Augment Gothic
Airlock. Deep Space Nine.
Section 31 hadn't been able to drop me off in the Bajoran system, but I had my own ship with a top speed of warp 7 so I'd found my way home again. Prophets! When had this Cardassian slag heap become my home?!
Odd consdering I pretty much had my own palace on my own semi-tropical private island on Bajor for Prophet's sake! Really needed to spend more time there.
My Bajoran girls were all in the Militia so it wouldn't be hard to claim I needed them for special team building exercises and issue them orders to that effect. We could 'team build' to our heart's content on my beach, or under my waterfall, or in the natural hot springs on my island, or in my palatial master bedroom…
I was used to travelling light and enduring hardships during the Occupation, so this mission had been no big deal, but it was very nice to be back in the comforts of home living. Which said something strange about my life, probably not anything good, if I considered what was basically a slave built space station/Cardassian ore processer to be a place of comfort.
Major Ro Laren, who was my official 2IC and adjutant, and who dealt with most of the day-to-day issues of the off world militia met me at the airlock. She wore a modified version of the standard duty uniform, though hers was black and hugged her body to perfection. She'd gone to the trouble of having it custom tailored, and I heartily approved.
"Welcome home, General. So, did you have another grand adventure?" she asked coyly with a smile on her face, as we headed to my quarters.
Well, yes I did, and it was quite an eye opener, but I couldn't exactly tell her about it. Well, I could, but then I'd have to shoot her, because Section 31 would no doubt arrange a gruesome 'accident' for her and probably give me a stern talking to.
"Nothing quite so glamorous," I told her, laughing a little. "I was trying to find someone to manufacture my omni-tool design in large numbers and assist in distribution. An independent world with a large industrial base and relationships with all the major powers in the quadrant would be ideal for my needs. Getting them to produce a product made by a human in such large numbers, who isn't even part of the Federation, is a different matter, however."
Section 31 was very good at what it did and was extremely thorough. If she or anyone else, the likely culprits being Starfleet Intelligence, Odo, and Commander Sisko, tried to verify what I'd just told her she'd find that a mid-level government bureaucrat of a nearby independent world with suitable industrial base would swear to his many gods that we'd had a long, but sadly unproductive meeting. In addition to creating the entire suite of customs documents on that planet to show that I arrived and departed, I was told 31 had even arranged for false sensor telemetry showing my ship's travel to the planet to be input into all the corresponding sensor networks that could have likely noticed me. Section 31 was very good at what they did.
"A shame, I like these omni-tools," Ro commented, looking at her own strapped to her left forearm. "I know Neela loved getting hers and uses it all the time in her duties. She said she has no idea how she did without it before!"
Well, I needed to keep close tabs on Neela these days and her omni-tool was trackable, with an upgraded sensor suite to record things, and before the end of this season I'd be glad of that. Each omni-tool had a person connected to it, an identity or number in cell phone terms, and they worked like ones too in that you could send text messages, funny pictures, videos, as well as make local network or galactic network subspace calls if you hooked it up to a ship's or station's larger communications systems. The idea for that and the modifications necessary for it to work that way had actually come from Jadzia. This allowed for both public and more secure channels of portable communications that could be worn and carried with you at all times. Since they were hooking into the already existing local and planetary comms system infrastructure, I didn't need to create cell towers or switch facilities or anything of the like. Before people had to go to their quarters or homes to make subspace calls, now a holo projection of the caller would show up and the built in camera and microphone would allow the wearer to be seen and heard if they wanted. This was just another feature that would make the omni-tool the must have piece of tech in the quadrant. Of course they could also use it to search this dimension's version of the internet too.
"Not to worry, my girls will always have the latest model that I can produce from my own industrial replicator. As for the numbers I need to build to sell to the quadrant, Quark is working as my business agent," I assured my Bajoran babe. "He'll find me someone within the Ferengi Alliance to produce my omni-tools en masse. The Ferengi have a ridiculous capacity for manufacturing, sales and distribution and would be the perfect partner for me, especially since they sell to everyone."
I had my own industrial replicator on the island, but even if that had been enough to produce the amount of desired omni-tools, which it wasn't, as even my conservative projections required millions of units for my first production run, I still needed a sales force to sell them and a veritable fleet of ships to transport and distribute the completed product to the furthest reaches of the quadrant. Hence why I needed an advanced industrial world as they had fleets of cargo ships, or at the least had agreements in place already with a lot of cargo ship companies and owners.
Not that I had to worry about that as Quark had actually come through in a big way and had already arranged a meeting with the Grand Nagus himself to discuss a potential deal. Of course, I couldn't tell Ro that since she'd wonder why I was looking for an independent planet to make them. But even if she did find out I could simply say I'd been looking for alternatives and trying to get a sense for what a fair deal was to better negotiate with the Ferengis.
"Are you sure that's wise?" Ro asked dubiously. "I don't trust those trolls even a little."
These days Bajorans didn't tend to care for any aliens all that much. Not that I really blamed them, but many of them I'd met had loathed Quark's race more than was fair. Perhaps it was because Bajorans were a spiritual people, and Quark's lot were very material. Sure, the Federation were godless heathens, which wasn't so odd when you remembered how many so called gods one version or the other of the Enterprise crew had met and somehow killed, but we at least were nice to the Bajorans and were assisting in their rebuilding. I, though an alien, was a hero of the Occupation and had helped drive the Cardassians out. The Ferengi, on the other hand, had been one of many races which had sold various things to the Cardassians and Quark himself had owned his bar even during the Occupation. So perhaps they did have some good reasons.
"They're a race with a big enough industrial base to supply and distribute to the entire quadrant. Very few independent governments can claim that," I told her. "And I know the omni-tools are going to be huge."
