Augment Gothic
Part 37
Holodeck. The Flighty Temptress. En route to Deep Space 9 traveling at warp 9.95.
It had taken a full week out of the three week journey to Deep Space Nine from Earth before the Flighty Temptress was back to the pristine state she should be in considering the ship was less than a month old at this point. Our wild flight through dimensions and pitched battle in the Sol system with the Collectors had done a number on her. B'Elanna was quite pleased to have her baby fully put back together. Even with all the time and hard work it took, with the industrial replicator churning out tons of material, and the holo repair crews working every hour of the day without stop, those first few days after we'd left Earth you couldn't help but notice the small smile she constantly wore on her face as she directed her holographic work crews around to the various problem areas around the ship. I have to admit, it was strangely satisfying to watch as the ship slowly returned to normal. The trail of destruction beginning where the Collectors had penetrated the ship had been near complete. Whole corridors had been destroyed, from the ceiling to the floor, to the side walls leading into other rooms and every vital component nearby. There had literally been holes in the flooring and ship's systems that could drop you into a lower deck.
After the repairs were done, the work hadn't ended there. At B'Elanna's recommendation we had purchased tons of supplies while on Earth, things we wouldn't have been able to get in the quantities and quality anywhere else in the quadrant, well, at least not as easily. All that material had to be carefully inventoried for the next emergency and stored in such a way that it'd be easy to keep track of and find and use when it was next needed. I had given B'Elanna strict instructions to be paranoid and not spare a credit when she made her wish list of supplies, emergency and what not. This quadrant of the galaxy was still likely going to be embroiled in war with the Dominion in a few short years and I had a feeling my own special brand of luck would ensure plenty of conflict. Paranoia was the name of the game here and would hopefully increase our chances of survival.
Now that all the repair work on the ship was complete, she and her holo-engineers were joyously beginning the preparations to start a new project, one that I had long ago got her thinking about. As the shows had shown time and time again shuttlecraft were vitally important and could be incredibly useful in a myriad number of situations. With two weeks of boring travel ahead of us, even at high warp 9.95, it was the perfect time to get started and hopefully finished. Thankfully, the designs for the two shuttles were mostly complete as they had been things I'd worked off and on for the past year. I had even given those initial designs to B'Elanna way back when when she had had some downtime on my island, after she had finished the holo-gardener project, so she'd been working on them too over the past few months. She'd made many worthwhile changes to the design that only a gifted engineer would have thought of.
These ships were heavily influenced by the Delta Flyer designs I had reproduced from memory and would be a much, much larger, more substantial, and powerful shuttlecraft than the Federation Class 2 shuttlecraft which would be the normal complement of shuttles meant for an intrepid class starship, like Voyager had been. Overkill was my philosophy after all. It'd have all the advanced technologies the Temptress had, from replicators, to bio-neural circuitry, to the advanced weapons, shields, transporters, and cloaking systems. Part of its warp core would even come from the main components of the Temptress, so that some of the notice me not 'magic' might be imbued.
The only thing it would not have is a mini-slipstream drive. We had had several issues with the Temptress' slipstream drive and the intense processing requirements needed to pull it off, so it just wasn't yet possible to miniaturize the drive to fit on a shuttlecraft. Even beyond that, that FTL technology gave me a tremendous edge over the rest of the alpha quadrant's races, and I just couldn't justify putting that technology on a shuttle and thus at much greater risk of being captured and reverse engineered. B'Elanna had argued that she could probably work up a significantly reduced speed version of the slipstream drive capable of being used on the shuttles, but I had veto'd that idea quick. It was just too risky.
Thankfully, I had kept a quarter of all the materials we'd mined and refined on Janus VI for my own future uses, so she had plenty of non-replicable materials to build the two new shuttles. In this case, though, she was building a miniaturized version of the mobile construction yard that had built the Flighty Temptress in the first place, the original right now still back on my island. Once the design was finalized and the materials loaded into the mobile construction yard, both shuttlecraft should be fully built by the time we reached Deep Space Nine in two weeks' time. Given all the advanced technology involved and the frenetic activity taking place all over the ship, it was actually harder to keep our current passenger, Lt. Barclay, in the dark about everything going on around here. Thankfully, that wasn't really my problem.
No, I was firmly focused on my own project, designing and building my new Iron Man inspired nano-armor. With two weeks of travel ahead of us, this was my idea of heaven.
