed being Khan Noonien Singh, who had held on with a tenacity that was hard not to admire, considering he had the whole world working against him. After the end of the war some eighty odd Augments had been unaccounted for, including Khan. It wasn't until centuries later that he re-surfaced to once again cause trouble.
As a result of the wars, genetic engineering to enhance the human body was banned totally on Earth, though genetic manipulation was allowed to cure diseases/disorders. An example of how extreme the ban was was when scientist Stavos Keniclius, who had planned to clone Augments to create a master race of peacekeepers, was exiled off the planet due to the lingering fear of the enhanced and the possibility of a return to those dark times. Also, sometime after 1996, the authorities had collected all the remaining Augment embryos and placed them into storage. By the 2130s they had been moved to the Earth Starfleet facility Cold Station 12 for study.
In the 2130s, Arik Soong, Senior Medical Director of Cold Station 12, managed to steal several Augment embryos from the facility, which he took to the Trialas system, where he raised the resulting children as his own. A decade later he was captured by Earth forces, but refused to disclose what had happened to the embryos. Then, in May 2154, the answer to this mystery was found when Soong's Augments, led by an augment called Malik, seized control of a Klingon Bird-of-Prey, killing and jettisoning its crew into space.
The Klingons later recovered these bodies, and after discovering the Human augment DNA on them, threatened war. The first Enterprise was launched to the Borderlands to find these Augments and to bring them back to Earth, and Arik Soong was recruited to assist the ship in doing so. Soong managed to escape on Verex III and rejoin his Augments, who then planned to use their stolen Bird-of-Prey to free the thousands of other augment embryos still stored on Cold Station 12.
All of these Augments were killed when Malik destroyed their Bird-of-Prey to avoid capture. Soong, who had 'defected' to the Enterprise, decided afterwards to switch his scientific focus to cybernetics.
That was only a summary of the available information, there was so much more to learn, so I went back to the start and requested more information. Only there wasn't much more information on the augments that I was allowed access to, and since these events had taken place so long ago there were no witnesses left alive, no one who could confirm that I hadn't been there.
Or was there?
(Line Break)
Ten Forward. U.S.S. Enterprise.
"I was on Earth until the 2020s," Guinan said. "I got disgusted with the relocation camps so I caught a ride on the first warp capable freighter I could to get away."
Data was sitting with the Captain and Riker at a table in Ten Forward and Guinan had chosen to join them. The subject of conversation had rapidly turned to the strange man onboard who was now calling himself 'Gothic.'
"Did you ever meet our guest in that time?" Captain Picard asked the bartender. "Or hear about him?"
The bald captain wasn't sure if he was hoping for a yes or a no. On the one hand, he didn't want a possible mass murderer on his ship, on the other, he knew that things would be much simpler for everyone if Gothic had been a tyrant because then the augment could be handed over to someone else to deal with. With so many years having passed since that time, would it even be appropriate or right to hold him accountable though? Thankfully, that would not be his decision to make.
"No," Guinan said, "and all of the Augments were very well known by the 90s, so if he was one of them then he kept himself completely out of sight, which would have been very out of character for them. But I really think he comes from somewhere else."
Picard trusted Guinan's judgment, but Riker wasn't so convinced.
"Maybe he worked from behind the scenes," the commander suggested.
The bartender shook her head.
"I was on Earth at that time," she informed Riker. "The Augments were arrogant and driven by unending ambition, they wanted to rule and weren't shy about it once they had taken over. Khan was just the most well-known of them, the others all still had their time in the spotlight, and this Gothic was never on any of the TV broadcasts I saw.
Picard found this encouraging, however he wasn't going to allow their guest free roam just yet, not until Doctor Crusher's latest test results came through. If this Gothic's quantum signature was different then everyone else's, that would conclusively prove that he was from another universe and thus not responsible for any of the horrors of that time on Earth. If that were the case, then he would be treated the same as any other being staying on the Enterprise, Augment or not.
Still, he couldn't help but worry, if Gothic was just someone lost in another universe and time then he was going to have a very hard time building a life for himself here, and there was only so much Picard could do to help.
(Line Break)
Ten Forward. U.S.S. Enterprise.
I'd come to this place hoping to enlist Guinan's aid in proving that I wasn't one of Khan's lot only to find that the Captain of this fine ship had already beaten me to it. Everyone seemed a lot more relaxed around me, so I figured they'd all heard that I wasn't as bad as they had feared.