Plus I had a ton of ideas for new future models and upgrades stretching decades into the future. Like those fast replicated holo blades they have in ME3. That might get those crinkle headed fuckers interested. As time went by it'd be important to constantly innovate, though I'd likely get to the point where I'd start up a company on Bajor and create an R&D department to come up with new ideas. As I owned the patent on the technology other companies would need to pay me to build add on modules to my omni-tools.
"Well, I need to go take shower," I told Ro. "Care to join me?" I asked with a little wink and grin.
I gave her ass a quick slap to encourage her to make the right choice to which she only giggled, running playfully ahead of me into the sonic shower, shedding clothes as she went.
(Line Break)
(lemon start)
Gothic's Quarters. Deep Space Nine
"Shhh... You don't need to talk... Just relax and let me handle everything... You've been working too hard and deserve a break... I'll make you feel so good... Just follow my lead," Ro was saying between soft kisses.
I saw her smiling at me with that look of love and devotion in her eyes, and submission too, which was sometimes both incredibly arousing and worrying. She, apparently, thought I was working too hard and need some... stress relief. That sounded lovely.
Part of me didn't mind what was going on, thinking that having the sexy as hell alien woman who acted like a fuck toy for me was loads of fun. But I was still human enough to worry about how much control I had over other people, especially my girls. Then I stopped caring because there was a beautiful naked and horny woman touching me. We all enjoyed the way our relationship worked and it was consensual in every aspect, even in my tendency to dominate them to their great delight.
I felt Ro's arms slipping around me to my front, her breasts moving delightfully across my skin as they kept in contact with my body. She was standing in front of me now, arms around my neck as she pressed herself into my chest, a sultry smirk on her face as she looked up at me.
She just continued to look deeply into my eyes for a while before leaning forward and lightly pressing her lips onto mine. The kiss was gentle at first, barely more than a peck on the lips before it started to deepen and I automatically looped my arms around the Bajoran woman's waist, pulling her tightly to me as she grabbed the back of my head and began threading her fingers through my short, dark, thick hair. She continued to kiss me deeply like that, our tongues intertwining.
Pressing herself flush into me and rubbing up and down, I felt her nipples harden in response while her left hand let go of my head. I wasn't really paying much attention to it as it slipped between our bodies, but I was still surprised when her delicate fingers wrapped themselves gently around my already hard-as-diamond cock.
I shuddered at the light touch, my eyes glazing over for a moment. I was finding this all very pleasurable, the variable sonic waves of the shower continuing to vibrate our skin a nice combination. After that I didn't pay much attention to what her hand did as I had something I wanted to do oh so badly.
My hands reached down now to grip her ass tightly, my fingers digging deep, as I kneaded the flesh roughly, pulling the cheeks apart and pushing them together, my fingers almost disappearing into the soft tissue. Her continuing moans of pleasure telling me she was greatly enjoying what I was doing. I could tell that she'd put on some weight recently and hadn't been exercising as often, not surprising given her desk job, but having some meat on her bones only made her that much more sexy. She'd been a little too skinny before, as so many Bajorans were after the Occupation.
I let one of my hands move to her front to explore her now soaking wet cunt, which she kept completely shaved for my approval, as all my girls did. She was nice and wet, judging by how easily a finger and then another slipped inside her moist heat.
A moment passed as both of us stayed like that, my back against the wall, her hand pumping my cock and my fingers moving in her cunt. However it didn't last, as she stepped back just a little and was soon leaving trailing kisses from my mouth down to my neck, then she started planting kisses all the way around my collarbone, then down my chest, before stopping at my waist.
"Now that you've had time to enjoy the appetizer, Gothic, I think you might want to move on to the main course," Ro whispered sultrily.
Moment later she was falling to her knees on the floor in front of me, her hot breath ticking my balls. I felt her light fingers grip my shaft and pumping it up and down, while massaging my balls ever so gently. Her hot breath on my dick was so sexy, but I almost jumped through the fucking ceiling when she suddenly pulled back, so that she could smother my cock with her large perky tits. She had much bigger ones than the actress who played her on TV, though her face was exactly the same as that actress.
"Do you like this, my general?" Ro asked seductively, as she rubbed her tits up and down my shaft, her own hands pressing her tits together to keep my cock in place. "Do you like having your huge cock massaged by my big Bajoran tits?"
The tip of my cock became visible through her tits moments before it was quickly inside her mouth, her tongue circling the head or lashing it like a snake. It was pure bliss, no other words described it, as I groaned and grunted with each stroke up and down through her fleshy tits as this continued on for a good few minutes.
Then she did look at me with a downright evil smirk, obviously sensing I was close as she increased her pace, ensuring that things rapidly came to an end as I made her tits and beautiful face very messy with my cum. Lucky for her we were already in the shower.
"I have to get back to work," she told me after she got back to her feet and gave me a loving kiss. "And you need to go see Sisko; he requested you come by upon your return to the station. Apparently, he's a little upset that you left the station without telling him, but I think he just wanted your help with those strange aliens. The 'Waddi' I think they were called."
Oh, damn it! I'd missed the Waddi episode. Those game loving aliens from the Gamma Quadrant with that incredibly unique spatial compression technology. I'd so wanted a chance to look at their tech and take some sensor readings in the hope I could recreate it or buy it from them. This was the problem of having no true way to determine when one episode would begin in this timeline. Oh well, maybe I'd go and find some new boobs to look at. I had been working hard, after all. I deserved a treat, but that would have to wait until the deal with the Nagus was done.
[Lemon end]
(Line Break)
Sisko's Office. Deep Space Nine.
The commander of the station took a firm grip on his iconic baseball as he spied the general climbing up the steps to his office wearing weapons on his person. As far as he could tell, the General never went anywhere unarmed and was always spotted at least wearing that unknown, but extremely deadly looking energy pistol on his right hip attached to a quick draw magnetic holster. On his left hip was a sinister looking sheathed combat knife with a button actuator that no one understood the function of. And on his left arm he wore that new omni-tool he had designed and which was now being worn by several other people on the station who swore the things were the greatest new must have tool. At least he wasn't wearing that sword and rifle on his back this time. Or armor, like Klingon warriors were wont to do.