"Scarlett, please give me your report on the simulations you ran on the nanite power core and replication unit and the simulated tests on the armor," I spoke aloud in this reproduction of my halo design lab on Bajor.
With that command Scarlett appeared in her Black Widow outfit, but surprisingly, so did Hermione.
"Hermione, what an unexpected surprise. Did you help Scarlett with the analysis?" I asked the VI in control of my island palace on Bajor, a smile firmly on my face. The QEC technology really made some crazy shit possible.
"Yes, sir. Scarlett needed additional processing power to complete the simulations and analysis and I was only too happy to offer her my help. I also assisted with the creation of the Jarvis VI-matrix," Hermione answered.
The slutty Hogwarts' schoolgirl look just got me every time. The fact that I called her by her fictional character name and yet had named my ship's VI the actress's name was probably deserving of some psychoanalysis, but it was better not to ask questions you didn't want the answer to.
"So what did the simulations show, are the designs viable?" I asked.
"They're viable, sir. All combat metrics either exceeded or met previous expectations," Scarlett responded with a smile. "It's an amazing feat of engineering."
That put a smile on my face. "I'm so glad to hear that. Now I'm sure you ladies have some suggestions for improvements. Hit me."
This time Hermione responded. "As you know, an individual nanite is a rather dumb machine with limited processing power, but working together, collectively, they have an incredible ability to exponentially increase that processing power. Simulations have indicated that under intense combat stress there could be spikes that the processing ability of the nanite network, both in your body and in the outer armor, might not be able to handle. This is notably true when the nanites are either replicating a complex object, transitioning to a complex form like an advanced piece of technology, or the nanite network is working to keep you alive and heal a combat injury."
"What's your solution," I asked in return, thoughtfully looking over the simulation metrics projected holographically in the air in front of me which tracked how much processing power was required to complete various tasks while under hard conditions.
"The nanite network is strong collectively, but we believe a redundant physical processor and data core built into the power core/replicator units would buttress the network during normal operations, but especially under stress," Hermione answered with a smile, and with a gesture a change was made to the power core. As the additional processing unit was internal, the power core exploded virtually to its component parts and was slowly put back together again.
"Huh, it really doesn't add any appreciable mass, which should make the doctors' jobs easier since my bones aren't getting any bigger," I said with a chuckle, appreciating how well they integrated the new tech into the power core. "How much will this increase processing power? And where did this technology come from?" I asked, assuming it was probably from the Husnock database.
"This miniaturized design for a processor and data storage actually came from the Vidiian medical device/weapon/transporter you acquired recently. It is an incredible piece of technology. If added to all five power cores, as planned, it should increase processing power and data storage by 500%," Scarlett answered. "If the nanite network is able to tap into your neural transceiver's quantum entanglement communication technology, you'd essentially have all the processing power of the Flighty Temptress and your island at your disposal."
"Then why do I need the extra processing power?" I asked, honestly confused, but mighty impressed with Hermione and Scarlett's work. It had never occurred to me that the nanite network would be able to tap into my neural transceiver and link up with the computer cores on my island and ship.
"There is a limit to the throughput on data transfer with that technology and there are likely going to be instances where either the delay inherent in that throughput limit would be problematic, or you end up in another dimension again and thus cut off from those resources. The paranoia protocols you implemented suggest relying on external processing solely is not desirable," Hermione answered.
"You're absolutely right, ladies. Thank you for clearing that up," I said with a smile. This kind of thinking was exactly why I wanted them to run millions of simulations and suggest improvements. I may be an augment with a genetically engineered super intellect, but I wasn't perfect, and I was always open to good ideas.
"Anything else?"
"Yes," Scarlett offered. "During the Collector assault on the ship our inventory of captured Collector weaponry, equipment, and power cells increased significantly. The boarding torpedo, in particular, had some overpowered cells the Collector used to power their transporter relay. Like with their new phasers, the tech was primitive, so they just threw more and more power at it to overcome any deficiencies, thankfully the cells are still small enough to be useful in this situation."
"I see, you're suggesting I use these new cells for the nanite power cores? What kind of increase in power will I see over the ones I originally planned to use?"
Hermione made a gesture and new graphs and power generation analyses were displayed holographically, "The sternum power core is going to be the largest, there you'll see a 150% increase. In the four remaining, left and right shoulder, left and right side of the pelvis, each will net 50% per core. That's a 350% increase over your original designs from what we had on hand."
"What does that mean in practical terms?"