"What is this?" I asked, once I had forced down the vile green liquid. "And why is it glowing?"
The stuff was sort of like booze, only definitely not.
"It's synthehol," Deanna explained. "It doesn't taste quite the same as regular alcohol, but it also doesn't have any of the negative effects either. It does give the sense of being mildly intoxicated, but you can shake off the effects easily enough."
In other words, it was synthetic booze. That kind of sucked, but the chairs were comfortable at least, and while sitting next to a window at the front of a starship that was moving faster than the speed of light was a little unnerving at first, it was one hell of a view.
"Doesn't it seem a little weird having windows on a space ship?" I asked Troi.
I doubted these windows were made of glass, still, I had a part to play, and 20th century yokel in awe of all this fancy technology was the part, no matter how silly it made me look. Seeming too knowledgeable or comfortable or familiar with all of this futuristic shit would raise suspicions, fortunately/unfortunately it was only partly an act.
"We have navigational deflector shields that protect the ship at all times," Deanna assured me. "And the viewports you can see through are made from a form of transparent metal that hadn't been invented yet in your time, not glass."
Again, most of this stuff I already knew from the various shows and movies, however I'd decided that it would be best to feign ignorance for the time being, if nothing else it would make me seem less dangerous. As a Khan-era augment my learning curve was expected to be short, given the way my brain had been enhanced, but it couldn't be instantaneous.
"May we join you?" a voice inquired.
Captain Picard and Data were standing near our table now, along with Commander Riker, and my inner nerd squealed so hard at the thought of them wanting to join me that I almost drowned while just taking a sip of my drink. I wonder what Troi would make of these sudden feelings of excitement. The flustered look she was sporting, that I could see from the corner of my eye, suggested she hadn't missed it.
"How are you finding your accommodations?" Picard inquired after I had given my leave and he had taken a seat.
I'd always wondered why someone with a French name and French ancestry sounded so damn English, but I didn't ask as I felt it best not to risk offending someone who was letting me spend time on their cool space ship.
"My quarters are great, Captain, very comfortable," I replied. "Thank you for your hospitality."
Perhaps 'hospitality' wasn't the right word. I was still under guard for the time being, but I was allowed to move around the ship freely, as long as they went with me. I figured that they were following me in case I turned out to be just a bit crazy. Which was also why Deanna Troi was the one showing me around; she was trying to suss out just how insane I was, at least when compared to the mentally healthy people of today.
"What do you think of the Enterprise?" was Riker's rather safe question, but again I was supposed to be a 20th century hillbilly.
It was a great ship, something that the shows, with their budgetary restrictions, just couldn't do justice. Although if it was exactly like the one in the TV show I would at some point suggest that they install seatbelts on the bridge and look into whatever it was that made the damn control consoles explode all the time. I wonder if they tracked how many bridge crew were killed by exploding consoles.
"It's an amazing ship, a living community in space, though I haven't seen much more than my room, the corridors, the holodeck and sickbay," I said. "I'm looking forward to seeing more of the ship when I get a chance."
Getting to visit the bridge would be super cool. However, somehow, I doubted that this would ever happen.
"You'll have the opportunity," Riker told me. "Now that your quantum resonance test confirms that you're from another universe we're planning on treating you like a proper guest."
That was a nice sentiment, but the guards were still shadowing me, so I didn't assume that I was now being welcomed with open arms. The prejudice against the genetically enhanced seemed to be alive and well even in the 24th century. Although, to be fair, I had broken the wrist of one of the medical personnel and beaten up a few Klingons. In Picard's place I would have probably locked me in the brig.
"Good, because I can't pay for passage," I said.
Not that I needed to as I knew that they didn't use cash, it was just that I wasn't supposed to know that. I was supposed to be acting like everything was similar to the 1990s, even though I had been 'taken' from my home dimension in 2016.
"We no longer use money as you knew it," Captain Picard said. "All citizens of the Federation are provided with everything they need. We are no longer obsessed with the accumulation of material goods."
He sounded rather smug and superior when saying that, though I doubt he realized that or would even admit to it. However, I also noticed that he didn't say that people no longer wished to accumulate goods, just that they weren't obsessed with it. I imagine there were still some pretty nice perks to having some money, even in this time, luxuries that weren't available to the average Federation citizen without that money he was blinded to the value of. Several off-hand references in episodes from Deep Space Nine seemed to indicate that, but you had to look pretty deeply to see it. I remember many people from my dimension commenting on the Star Trek shows saying that humanity, even in that depiction, would still have need for money.