Sisko had asked around and no one had seen any of these particular weapons used during the Occupation, so he had no idea what their capabilities were. For all Sisko knew the General had designed the weapons himself, as the man was extremely wealthy, owned his own ship and large private island on Bajor with quite a home he'd heard, and was a prolific and successful holonovel author and inventor. Odo had complained a few times about the General always being armed on the Station yet not part of his security staff, but as a General in the Bajoran Militia and in command of all off-world forces and installations, which included this station on paper, the man had every right to be armed here. After Kira had bragged about Gothic's island, and its white sandy beaches, temperate weather and crystal clear waters, both Jake and Jennifer were badgering him to take Gothic up on his standing offer to a vacation there. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
The man had stopped for a moment to exchange a few words and a smile with someone Sisko couldn't see from this angle in Ops, most likely Major Kira or Dax, and that gave the officer a moment to gather his thoughts before this meeting.
He was concerned about this man and needed to make sure that the augment understood who ultimately ran things around here. It wasn't about power, Sisko didn't care much about that sort of thing, he was worried about his command over this station being undermined and how that could effect his career.
Sisko had never really worried that much about augments, or had much of an opinion about them at all. In fact, until coming to Deep Space Nine he wasn't even sure if he'd ever even met an actual augment, human or otherwise, though he knew he'd certainly never met a Khan-era augment given how long it'd been since that time. Sure, augments weren't allowed to join Starfleet, but there were plenty of prominent civilian roles they could be filling and that he had interacted with during his career without him ever becoming aware or even noticing.
Then he'd met General Gothic and now he was caught between wondering if it was right to keep augments out of Starfleet and public office or if the Federation was wasting incredibly valuable resources. He couldn't decide which was right. The man was undeniably dangerous given his raw physical power and genius-level intellect. Stories of Gothic's bloody victories over the Cardassians were common knowledge, including what some would consider war crimes inside the Federation. On the other hand he wasn't a despot convinced of his own superiority and wishing to rule them all like Khan had been. In addition to being an extremely dangerous man, he was quite a skilled author and inventor as well and quite a ladies' man if the rumors were true.
Sisko had read all the files he could get on the Occupation, including classified reports held in the Provisional Government's archives. While the Cardassians painted the General as a vicious war criminal and unrepentant monster, to the Bajorans who'd fought alongside him he was a war hero out of recent legend blessed by the Prophets to lead them to victory. Someone whose actions and valor, strategies and tactics, were credited with some of their most important victories which led to the end of the Occupation.
He'd exchanged a few words on the matter with Major Kira who had been part of Gothic's Resistance cell in the latter half of the Occupation. She'd not gushed unearned praise, though it was clear she deeply respected and admired him, instead she'd mentioned how brutal and effective he was during the Occupation, but also how he'd always argued against putting civilian in unnecessary danger. He'd scared both sides with terrible acts of unbridled violence and brutality in his campaigns against the Cardassians, though everyone had admitted how effective it had been to finally put the fear into the Cardassians, rather than the other way around. His brutality had made the Cardassians fear them, and that meant they could be defeated. Interestingly, Sisko knew that same violent and brutal man had been giving a lot of his personal money to Bajoran charities tasked with helping the poor and disenfranchised during the rebuilding. And the Kai of Bajor trusted him. That was quite an endorsement.
Gothic was a very hard man to understand. A mess of contradictions.
"General, thank you for coming to meet with me. I'll come straight to the point, I wanted to talk to you about leaving the station without letting me know," Sisko said as the augment entered his office. "I know I can't order you to file mission reports or flight plans, but I don't want high ranking members of the Militia leaving or coming to the station without me at least knowing about it."
An ultimately minor concern that didn't really require a face-to-face meeting, but the commander knew it was important to reinforce the fact that he was in charge.
The smile on Gothic's face smoothed out into a small frown.
"I had no idea my personal movements were of such concern to you, Commander," Gothic said with an even tone and a tight smile. "Let me be frank. As I acknowledged from day one, you are in command of this station. The security of Bajor requires that a Federation officer be visibly and effectively in command to prevent powers like the Cardassians from thinking they can return to reclaim Bajor with impunity. In that manner the Federation's presence here, in the form or your command of the station and the many Starfleet personnel stationed here, is a powerful shield and deterrent to that happening," explained the General, his next words turning cold and precise in tone. "The hundreds of Bajoran Militia personnel stationed onboard this station will follow your orders without contravention by me, though I am, at least on paper, their ultimate commanding officer. That being said, I and my adjutant, Major Ro Laren, are not a part of this station's chain of command or under your direct command. My movements are none of your concern, especially when I am acting in my official capacity as a General in the Bajoran Militia in command of all of Bajor's off-world forces and installations."
Sisko frowned at this. Was this the start of a power struggle between them? This was a Bajoran installation and the Federation was on this station only at the invitation of the Bajoran government, if there was a power struggle Gothic was in the right according to Federation policy and Bajoran law. This train of thought was interrupted by Gothic's next statement.
"In the interests of maintaining and continuing our good working relationship, as a courtesy and out of respect to you, I will endeavor to follow the same arrival and departure regulations and protocols when I am acting in my individual and personal capacity by requesting departure clearance and filing an appropriate flight plan with station Operations. That should be enough of a notification of when I intend to leave and return to the station. When I am acting in my official capacity, if circumstances permit, I will do the same, however that is at my sole discretion," Gothic conceded to the man.
"I can live with that," Sisko responded slowly. "I apologize if I overreached with my request. This duty assignment has been strange for me and I am still figuring things out."