Scrarlett smirked and boy did that smile look positively evil, "More power means the maximum energy output on all your constructs will be 350% stronger, you could shoot down a runabout class vessel with your phaser canon. You'll be able to transport a longer distance, travel faster while in flight mode, even replicate items that require a power cell of their own, like a hand phaser. It's a game changer."
"Excellent work ladies, I approve of all these additions. I'm assuming our doctors have received the updated designs and have signed off on it?" I asked.
"They have, sir, though their simulations turned up some interesting things and have made some suggestions as well," Scarlett responded.
"Great work, ladies, I'm off to see our beautiful doctors then!" And with that I was off. Finally my new armor project was making some serious progress.
Infirmary. The Flighty Temptress. En route to Deep Space 9 traveling at warp 9.95.
Walking into the infirmary aboard my ship was like walking into a very familiar place. Yes, I had designed this entire ship, including the infirmary, but I had taken a lot of inspiration from the infirmary aboard Voyager. This room looked a lot like that famous room, albeit far more luxurious and richly appointed, it was also the home of the Emergency Medical Hologram that kept so many of the Voyager crew alive over the course of 7 years.
My infirmary was twice as large and had everything a level 1 trauma center on Earth would have, from multiple state-of-the-art bio beds, to the most advanced sensors and medical equipment this galaxy had to offer, to a surgical suite that would be the envy of any on Earth. My goal was to fight and survive a galaxy spanning war, I wasn't cutting corners. My infirmary even had a research laboratory that could be used to go beyond what we knew of medical science.
What my infirmary didn't have, though, was a flesh and blood doctor to staff it. Voyager had proven time and time again just how valuable the EMH could be, even if the rest of the Federation didn't realize what they had. I had three of the Mark 1's now, but these weren't the bald Dr. Lewis Zimmerman look-a-likes.
One of the first things I had done with my new EMHs was to change their physical parameters and personalities, so now both my home and ship had three EMH programs onboard modeled after a young Tricia Helfer from her days on Battlestar Galactica, Margot Robbie from Wolf of Wall Street, and Gal Gadot from Wonder Woman. Of course that series and movies had never been made in this dimension, but Earth's cultural archives did have examples of them in various forms. They now were quite easy on the eyes now and had amazing bedside manner after I'd worked my magic.
According to Scarlett, my beautiful trio of doctors had been working non-stop since we'd acquired that piece of Vidiian technology, which functioned as a weapon, medical scanner and surgical instrument all in one. According to B'Elanna it put a Federation tricorder to shame. My doctors, though, had been studying its database intently for weeks now while B'Elanna worked on trying to reverse engineer the technology which made it all possible.
I'd retasked them to study my designs for the nano armor, and the pieces of that system that they'd be surgically inserting into my body.
"Scarlett, please load the EMHs."
With that command Gal Gadot, Margot Robbie, and Tricia Helfer appeared in front of me, and what a sight it was. Talk about eye candy. Their default appearance parameters had them wearing the blue duty uniforms of the medical branch of Starfleet, but I'd since changed it to be a sexy skirt, low cut blouse combo, with a white full length lab coat over the ensemble. Randomizers in the activation subroutine would switch up the coloring and even sometimes give them sexy silk stockings.
"Good morning, Captain, how can we serve you?"
They spoke in unison with bright smiles on their faces. Yeah, I'd changed that fucking 'Please state the nature of the medical emergency' bullshit first thing. Now they'd give me their best smoky, sexy voice and help me with whatever I wanted. Taking some inspiration from Voyager again, I'd tweaked the Starfleet oriented ethics subroutines to make them more flexible to my desires, but not to others who weren't part of my crew. That would be dangerous if someone could co-opt the doctors who could work on me. I could ask them to help me design a biological weapon or give me an amazing three way blowjob and they'd do it with a smile.
"Ladies, give me the good news."
"It's an amazing piece of work, Captain. Scarlett and Hermione can gush about the technology's engineering sophistication, but what we're amazed by is how well these little machines work from a medical perspective," my Gal Gadot EMH answered. For some reason she'd taken on the leadership/spokesperson role amongst them.
"Elaborate please."
"Captain, you designed these nanites obviously with the goal of keeping you alive through the most grueling combat, but we took it a step further," she gushed, while gesturing to the center of the room where new holograms were displayed showing a depiction of my nude body from the outside, before it quickly zoomed in further and further to show my circulatory system and the components of my blood. "Stitching up a wound from the inside with a reproduction of the field a dermal regenerator creates or repairing blood vessels and arteries with an auto suture is something the nanites could do with your original design, that's amazing on its own, but what about harm to the body not delivered by mundane things like a phaser/disrupter or knife or explosion?"