"So, anything anybody wants is just replicated for them?" I questioned. This was actually something the shows didn't make clear. Some fans, like myself, had speculated on this subject, but no one really knew for sure. All we had was guesswork from random bits and pieces in the shows, throwaway lines that the show's writers probably didn't even intend to be examined closely to discover the full implications of.
If this was the case then I wondered how many people back on Earth sat around and did nothing all day, every day. For most of human history my race had needed to go out and get things to survive, be that the creatures they hunted for food or food they paid for at the supermarket. If that need was gone, then a lot of people would have little reason to ever leave their homes. But, then again, maybe humanity had fundamentally changed after the wars that nearly led to our extinction and the realization that we weren't alone in the universe.
"Within reason, of course," Picard answered. "There are certain materials that can't be replicated or things that require a great deal of energy to produce."
Which was why some races used that gold pressed latinum stuff as money. Latinum was a critical, and unreplicable, component in the construction of replicators themselves, if I recalled correctly. I think it was some form of extremely refined and liquidized platinum, but again, the shows really didn't make that clear.
"Is the energy free then?" I asked. "It must take a lot of power to keep people supplied with goods."
Either they converted energy into matter or they turned any matter they had into other stuff they wanted, and that couldn't be easy to do.
"It is produced cheaply enough to be almost free," Deanna told me. "There are set amounts each person receives per month for their use, measured in energy credits, credits for short, that they can use to replicate goods. Of course, some materials are harder or impossible to replicate, so we do have traditional mining operations as well. The Federation also trades with other worlds and polities for those materials. In your terms, those materials are more valuable and thus cost more to acquire and produce. Not everything is replicated, though, on some of the colonies people still grow food and make things the old-fashioned way."
The way she said "in your terms" was really condescending and frankly I felt that calling something more valuable and costly because it couldn't be replicated was entirely accurate, even in the 24th century. Those were market forces. The mention of energy credits and the way they were allotted to citizens confirmed a fan theory on the subject. I vaguely recalled, in an episode of Deep Space Nine, that Sisko said he had used all of his 'transporter rations' to go and eat at his father's restaurant each night in his first year at the Academy because he was homesick. It was a throwaway line, but it made perfect sense to limit what each person could get, assuming they didn't have unlimited amounts of energy. Using a transporter probably required a lot of energy.
"You must need money sometimes," I speculated. "Like what if I went to a planet outside the Federation. How would I pay for things there?"
Given that I was thinking of moving to DS9 in the future, this was something I needed to know.
"The Federation does not use a form of hard money or currency, or commodity money, like several races do in the alpha quadrant, instead using a form of fiat money called the Federation credit," Data explained. "Many races, especially those who already maintain a trade relationship with the Federation, will accept Federation credits as payment for goods and services. For those races who do not, many banks and other institutions offer currency exchange services for a small fee."
So, from the sound of it, their money was fiat, just like most money printed by governments in the 20th century, with no intrinsic value because of the materials, like gold pressed latinum. They didn't have tangible, physical money, but they did have something you could use to exchange for goods and services in and out of the Federation, with varying levels of difficulty depending on the Federation's trade relationship with those parties. People were given a minimum amount automatically, that probably covered a few extras, but depending on your contribution to society, you probably got more. It really wasn't terribly different than what I was used to, other than everyone was provided money, food, shelter, and medical care, all for free. You probably got more if you had more kids and thus greater needs, so it had a slightly communistic bent.
This all made sense and fit what we saw at times. On Deep Space Nine, for example, Federation citizens and Starfleet personnel had obviously been able to easily pay Quark for drinks, gambling, and their use of the holosuite, something even a shrewd Ferengi like Quark accepted in payment. So they must have had some form of wages that other races accepted. However, they didn't care about the money, earning it wasn't necessary to survive or motivate them to go to work each day, it was just something they used when they had to. They probably didn't have monthly bills in the sense I was used to. No car payment, no rent or mortgage bill to pay, no food bills, no expenses for health care, free travel rations. That sounded pretty damn nice. I still wanted to be rich, but they did have a lot to be proud of.
"We've conquered poverty," the Captain said next. "We work because we want to work. Not for the material rewards or the necessities of life."
He sounded very superior once again, but again, that was something to be proud of.
"There are advantages to working hard, though," Riker added. "Lower ranking crew members have to share quarters, but when they earn a promotion, they are given larger rooms of their own. There are still rewards, as you'd understand it, for people who work for the betterment of the Federation. It's just that the rewards themselves aren't the reason why people put the effort in."