"We will have to work together for a long time to come, Commander, and I suspect there will be many trials ahead. Courtesy and mutual respect for each other will be the key to a good working relationship long into the future," Gothic offered in answer, his tone conciliatory. "If that is all, I'll take my leave. Good day, Commander."
With that the Augment left Sisko's office. He had a lot to think about.
(Line Break)
Island Fortress. Bajor.
While the Grand Nagus was on his way to the station, it was a long trip to Bajor from the Ferengi Alliance after all, I had some time to kill. My duties left me with plenty of free time since I had a great adjutant and could handle my personal workload very quickly given my unique capabilities.
I decided to make use of this time by traveling back to Bajor and spending some time in my holo design and fabrication workshop on the island or my 'evil mad scientist lair' as my girls had jokingly called it. Several of my projects had been in limbo for a while with my duties on the station and the recent Section 31 mission.
The first order of business was to dump the memory core of my armor systems and omni-tool into my main computer's database's most secure storage archives for safekeeping. The Section 31 mission records needed to be scrubbed entirely from my personal armor and omni-tool and kept exclusively on the island. Prophets knew what kind of damage those records could do in the wrong hands. In the event of a system breach they were designed to immediately scrub all black-level designated data first. Since Commander Data was the chief architect of my computer systems, I was pretty sure that intrusion was highly unlikely, but even if it should come to pass, that data was going to be completely unrecoverable.
Then I transferred all the design schematics for the Cardassian weapons and the Galor-class ship to the main database as well as the computer systems on the Flighty Temptress, which was sitting in the main hanger bay at the moment. I may need that information in some future engagement, especially once the Cardassians joined the Dominion, before that time, however, I needed to task the computer with running a series of battle simulations set between the Flighty Temptress, which my computer already knew the full capabilities of, and a Galor-class ship to determine the best attack strategy and strike points.
I leaned back in my chair, my mind running through various scenarios.
"Scarlett, load the Galor-class design schematics. Conduct a series of battle simulations between my ship and the Galor-class. Analyze and compile a report on optimum battle strategies and weak points in that ship's shield designs. Also suggest optimum weapon frequencies and discharge patterns to most efficiently overcome the Galor-class shields," I spoke aloud to the computer giving my orders. With these simulation results I should be much better off should I come toe-to-toe with a Galor-class ship in the future, and hopefully other classes of Cardassian ships since there was always some commonalities in the way a race designed their shields.
One of my recently completed projects had required that I interface with Earth's historical archives. My computer's female voice on the Temptress wasn't bad, per se, but the actress Scarlett Johansson from my time had just the sexiest fucking voice that you wouldn't mind hearing all day long. Do you know how often I spoke with my computer? Using several of her movies for voice samples, it had been easy to compile a full voice matrix and use that for my computer's voice here on the island, in my office on the station, on my omni-tool and armor, and on the Flighty Temptress. I had even programmed the computer to respond to the name 'Scarlett' the same way as 'computer' did before. My girls had given me quite the stink eye the first time they'd heard Scarlett's sexy smoky voice responding to one of their inquiries on my ship. I just laughed my ass off. And her voice matrix was so good the computer's responses sounded relatively conversational, instead of robotic and cold, like you saw in the shows.
"Understood, Gothic. Simulation parameters complete. Program now running. Time to completion, six hours," Scarlett responded in that sexy sweet voice of hers.
With that simulation running in the background, I turned my attention to the sensor readings my systems had recorded on my rifle and handgun's performance during this latest mission. For newly designed prototypes they had performed magnificently in my opinion. What I had learned from the Collector weapons that I had reverse engineered and the information in that stolen database I used for my own purposes had been a godsend. That data had been instrumental in achieving that success, along with the thousands upon thousands of simulations I had run on each version of the design to spot problems early on. Sparing no expense in each weapons' materials also helped a lot.
I set up another series of simulations to run on the weapons' performance and long-term viability with this new live fire sensor data for the computer to work with. These simulations should be more accurate with the new data and give me a better understanding of the power cell discharge and recharge rates and what components might wear out first when placed under prolonged battle stress conditions during wartime. Once I had those results in hand I could make some changes, if needed, and produce spare parts to be stored on my ship and a few extra rifles and handguns to be kept there and on my island. Only a fool would keep only one set of his weapons. Combat and battle were unpredictable fucking things and keeping extras on hand was only prudent.
The HUD programming was still an uncompleted project, though. My programming skills just weren't strong enough to get the job done. I really needed to contact Commander Data and see if he could work on my HUD design for my armor. My stealth drones would have been invaluable on this latest mission too. Initially I had planned on only using the augmented reality HUD display while the armor's helmet was deployed, in other words during active combat, but with my armor's already existing and always on mental connection via the neural interface based on my ship's design, it really wouldn't be all that hard to augment reality via direct mental connection without the helmet being up. The tech wasn't even that advanced. That addictive game that had nearly taken over the Enterprise in TNG had shown it wasn't that hard to add a visual layer over what the eyes could see. In this case, it'd be taking what my eyes could see, running it through a database or running a calculation of some sort, and then outputting it back over my vision to assist me or give me additional information. Yeah, maybe it was a bit more advanced than that game, but the underlying principles were the same.
Too many projects and not enough time; that was the story of my fucking life these days, though some projects were suffering from a lack of some critical material, like the decalithium needed to make my own red matter. The programming and database lookups would be the hardest and most time consuming part, but Data would likely do it in a tenth of the time it'd take me to do it and probably do it way better than my expectations. The targeting programs would be relatively simple math and would use the armor sensor data. Fuck it, what was I waiting for? Yeah, I didn't want to become reliant on Data's help, but I didn't have the time or the skill to do this right myself. Best to admit my limitations.
"Scarlett, begin recording a subspace communiqué to send to Commander Data, second officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise once finished."