"I really do not understand what you're getting at doctor."
"What about poison, radiation, disease, etc? Watch," she commanded.
In the middle of the room, my holo-body was exposed to various indicated substances. What happened next surprised even me as the nanites in my bloodstream started to attack the threats in a variety of ways, sometimes with an established 'fix' already known to Federation medical science in the form of drugs or other substances, or some application of a medical device, but from the inside. The intriguing thing was how quickly the threat was recognized and then destroyed. Many harmful things to the human body were very easy to destroy if caught early on, before they could dig in and start doing damage.
"How did you get them to behave like this?" I asked, cycling through different threats.
"Our own holo-matrices contains an incredibly set of diagnostic methodologies and courses of treatment. We essentially 'taught' the nanites in your body how to recognize a threat to your body and how to respond to keep you alive. Once we did that, the floodgates opened in unexpected ways. The nanite network was designed to mimic or replicate various pieces of technology, like a replicator or a transporter. Imagine, for example, being stuck on an alien world without food or water. Starvation can kill you the same as a weapon, it just takes longer. The nanites can internally replicate everything your body needs nutritionally for your body to stay alive. If it can't deal with something, it can attack on a cellular level and literally vaporize the foreign bodies. And with the nanites constantly monitoring your body functions, they can even maintain or adjust the hormones in your body normally released during sleep that help repair cells and control the body's use of energy," Gal gushed out excitedly.
"Wait, wait, are you saying that I won't need to eat or sleep anymore?!" I exclaimed, being a bit freaked out at this.
"Yes and no. Yes, the nanites can produce everything you need nutritionally to survive and thrive, but no, obviously that would be a rather bland and uninspiring existence for an organic being like yourself. You can and should eat normally, but should you ever be in a situation where you can't for whatever reason, the nanites can provide everything your body needs. As for sleeping, again, yes and no. Yes, the nanites can artificially create and regulate the hormones normally produced during sleep, but no, even if you wanted to, there are aspects of sleep, like reaching a REM state, that are required for humans to maintain their sanity. All this would mean is that you could go for much, much longer without sleep then would otherwise be possible for a human. For someone so concerned with combat, I think you can easily see the value in that," she snarked, with a wicked smile on her face.
I laughed hard at that. "Gal, you and your sisters are a Godsend. Both sound incredibly useful. Excellent work! Was there anything else?"
"Yes, the current design and programming of the nanites will allow you to actively disable the false medical sensor readings that are hiding the nanites that will be in your body. We strongly recommend that you give Jarvis the ability to disable that system if certain conditions are met. In the event you become incapacitated and need third party medical attention, you may not be capable of disabling the system."
Huh...that was a good point. If I was rendered unconscious due to injury, I wouldn't be able to disable the system creating those false sensor readings and thus wouldn't be able to receive the needed medical attention.
"I had not considered that, Gal. Make the change to the programming. Now, are we ready for some surgery?" I asked, both exhilarated and nervous in equal measure. This was the culmination of years of improvements to my armor system. If this worked, it would always be with me, protecting me and giving me a much better chance of surviving all the horrors of war this quadrant would experience.
I just hoped it'd be enough.
"Hop on up, Captain."
Commander's Office. Deep Space Nine.
Kira was tired, and this was noticed immediately by Sisko as the Bajoran woman entered the office.
"You wanted to see me, Commander?" said Nerys.
"Actually, what I'd like to see is next month's duty roster," Sisko replied, with no small amount of snark.
The Bajoran woman winced upon hearing that. She'd gotten rather behind on her paperwork. Until now she'd never realized just how much of a workload running this station had become. The wormhole was attracting new ships all the time, which was a blessing for Bajor in the 'big picture' as Gothic liked to say, but a ton of work for the station's overworked XO.
Those vessels needed to given docking berths, their ships often needed maintenance or repairs, cargo needed to be loaded and unloaded, their crews wanted shore leave onboard, which meant finding places for them to sleep, and on and on and on, the demands never ended, and those were the day-to-day mundane problems around here.
"You'll have it on your desk first thing in the morning," Nerys promised.
Sisko had heard this before.
"That's what you said yesterday," he reminded.
Kira sighed.
"I know," Nerys admitted, embarrassed, "but I just spent the whole day yesterday speaking to Minister Rozahn about irrigating the Trilar Peninsula."