That was actually rather fair.
"What's important is that we've abolished hunger, poverty, and war, at least within our own borders," Captain Picard told me. "Humans no longer fight each other over resources and territory. We've evolved past such things."
I was about to point out how that wasn't how evolution worked, when someone else joined us at the table.
"Gothic, this is Guinan," Captain Picard said, unaware that we'd already met. "She is the bartender here, a personal friend, and the oldest person on the ship, even older than you. She's also the person who convinced me that you had no part in the Eugenics Wars."
I'd known that she had been on Earth in the distant past, she was featured in the episode with Marc Twain of all people, but I'd not known that she was still there when Khan was around. But rather than talk about that, the Captain changed the subject for some reason.
"We will be making a brief stop to pick up a visitor, a distinguished Vulcan ambassador," the captain informed me. "He will likely be interested in meeting you. After all, it's not every day that we have someone not only from the past, but an augment from an alternate universe onboard. Even for the Enterprise this is something rather new and exciting."
Not that they hadn't encountered stranger beings than me.
"Yes, I'm sure Ambassador Sarek would be delighted to meet you," Commander Riker said, a smirk now on his face for some reason. "If Vulcans allowed themselves to feel delighted."
If I recalled correctly, there would soon be an episode when Sarek not only lost control of his emotions, but also started making other people feel things, and it would lead to all sorts of trouble. Maybe that time was now. How many times had he been on this ship?
"Can't wait to meet him," I said.
Perhaps I'd get to join in the bar fight, as an augment I had a feeling that it would be a lot of fun.
(Line Break)
Performance Room. U.S.S. Enterprise.
Considering how unimportant I was in the grand scheme of things, now that no one thought I was a mass murdering despot from the past I was suddenly being treated as a VIP. That was pretty surprising. I even got a front row seat at the concert and that was a hot ticket, believe it or not. Many would be forced to watch a recording of the performance or on their screens in their quarters. Deanna, looking particularly sexy tonight, was sitting on my right and the Captain was on my left. It was like I was also a famous ambassador.
I felt a little overdressed, though. Most in the room were simply wearing their regular Starfleet uniforms and not even their dress uniforms, as Sarek had said he wouldn't be attending. Whereas I had gone the other way and replicated a six-button, double breasted, pinstripe, Armani suit, with a handsome spread collar shirt and rose gold silk satin tie for the event. These, I had found, after an exhaustive search in the Earth historical dress replicator pattern database. The clothes were essentially tailored as the computer had taken my measurements with exacting, inhuman precision, showing off my new build to perfection. Being able to replicate things was an insane game changer. If I had needed to buy these clothes and get them tailored in my time, I'm sure it would have cost something in the range of $10,000 and taken a week or two for tailoring. In this time, it was something like 5 credits and 30 second to replicate. The research to find the patterns had taken the vast majority of the process.
I knew it probably looked archaic and anachronistic to many, but in my new body, I looked damn good, like a male runway model and from the looks I was getting from many of the beautiful ladies in the room, they must see something they liked. The amused glances Troi was sending me confirmed I wasn't misreading the signs of interest in their coy and sometimes almost pornographic appraisals of me.
The interest of various human women in me, and to a somewhat lesser extent, humanoid females, had surprised me. Sure, I knew I was good looking now and fit as hell, but it felt like more than that. Whenever I got within something like 10 feet of a woman their nostrils would flare a tiny bit and the interest in their eyes ratcheted up several notches and they would find any excuse to stop and chat and touch me, sending all kinds of signals that they were interested in me. I had spoken to Dr. Crusher about the phenomenon. At first she had looked very amused, then turned thoughtful. She had taken a few scans and hadn't found anything out of the ordinary, but speculated that humanity, and the other humanoid species, has some mate-seeking instincts that they still didn't understand the mechanics of, something I was triggering as a strong alpha male capable of giving them unusually strong offspring. Of course, these women were unlikely to be consciously aware of this or even necessarily want children, but the drive was there. She suggested doing a study on the phenomenon which I politely declined. I had zero desire for the Federation to have even more information on me that could potentially be used against me in the future.
The room quieted and suddenly I didn't feel quite so silly and overdressed as Sarek had apparently changed his mind and had decided to attend the concert.
"Ambassador Sarek, Perrin, welcome," the Captain formally greeted the Vulcan and his human wife. "I'm so glad you were able to make it."