With that command I recorded a message to Data, laying out exactly what I was looking for and providing him a description of my armor's capabilities to build upon and asking for his help in programming a HUD interface that could work with my armor's neural interface, even providing some science fiction references, both book and films that existed here, to give Data another source of material to base it on. Knowing Data he'd respond as soon as he was off duty with technical information requests after having thoroughly reviewed my message and the books and films I'd referenced in 1.1 seconds, which to an android was like an eternity. Data had told me several times already he always enjoyed my requests as it allowed him a diverting intellectual challenge separate from his normal duties that required research into a myriad number of topics. I reiterated that I owed him one and that he and the senior staff of the Enterprise were always welcome to have their shore leave on my private island at any time. I also offered to outfit him and the senior staff with their own omni-tools free of charge the next time I was onboard.
With that I turned my attention to a new project I had already started and nearly finished designing while traveling at warp these last few days, and that was to build my own minigun design. Seeing the utter devastation it wrought gave me a burning desire to have my own, though I really had no need for one that actually fired projectiles, regardless of how effective it was at psychological warfare. No, this was not going to be a replica of the one used by the Cleaners, this would be a much more modern version. Yes, it would still have six barrels of spinning death and destruction, but out of them would come deadly phaser blasts at a similarly insane rate of fire.
I was actually borrowing quite heavily from the design fundamentals of the original M134 for ideas, which had been designed in 1960, and featured a six barrel rotary machine gun, firing 7.62mm NATO rounds with an extreme rate of fire of 2,000 to 4,000 rounds per minute. Some sources said the system was capable of 6,000 rounds per minute, but the system was supposedly notoriously unreliable at that rate. The reason behind that speed was a powerful electric motor. Films like Terminator 2 weren't realistic in the sense that this weapon did require an external power source, so it was almost always deployed in vehicles on fixed mounts. And no matter how cool, it was still a gun firing bullets really fast, thus the weapon still had a shit ton of recoil to deal with, especially with all those rounds being fired. The thing also weighed 85 pounds with no ammo and required a ridiculous amount of on-hand ammunition to fire for any appreciable length of time, so it was never intended to be man portable. Though, admittedly, Arnold was a cyborg, so the weight and recoil wasn't a big issue for him, but the other shit was.
My minigun was being designed with the intent of taking down entire groups of Jem'hadar or Klingons in short order. I'd be rather shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that virtually no one wore more than light armor in this galaxy.
As my design wasn't replicating thousands of rounds of actual ammunition on the spot, every minute, it didn't require a micro-replicator or a Collector power cell, though a cooling system was a great idea. It would still require an extremely powerful power cell, but those power demands were well within the realm of current Federation tech. Really it was little more than the six phaser rifle barrels linked together in a circle around a central point. While those barrels spun, only one barrel would fire at a time. It could fire a short pulse burst, or go full auto for about 3,000 phaser bolts per minute. It could even fire a single continuous beam from all six barrels at once, rather than only one. On continuous beam mode the barrels wouldn't spin at all. Unfortunately this would quickly drain the weapon's power cell. So you could get maybe get about 60 seconds of continuous beam output before completely draining the power cell. Simulations showed that the sustained energy demand of a continuous beam quickly depleted the cell, but the smaller produced bolts, though numerous, were much less energy intensive and you could fire on full auto for quite a while. Weight of fire would eliminate most unarmored to lightly armored targets, like bodies. You could even set the weapon from stun, to heavy stun, to kill, or even vaporize.
Such a weapon should also be able to take small craft too, like shuttles, which weren't known for armor or very strong shields. And unlike the version used by the Cleaners my phaser minigun would not violate the Geneva Convention!
I was pretty pleased with the final design all told, to which I added all my normal bells and whistles, like a scope, a power cell meter, and a bio metric lock to prevent unauthorized usage, etc. It was still a heavy mother fucker at 50 pounds, a lot of that weight in the six linked power cells the weapon required. It was also smaller than the M134 it was based on, with a shorter set of barrels, though still a bit bulky. It was a deadly weapon in a target rich environment and could even take down small craft. To allow for better portability I added a heavy duty strap to tie onto my back and a carrying handle, though ideally it'd attach to my back harness in the spot of my main rifle. The weapon also had an integrated bipod that could be deployed in the field to steady the weapon and a hard point to attach to the doorway or cargo ramp of the Flighty Temptress. I could see it now, one of my girls piloting the Temptress, while I stood in the doorway of the ship, raining down deadly fire on enemy positions on the ground, looking like a total badass the whole time.
Wait, why was Kira now on her knees blowing me as I'm mowing down Jem'hadar?
(Line Break)
Quark's Bar. Deep Space Nine.
Grand Nagus Zek was not an imposing man, even if the several Ferengi who worked for Quark, as well as the bartender himself, acted as if he was. Even Zek's manservant didn't seem like much of a physical threat. Which made me wonder how the old wrinkly alien protected himself from assassins? The man probably had a ton of enemies who'd wish him dead for a hundred different reasons. But such curiosities could wait.
Right now I had to focus on the business meeting that was about to take place, though more accurately it was more akin to an introduction, a preliminary get to know you meeting before the real meeting took place in the days ahead and the wheeling and dealing began. Nothing of import would be decided here today. The Nagus, who carried his staff of office in one hand and a pile of data padds under the other arm, made his way to the head of the big table which Quark had prepared for this meeting.
My business agent for this transaction, and our host, was clearing the bar of its few patrons. It was still quite early in the day so aside from the wait staff the only people here were Morn, no surprise there, and a few Bajoran visitors to the station. They were quickly gotten out of the way.
The table had been prepared with various refreshments. A good mixture of non-replicated food and drink was available, all very high quality, some obviously meant for the Ferengi pallet, some for humans of Earth origin, but I declined. It was best not to get distracted. I might be an augment, but I was dealing with a Ferengi with a keen mind, with many, many years of experience making these sort of deals, who was almost certainly the wealthiest and most powerful Ferengi in the known galaxy. So if I wanted to make a good deal for myself and profit fully from this arrangement I had to keep my wits about me. The better a deal I made, the wealthier and more powerful I'd be, and in turn the better I could potentially help Bajor in the future.
In addition to Quark as my business agent, I had hired the best lawyers and advisors money could buy and who were here on the station ready to assist me in all aspects of this deal, though this particular introduction and get to know you was for Zek and myself only, as the leaders of our respective delegations. Quark was present here in his capacity as our host only. My lawyers had been instrumental in successfully patenting the onni-tool design and technology with every major power in the quadrant who would respect such things in the past year. They were going to earn every bit of their fees in the days to come as Ferengi laws were rather different than those of the Federation, luckily there were experts on both out there that I could hire. I had hired a crack team of lawyer and advisors, human, Bajoran, Vulcan, and even Ferengi to assist me with this deal. I was no legal or business expert, and I was wise enough to understand that. They were worth every credit and slip of latinum I was paying them for their advice and guidance.
My team of advisors and lawyers were here in another part of the bar with Zek's team getting to know each other before things really started up. Even if this deal wasn't to be made, Zek always traveled with a large entourage. He was, after all, the head of a small, but still quite powerful government. As such he always had numerous advisers and people around him to carry out his will. Studio budgets tended to limit how many actors they could have dressed up as aliens in each episode, real life didn't have those kinds of limitations.
However, I kept my focus on Zek as one of his minions handed out one of the datapadds the Grand Nagas had been carrying to myself and Quark. Although Quark was here at the moment as our host, he was still my business agent and was provided a padd as a courtesy as he wasn't available to mingle with the other advisors.
He was only getting a half percent commission for his work on this deal, which promised to be a huge amount of money, but I was sure he'd find a way to further skim from the profits, like he was with my holonovels. As long as it was a reasonable amount and his greed didn't get away from him, I wouldn't kick up a fuss. Both his commission for my holonovels and what he'd get from this deal had a rather vicious contract clause allowing me to audit the deal at any time. Any skimming found would require its repayment at a rather large compound interest rate. In other words, I had Quark by the balls and could call for that audit and repayment at any time, thus I had the leverage to exact favors from him long into the future. That worked just fine for me as the man did have many contacts, many that wouldn't deal with a human but would deal with him. The man always managed to hear such interesting things and I wanted those things to be passed on to me.
There were reasons why I had hired Quark and several Ferengi attorneys to represent me. As the 17th Rule of Acquisition stated, "A contract is a contract is a contract, but only between Ferengi." With Quark involved, even tangentially, especially since he had a relationship with the Nagus himself, I was far less likely to get ripped off.
Plus I could use the bar for meetings, rather than my official office, so when I make deals like this other people won't feel like that they are dealing with a high ranking Bajoran military officer. If this means they underestimate me, all the better.
Then there were the discounts and privileges Quark gave me at the bar. He always made sure there was a holosuite free for me. And he shared gossip, which was always a good source of information on this station.
Perhaps later, when I had more contacts of my own, and had done something about Bajoran's virtually non-existent off-world intelligence network, I could phase Quark out of things, but for now I needed him.
Making a ton of money on this deal would mean more power over my own life, more independence, more choice, and a much better chance for survival long-term. It'd also give me the option to be more generous in aiding Bajor in its recovery in the years to come.
I'd promised the Kai that I'd help her people and I intended to keep my word. Bajor had opened its arms to me and welcomed me. It was my home now. A man who doesn't try to keep his word has no honor. Unlike many Klingon warriors, I did have some honor and tried to live that way, even when inconvenient.
This deal also had the benefit of increasing and spreading my influence. Here I was, meeting with a head of state after all. No augment since Khan himself had wielded the kind of power I now had legitimately, and since I wasn't ruling directly no one considered me a despot or tyrant. What happened to me when Bajor joined the Federation was anyone's guess.
"So you're the ooman who authored all those successful holonovels," the Grand Nagus remarked idly.
Of course he'd researched me. Just as I had studied him. For example, I knew that the Grand Nagus was the leader of the Ferengi Alliance. He was both the political leader of the species as well as the economic leader, since for the Ferengi there was little to no difference between those two things.
Virtually all decisions that affected the Ferengi Alliance required the approval of the Grand Nagus, whose power were supported by the Ferengi Bill of Opportunities and was backed by the Board of Liquidators, whom the infamous 'Brunt,' who appeared in the show several times, was a member of.
The Grand Nagus could even overrule the decisions of the Ferengi Commerce Authority, pretty much the entire government, if he so chose, such as in matters of business license revocation.
The Grand Nagus's offices were located in the Tower of Commerce on Ferenginar, where he presided over the Alliance from the Chamber of Opportunity. Petitioners regularly sought to speak to the Grand Nagus to solicit advice on business ventures and decisions. In doing so, they were required to pay their respects, literally, in the form of money. Advice doesn't come cheap, especially from someone as successful as Zek.
"Yes, Grand Nagus," I replied, making the effort to address the man with the same level of respect as I would Bajor's First Minister or a Starfleet Admiral. "Have you enjoyed my works?"
I didn't think as badly of the Ferengi as many modern humans in the Federation did these days. In my opinion the humans were worse than the Ferengi. Oh, the Federation types might claim we'd evolved from our barbaric past, but as Sisko himself had once said, 'It's easy to be a saint in paradise.' Take that paradise away and humanity could make the most bloodthirsty Klingon look like an angry puppy. The Terran Empire was proof of this.
"Well, I'm not one for action stories, but I certainly respect good sales," Zek replied, offering the Ferengi version of a compliment. "Have you ever considered writing holonovels of a more... erotic nature?"