The ambassador didn't look infirm or feeble to me. He looked like a vigorous man in his late sixties, still healthy and capable of many more things. Yet I knew that he was over two hundred years old and suffering from a neurological disorder.
"It was my good wife's suggestion that we attend. It seemed an ideal diversion. Perrin can be quite logical, when she chooses to be," the old alien said to the Starfleet officer. "I also quite wished to meet your guest from another time and dimension."
The Captain turned and gestured toward me.
"May I please introduce, Gothic," Picard introduced. "For his own reasons he has decided to use that name here, rather than his real one."
I had valid reasons for that, aside from my counterpart in this reality having died at a very young age due to the actions of an augmented human. I also felt that I was a distinctly new person now with a new life. The name change was simply a reflection of that, and would hopefully keep my patron happy as well.
"Live long and prosper," I greeted, using the traditional salutation nerds of the show loved, while making the appropriate split finger hand sign.
My inner geek was so very happy right now!
"Thank you, I already have," Sarek answered in return, with just a trace of uplifted lips.
While I knew Vulcans didn't make traditional jokes, for some reason I found that to be very funny.
"I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with you more," Sarek said. "The chance to meet someone who is not only from the past, but also from a different universe is a once in a lifetime opportunity, even for someone who has lived as long as I have. Perhaps after the negotiations are complete you would join for me afternoon tea."
He seemed almost eager at the prospect.
"I'd like that very much," I told the ambassador. And I did. It'd be a pretty amazing experience I'm sure. This was a man who had played a pivotal role in the development of the Federation into what it was today. Maybe he'd be able to answer some of my questions about why things were the way they were.
In the corner of my eye I could see a brief flash of jealousy on the Captain's face, and I took some pleasure in that, however I wasn't a cruel person so I didn't monopolize the ambassador's time. Instead, I subtly backed away and sat down, as I did my eyes scanned the room. Everyone else seemed to be paying attention to the Vulcan, even while they were talking to someone else. People treated Sarek as if he was some kind of huge and famous celebrity, yet he was a peacemaker and diplomat rather than, say, a professional athlete or famous Hollywood actor. It seemed that what humans considered 'fame' and what they celebrated had changed greatly over the last few hundred years.
The concert soon began with Data and three other musicians performing a selection of classical music. With my enhanced hearing, which had been very overwhelming at first, but was now something I rather enjoyed, I was able to tell that the android's performance was absolutely flawless. In fact, it was a little too good. No matter how good you were, no matter if you playing from the same piece of sheet music, there were always subtle differences from moment to moment in breath and pitch and length of each note, even infinitesimal differences, different emphasis, different emotions at work during each performance, etc. That was part of playing music; the musician put a little of themselves in the music.
Data's playing, though, was so mechanically perfect…and uniform…it was noticeable to my ears. For most, it was still enjoyable to listen to, their hearing being unable to detect the unnaturalness of it all, but for someone with my incredible hearing it was quite noticeable and somewhat jarring.
In fact, it kind of reminded me of the phenomenon in game production back in my time known as "uncanny valley." It was a phenomenon whereby a computer-generated figure or humanoid robot bearing a near-identical resemblance to a human being somehow aroused a sense of unease or revulsion in the person viewing it. It happened most often when looking at an artificial depiction of a face, and our minds somehow notices the wrongness of it, no matter how good a rendering. My enhanced senses were telling me that something was wrong here, something unnatural.
The Vulcans in the front row looked agitated and I wondered if their hearing gave them the same opinion of Data's playing as mine, that same sense of wrongness, or if they were simply concerned about the ambassador. Their hearing was supposed to be much better than a human's, after all, though still not as good as mine. I knew it was the latter when I turned to see that Ambassador Sarek had been so moved by the performance that he was crying.
(Line Break)
Ten Forward. U.S.S. Enterprise.
As I walked into Ten Forward, I found that I rather enjoyed my new freedom. I no longer had guards following me around the ship, and I was able to move about the ship as freely as any other guest on the ship.
"Gothic, what a surprise," Guinan greeted warmly. "I didn't think they'd let you out on your own so soon."
Without me having to ask she poured me a drink.
"Yeah, no guards," I replied with a smile. "Guess Deanna reported that I'm not a threat to the ship and crew."
I still had no idea how I was ever considered a credible threat to the ship. If so many things around here weren't voice controlled I wouldn't have even been able to find this place on my own, or take a shower, or even flush the toilet; I shit you not. Not that I wasn't learning very fast—this enhanced mind was amazing!—but it was going to take me a while to figure out how to use computers that were centuries ahead of my own time.
"This isn't synthehol," I stated, after sipping my drink appreciatively. "It's blue, but definitely not fake booze. I can tell the difference. What is this? I rather like it!"
I was soon given an answer.
"Romulan ale," the bartender told me. "It's technically illegal for Federation citizens, but you aren't part of the Federation and neither am I really, so I'm not breaking any laws by serving it to you."
As it turned out Romulan ale was pretty awesome, no wonder Starfleet personnel were always breaking the law by drinking it in the movies.
"This place seems even more dull than normal," I commented, glancing around at all the empty tables, "but I suppose it's still early."
There were only a few other people in Ten Forward at the moment and given the number of people who had attended the concert earlier, there was nothing really important going on that could be diverting everyone's attention.
"We've been having some unusual discipline problems on board recently," the provider of intoxicants explained, a small frown now on her face. "Believe it or not, there was a bar fight in here earlier."
"Sorry I missed it," I joked.
I believed it, as I could remember that scene from the show. I was annoyed about missing the rumble, though, but getting real booze more than made up for that. Sipping my booze I had a moment to look more closely at Guinan and it jogged a memory.
"So, Guinan, when you were on Earth in the 20th century did you ever meet an actress named Whoopie Goldberg?" I asked.
I hadn't really expected that actress to have existed in this dimension, but when the bartender dropped the glass she had been holding, I had an epiphany.
"You were her!" I shouted loudly, while laughing uproariously. "Oh, wow!"
Guinan shushed me while hurriedly glancing around at her nearly empty bar.
"No one on the Enterprise knows that I used to be in films," she told me. "All the copies of my movies were destroyed in the wars."
Which meant only she and I knew about them. I smelled opportunity! Let's see if I could twist the metaphorical knife a bit.
"So, you're saying no one here has ever seen the thematic masterpiece that is Sister Act?" I asked, with a completely straight face.
Apparently, Guinan could blush, who knew?
"Never tell anyone," she requested emphatically as she put the bottle of Romulan Ale on the bar. "I've got six bottles of this stuff in the back. How much will it take to make you forget all about those movies?"
I pondered the question for a moment.
"No idea," I answered. "I don't even know if I can get drunk."
When Guinan poured me another drink of the blue stuff I figured that I was going to find out.
(Line Break)
Briefing Room. U.S.S. Enterprise.
"Captain, this is not just an isolated incident," Deanna said firmly. "There have been reports of random violence all over the ship."
She knew how the Captain idolized Sarek, so the news they were going to deliver wouldn't be welcome.
"Are you suggesting this is somehow contagious?" the Captain asked incredulously.
Beverly shook her head.
"There's no indication of any bacteria or virus," she reported. "I've run every test I know. I've checked the water, food replicators, I've even taken airborne samples from random areas of the ship. Nothing."
Picard was understandably concerned.
"This is a hell of a time," he complained. "Whatever it is, I don't want it to affect the Ambassador. I want his quarters isolated from the rest of the crew until we've identified the cause."
The doctor and ship's therapist exchanged glances.
"It's not that simple, Captain," Deanna informed him.
Beverly figured that she would have to be the one to come out and say it.
"We have determined that the outbreak of violence started at virtually the same time Ambassador Sarek and his party beamed onto the ship," she told Picard. "We do have a working theory. We believe that it's possible Ambassador Sarek himself is responsible for these incidents."
Picard's expression clearly said he thought this to be unlikely.
"Sarek?" he asked in disbelief, giving them strange looks.
The half Betazoid woman took over the explanation.
"I felt something during the concert. Vague and undefined, but very disturbing," Deanna told him. "When I looked for the source, I found the ambassador crying."
Picard was still not convinced, he was, however, shocked.
"A Vulcan moved to tears by music?" he said. "It's unbelievable."
Or perhaps it wasn't.
"Well, Vulcans have the same basic emotions we do. In fact, the intensity of those emotions is many times what humans experience," Troi reminded everyone. "They've just learned to repress them. What I sensed during the concert was that he'd lost that control."
Picard might not be convinced, but Riker was, mostly because he'd seen the bar fight up close. Such chaos was rarely seen anywhere in Starfleet and the crew serving on the Enterprise were the best of the best the fleet had to offer, in his mind there had to be some sort of outside influence that was behind it.
"What would cause such a loss of emotional control?" the commander inquired.
The doctor had an answer.