Wow, he was good. Zek was trying to unsettle me, or get a read on me in comparison to the humans he was used to dealing with in the Federation. Alas it would not work, unlike most humans, I had zero issue with sex, even in a holo setting. To each their own, I felt.
"No, I don't think my writing style is particularly well suited for a purely erotic holonovel, however many of my programs do offer the user to engage in a romantic relationship with the various character in the context of the overall story, which could result in sex if the user desired it. My standard holomatrix is adaptive enough to allow that," I answered simply, offering my truthful opinion on the subject. "To each their own, I say, though I personally prefer live sexual partners."
The Nagus furrowed his brow in thought at my answer, his attempt to unsettle me having failed and quickly changed the subject. Not that I was offended by it, in my view having sex with a hologram was a bit strange and somewhat akin to an advanced form of masturbation, but I had no issues with those that enjoyed that.
"On to business then," he said. "The purpose of this preliminary meeting is first, to meet and get to know each other, the two principals involved in this potential deal, and second to ensure we mutually understand each other's goals and what each can offer the other. Ultimately, you wish to use Ferengi industry to mass produce and distribute these omni-tool devices to planets across the quadrant. While it would take several large business concerns working together at full capacity to achieve the number of units your first production run requires, the number and timeline to produce the units and transport them is something we can provide, for a price. However, we must ensure that there is actual demand for this before we go to full scale production, as I doubt you wish to pay each unit's full costs upfront, before being sold."
I'd imagined him saying something like that. I'd prepared for this meeting like how I prepared for a Section 31 mission. Only this time words would be my weapons and cleverness and cunning my armor.
"I've already begun generating interest and demand within Starfleet," I told the Grand Nagas. "And since I intend to equip the Bajoran off-world militia with this device, you can be sure that the main body of the militia will also want to be equipped, as well as the Starfleet personnel onboard this station. With the Bajoran personnel on this station wearing them daily, they'll serve as walking advertisements to the many visitors coming here each day to visit the Gamma quadrant."
I'd have to ensure a decent discount for the Bajoran militia, but that fine detail could wait until we were working on the details of the contract.
"However, the Federation will be my main market," I said to the Grand Nagus. "The omni-tool is more than a simple tool, it combines a tricorder, a communications device, and a personal computer in one portable and wearable device. It will be invaluable to Starfleet for their away teams alone; they will want them. Even the average Federation citizen will like the idea of an easily portable computer and communications device with some scanning capabilities, for scientific purposes. You know how much the Federation loves its science."
That last remark caused a few chuckles.
"I predict sales in the millions, maybe even billions of units," I told the aliens. "I see the future, Grand Nagus, and I can foresee a time when every adult person in the Alpha Quadrant, at a minimum, has an omni-tool on their forearm."
They certainly did in Mass Effect and those games were giving me many great ideas for upgrades down the line.
My Mass Effect holonovel, should I ever get around to finishing it, would be inadvertently advertising my product.
"And I have future plans for multiple models at different price points, from simple to advanced, from bare bones to luxury item. After an appropriate amount of time, when the quadrant has come to enjoy my invention and is clamoring for more, I have upgrades in mind that will outclass the existing generation of devices. This will keep the profits coming in for many years to come," I said. "Of course the prototype model I've already produced myself in limited numbers to test the market demand is inferior to the model I hope you'll mass produce, and that model has been very well received."
The first model I'd produce and release would be basic, the Ferengi would make it as cheap as possible to produce and thus for people to buy and get used to and hooked on, but it would also be easy to personally customize with additional modules I'd sell. If I involved them in more than just production and distribution, but in the sales end as well, I imagined that he'd sell them in bulk and let the various governments or groups that bought the devices decide who got them. That was how I'd do it, but how they'd be sold would need to be something I approved and formalized in this deal.
In time, I'd update the design and release the second generation omni-tool, like new models of cells phones used to be released in my old dimension, using methods I'd perfected while building custom models for some of the people here on the station. I'd done that to generate interest and to earn some goodwill.
With that said, I think Zek and I now understood each other and the serious talk was over. He seemed intrigued and excited at the possibilities. The rest of the evening was spent eating and drinking and sharing stories to get to know one another. The dozen or so omni-tools I'd brought were soon being played with and I had quite a bit of fun demonstrating what they could do and why I thought they'd sell well. Tomorrow all our lawyers and advisors would be involved with hammering out a deal that both sides could live with. Once we were in agreement, the deal would be formalized and signed. This was going to be the work of many long, long days, I'm sure.
(Line Break)
Promenade. Deep Space Nine.
It was now late evening and the preliminary talks were over for the day, both sides resting in preparation for the meeting tomorrow. As an augment I didn't require much sleep, so I was currently standing on the second level looking down to the lower level as a ship full of people from the Core Worlds of the Federation (Earth, Andor, Vulcan and so on), though mostly humans, but a few other races too, departed the transport.
Basically, I was girl watching, but not in the harmless and juvenile way Jake and Nog did in the show. I was like a lion stalking juicy bisons, hunting for the perfect someone to seduce tonight. This might seem creepy and wrong, since I did have a 'harem' of beautiful Bajoran babes. If I had to label what we had, though, the closest name would be 'friends with benefits,' though it was a lot more than that. They knew that I pursued other women to sleep with, and almost certainly knew about Dax and I given Kira and her constantly worked together, but thankfully they didn't do the same. Yes, it wasn't exactly fair on my part, but I had never actually stopped them. As things evolved I could easily see us becoming something more. Thankfully my enhanced libido and stamina and wealth meant I could keep up with all of them and spoiled them when we were together.
Alas, my prey were not all juicy. Human women might not be sexually repressed in this day and age, but the current fashions of this time seemed to be aimed at making them seem totally unsexy. No short skirts, no low cut tops, no form fitting clothes.