"There's a very rare condition that sometimes affects Vulcans over the age of two hundred. Bendii Syndrome. Its early symptoms include sudden bursts of strong emotion, mostly irrational anger. Eventually, all emotional control is lost," Beverly said.
Picard now seemed to be coming around to the idea.
"I cannot imagine anything that would be more offensive to a Vulcan," he said quietly. "Their emotional detachment is the very core of their being. But how could this affect others onboard the ship?"
It was a valid question.
"Vulcans possess telepathic abilities," Deanna told her superior officer. "Sarek may unintentionally be projecting his intense emotions onto other people, at random, without his being aware of it."
That was bad enough, but it could get worse.
"And when the Legarans beam onboard?" Picard asked, now quite worried.
He now saw a real threat to the upcoming negotiations, and this very much concerned him.
"They could very well be affected too," Beverly said quietly.
That this could possibly mean an end to the entire treaty process wasn't lost on anyone. Sarek had been cultivating a good working relationship with the Legarans over the past ninety years. These negotiations were to be the culmination of his life's work.
"Is there a treatment?" Picard asked.
Deanna could sense that he already suspected the answer, even before Beverly shook her head quietly and looked towards the floor. If there had been a treatment, she already would have suggested it.
"Can't someone else take his place?" Riker wondered.
Captain Picard shook his head.
"Sarek has built a personal relationship with them," he said. "They will accept no one else."
Riker looked worried about something else.
"What about our other guest?" he asked. "I can only imagine what an out of control augment might get up to if he was effected by these projected emotions."
Actually, he could imagine it, and what he pictured in his mind was not at all pretty.
"So far the incidents have been isolated," Deanna said. "And he hasn't been effected at all as far as I can tell. He may have been lucky, but it's just as likely that he has a far greater resistance than the rest of us."
That intrigued Picard.
"Why?" the captain asked, genuinely curious.
Deanna needed a moment to correctly phrase her answer.
"Having spent some time with Gothic, I can say for certain that he feels things more intensely than the rest of us," she explained to the room. "And he comes from a far more stressful environment than what we experienced while growing up, so he's likely far more accustomed to resisting strong, violent urges than we are. Beverly would know better, of course, but physically, the genetic enhancements to his brain and body might also be playing a part in resisting external influence. We really don't fully understand the physiology of a Khan-era augment.
Beverly nodded in agreement, looking thoughtful.
Riker was still worried.
"The consequences if he should lose emotional control are much greater than those of any other crew member," the commander pointed out.
Deanna felt that this was a little unfair, if not a bit prejudiced, but right now wasn't the time to discuss such things. As a half human who had not grown up on Earth, she didn't fully understand the level of fear and prejudice humanity sill harbored for the genetically enhanced, especially since the Eugenics Wars was over two hundred years ago. Nevertheless, they needed to focus on Sarek and the important upcoming negotiations. She could worry about the displaced augment later.
(Line Break)
Holodeck. U.S.S. Enterprise
I was not in a good mood, not after going through The Adventures of Flotter, which was a series of children's holoprograms set in the Forest of Forever, where colorful characters like Flotter and Trevis (representations of natural elements and the forces of nature) helped teach children to be good little Federation boys and girls. So far, I'd gone through 'Flotter and the Tree Monster', 'Flotter and the Perfect Day', "Trevis and the Terribly Twisted Trunk', 'Flotter, Trevis, and the Ogre of Fire' and last of all 'Flotter Meets the Invincible Invertebrates', which had involved me proving that they weren't all that invincible. My approach may have been unique, though.
"So, all of you completed these programs when you were kids?" I asked once the last program had ended. "Did you like them?"
Personally, I was somewhat insulted that Troi had made me endure these so-called adventures as part of her project to help me adjust to living in another time and universe. I didn't think I needed it, though I suppose these might have been cultural touchstones and thus to fit in I had to be somewhat aware of them, like being aware of certain movies and TV shows back in my day which were part of the cultural lexicon.
"Flotter was one of my favorites as a child," she informed me, that ever-present soft smile on her face. "Only back then we had to use virtual reality devices. Holodecks have only been in common use for the past fifteen years or so."
While on the surface it hadn't seemed that different from the kids' programs of my time, but there was something rather insidious about the whole thing that an adult could pick up. I felt like someone had been trying to brainwash me.
"Why did they make you so uneasy?" Deanna asked me, obviously having sensed my emotions then and now. "I know that using a program meant for children can be embarrassing, but you seem rather upset."