Then my eyes were drawn to a lovely body, wearing a skirt a bit too long, but it was better than what everyone else was wearing. She also wore a blouse which showed some decent cleavage. And those were some lovely boobs, pretty big and perky, and oddly familiar. I was more of a butt than a boob guy, but breasts were important too and I was almost certain I'd played with those boobs before. Who could that be?
Hold on, that was Annika freaking Hansen, aka Seven of Nine, who in this time, due to the Borg having been defeated centuries ago, had never been assimilated and become a drone. Instead she became a librarian, in love with the past. And I was very much of the past, plus a masterful lover who regularly rendered women unconscious with pleasure.
Now, inexplicably, she was here on DS9, despite her loathing of space travel because her parents, who were explorers, had dragged her into the far reaches of space from a very young age.
She carried a travel bag over one shoulder, and one of those old fashioned cases on wheels. It looked pretty heavy, so perhaps I should offer to carry it for her.
(Line Break)
Replimat. Deep Space Nine.
While Quarks might be one of the few places to go for an evening out with a lady on this station, I'd been stuck in that damn bar all afternoon, so I'd invited Annika to the replimat, and she'd actually shown up on time! Since she was a woman I found this rather unsettling, especially given our somewhat contentious history. Making me wait for a while or even standing me up as a form of petty revenge had definitely not been out of the realm of possibility in my mind.
She'd changed for this date, if that was what this was, into some sort of flower themed dress that looked old fashioned even in my time, but when you had huge perky boobs and an ass so firm coins would bounce off it, you could get away with dressing like an old librarian and still looking drop dead sexy.
We both ordered something using the service of a Bajoran waitress and soon began talking.
"So, why are you all the way out here?" I asked with a smile.
Given her only mild surprise upon seeing me it was clear that she'd known I was in these parts even if she hadn't actually expected to run into me so soon. Annika feared space travel, so her being anywhere that wasn't Earth was pretty strange.
"I've started work towards my doctorate in Literature," she told me as the food arrived, "but I was having trouble finding a research topic to write my dissertation on. On Earth we have so many doctors in so many fields that it's hard to find something that someone hasn't already written a paper or twenty on."
Well, she did live in world of sad conformist hippy nerds.
"But then my boss told me that a University here on Bajor had just reopened and they needed a librarian to help them organize what books they've been recovering," I was now being told. "So I thought 'why not research Bajoran literature for a dissertation topic,' their culture is thousands of years older than Earth's after all."
To me that sounded super boring, but a good area for study given how old and rich Bajoran culture was.
"And I hear Bajor's pretty peaceful these days," she added.
Well, for now yeah, but the Circle would become active sooner or later and then things would be less peaceful for us non-Bajorans. Given my high rank and that I was human, I somehow doubted the xenophobic hate group would be approaching me anytime soon to join them. In fact, I thought it more likely I'd experience an assassination attempt or two, regardless of my reputation and contribution during the Occupation.
"They're rebuilding," was all I said on the matter.
Annika chewed some of her food before speaking again.
"My transport to Bajor won't arrive until tomorrow afternoon," she mentioned offhandedly.
Which meant we might have breakfast together. After spending the night together in a marathon of passion. We'd have to see how things progressed, but I was certainly game. Annika might not be Seven of Nine in personality, but she was one very sexy lady I wouldn't kick out of bad. Oh! Maybe I should set my omni-tool to record any sex that took place! Finally, I'd have my sex tape! Huh…adding a holo imager to my sensor suite on my armor would be pretty useful. I probably had the memory capacity too…
"So, I see the uniform, just what do you do here?" she asked, interrupting my thoughts concerning a holo sex tape.
What I said next made her need a glass of water.
"I'm a General in the Bajoran Militia," I answered.
Yeah, she needed a moment or two to process that.
"A General? But you're human!" she asked and exclaimed incredulously. "Is that like a Starfleet admiral?"
Kind of.
"Technically, I suppose, though it's a bit silly to compare the two given the difference in size. A Bajoran Militia General is close to a Starfleet admiral in rank. A Colonel is akin to a captain, a Major a Commander," I explained. "Since I'm the commander of all off world militia forces and installations that makes me a vice-admiral or thereabout. It's hard to compare ranks because it depends on how the militia becomes structured as it grows and how large it gets in time. I said technically it's akin to a Starfleet Admiral, but Bajor's military is probably as strong as a relatively successful Federation colony, on a good day, so the comparison is a bit screwy."
How the two chains of command stacked up was undecided as of yet. Bajor didn't have enough organization to really even be called a military, though I was advocating a change in name as soon as possible to better legitimize us. Calling us the Bajoran Defense Forces would be better, since there was were really no separate branches, it was all just one big military. Which made no sense and 'militia' just sounded so hokey and unprofessional.
"Wait, so, are you in charge of this entire station?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"On paper I am, but in reality the station is run by Starfleet at the Bajoran government's invitation for various rather important reasons," I responded with yet another qualified answer. "But all the other Bajoran military bases and ships in this system are under my true command."
Which might actually be impressive if they weren't so terrible, though I suppose I was technically in command of those Cardassian freighters I'd stolen during my pirate days.
"So you get to order people around, and they have to do exactly what you say," Annika said with an aroused and interested smirk, her tongue licking her lips slowly now. "Is that fun?"
Well, I'd been ordering people around since I'd gotten off the Enterprise and it could be fun at times. I'd certainly enjoyed sexually dominating my beautiful Bajoran babes both during the Occupation and after, which they certainly enjoyed lately.
"It can be," I answered, my eyes and tone smoldering as I leaned closer to her, "especially with beautiful naughty girls who have to be shown that their place is under me."
It seemed another hot and sexy woman was getting off on the idea of being dominated by General Gothic.
When I felt her starting to play footsie under the table, running her bare foot up and down my leg and up to my thigh, I knew we'd be having breakfast together.