I'd forgotten for a moment that she could tell what I was feeling no matter how expressionless my face was.
"They all seemed a little wrong somehow," I said.
Deanna looked genuinely confused.
"I'm not sure what you mean," was her response. "Of course, most people don't attack the invincible invertebrates, but aside from that you did very well."
After a few moments thought, I found a way to express what was on my mind.
"I think the problem is shared in Federation culture. I'm worried that deep down, you all actually think that, eventually, everybody is going to come around to your way of thinking," I explained. "That your way of thinking is the correct way, and that one day all species will recognize that. And on that day the whole galaxy will be united under the great flag of the United Federation of Planets."
Flotter was pretty much a mouthpiece for Federation ideals, an insidious piece of cultural propaganda that they systematically exposed all their children to when they were impressionable and malleable. That was what bothered me about the creature, that and it was annoyingly cheerful.
"We can only hope," Deanna told me, and she meant it. I could tell.
That rather naïve, or perhaps indoctrinated, attitude, scared me a little. Thank goodness that there were hidden 'villains' running around behind the scenes of this little utopia with duct tape and a dripping dagger in their hands, otherwise I have no doubt it would have collapsed a long time ago. Those villains obviously had a bit more of a realistic grasp on the many horrors this galaxy could offer. They knew how many would gladly feast on the Federation's rich corpse if they could. I had no doubt I was already on Section 31's radar.
"But what if some people don't want to follow the party line?" I asked her. "What if they want to live the way they choose to, and not your way?"
I was thinking of the Maquis when I asked that; they had chosen to stay in the DMZ rather than go back to the Federation. Their struggle was a bit ridiculous, in my opinion, there being many other planets they could start again on with not too much trouble. I could respect the stand, though, even if I felt it wasn't worth it; it proved that humanity still had a bit of fight left in it. They, like many others, had chosen their colonies over living on planets like Earth, so not everyone saw it as perfect and/or desirable.
"People have freedom in the Federation," Deanna pointed out. "They can do anything they want to with their lives."
That wasn't strictly true.
"Your freedom has exceptions. I certainly can't do 'anything I want to,'" I argued, "because I'm an augment I can never join Starfleet or run for political office."
Granted, I really didn't want to do those things, but not having the option meant I wasn't free to choose them.
"Is that what troubles you about the program?" Deanna asked me. "I suppose I can see why you'd find it contradictory, but yours is a very unusual and very rare case."
Flotter was all about everyone getting along and being equal, but that wasn't what life was really like.
"I suppose, even with those options off the table, it doesn't really matter, all my technical skills are more than three hundred and fifty years out of date," I said. "I doubt anybody needs someone with my retail experience either, what with your lack of money and replicators in every home."
Really all I had were my new enhanced abilities and my foreknowledge of the future, though my enhanced mind had proven I had an incredible ability to quickly learn new things. My outsider perspective also gave me a much better resistance to the Federation Kool-Aid they were all drinking happily.
"You'll be able to do whatever you want to," Deanna promised. "All your needs will be met, and you'll be able to seek out employment just for the sake of personal improvement and enjoyment."
The problem there was that I really had no idea what to do. Thankfully Troi was here to offer some suggestions.
"Both archeologists and sociologists on Earth will want to speak with you," she said. "You are living history, and even though your Earth is different than ours, you still lived in a past era; there's still much you can teach our historians about that time."
Life as a guest lecturer didn't sound very exciting to me, but it was better than doing nothing at all. Then I realized that perhaps I could do better, and I couldn't see that before because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. I had freaking super powers which would be wasted in an academic life. With my rough knowledge of the events of the next 10 years or so, opportunities were all around me.
My trail of thought came to end when Troi's communicator suddenly beeped.
"Deanna," Commander Riker's voice said. "We need you to come to the Captain's quarters. We have a problem."
She pressed the comm device on her chest before replying.
"I'll be right there," she answered before addressing me. "We'll have to continue our talk another time."
I figured she was off to help the captain who was currently carrying all of Sarek's emotional baggage and instability, that was way more important than my inability to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, so I wasn't upset when she left the holodeck very quickly.
Actually, this was a good thing, a golden opportunity, because I was now in the holodeck all by myself, and there had to be a plethora of Starfleet training programs available for the ship's residents, like a beginner's shuttle pilot training program or a training program on phaser combat.
"Computer," I called aloud to the grid of yellow and black, a wicked smile now on my face. "Let's have some fun."