Sisko was aware of this.
"I know. I heard you yelling at the Minister," he said.
As had all of Ops.
"Every time I talk to one of the ministers I promise myself I'm not going to lose control," the Bajoran woman explained. "But then they give me some stupid bureaucratic excuse for why something isn't getting done, and I get so, frustrated!"
Even with the recent structural changes to the government, things weren't going as smoothly as they should. Unfortunately, as the liaison officer between Bajor and the Starfleet Administration, she had to deal with the government quite often.
"I can understand that, and I sympathize," the Commander was now saying. "As far as I'm concerned you can shout at the provisional government all you want, just as long as it doesn't interfere with your duties here on the station."
Sisko was right. Failing at her duties would not aid Bajor in any way, and she did not want to fail Bajor.
"You're right," Kira agreed. "I'll get on that report right away."
As she left the Commander's office, O'Brien called over to her.
"Major, Quark's been looking for you. He says it's urgent."
Oh that was the last thing she needed to hear.
"Oh and the General is back," the Operations officer told her as Kira headed for the turbolift.
Well, that at least was good news. The station just hadn't been the same without him these past several weeks and she missed her man. Maybe she could put that advanced mind of his to work and help her with her paperwork, or if that failed, get him to let her borrow Laren. That girl was a miracle worker when it came to paperwork.
(Line Break)
Quark's Bar. Deep Space Nine
The clientele was clearly captivated by the Bajoran who was playing a variation on the DS9 theme on a wooden wind instrument I'd since learned was called a tivara. Even the waiters were caught up in the mood. I wondered where the song came from. Perhaps in the show it was an ancient Bajoran song.
Once the performance was over I looked over to see that Nerys had entered the bar. I'd not seen her for quite a long while, but she didn't even notice that I was here. Not surprising really, the poor woman looked incredibly tired, and for once I wasn't in my armor, at least not visibly. Plus she'd come here looking for Quark, no doubt he'd dragged her down here for some thoroughly unimportant reason.
"I hear you've been trying to get in touch with me," I heard Kira say to the barkeeper tiredly.
Quark came around the bar so that he could annoy my Bajoran babe up close.
"You hear right, Major. Look around you. Does anything seem to be amiss?" he asked, casting his eyes around his bar.
Nerys looked around as the music started up again.
"Varani is playing music," she soon said. "Your customers seem to be enjoying it."
Quark was clearly not happy.
"Major? They're not just enjoying him. They're mesmerized by him," the bartender complained, "and while they're busy being mesmerized, they're not gambling, they're not eating, and they're barely drinking. Profits are down across the board!"
Naturally my lover didn't see the big deal.
"He's just started playing, how could that be?" asked Kira.
Quark was not going to let this go easily.
"I monitor my gross income hourly. My hourly figures become my indicators. My indicators become my projections," the short alien explained. "And my projections based on the last twenty six hours show an unprecedented decline in profits."
They kept debating this as the musician, who was called Varani, finished his piece. By the end of the argument nothing was resolved, and the bartender went back to work while looking grumpy.
"That was beautiful," I heard Kira say in compliment to the musician she obviously admired.
I went over to Varani to offer my own praises; his music was truly beautiful and a unique Bajoran musical art form and style.
"Having my work appreciated again," the Bajoran man mused. "I've almost forgotten how it feels".
"Well, it's appreciated here," I told Varani.
"Granted, it's not quite the exhibition halls you're used to," Nerys said, throwing a very warm smile my way when she saw me.
I didn't know where this man had used to play, but during the Occupation the Bajorans had not been allowed to assemble much in public, at least not in large numbers, which made live performances rather tricky. Perhaps he'd played before the Occupation, he looked old enough. The Occupation had lasted half a century, but Bajorans could easily live for over a century.
"Varani, I just spoke with Quark," Nerys mentioned, looking uncomfortable. "He likes what you're doing, but he's hoping you'll play a variety of styles."
The musical man smiled. He understood.
"A little less exhibition hall and a little more music hall," he said with a small smile and chuckle. "I think I can accommodate him."
Kira was pleased to her this. Quark would be as well.
"I'd love to hear you play in a more appropriate setting," my Bajoran babe mentioned.
"Have you spoken to Minister Bolka about my idea to rebuild the Jalanda Forum?" the musical man asked.
When it became clear that Nerys had been unsuccessful in her efforts, despite likely passionately arguing for it, I decided to make an offer.
"Varani, aside from my work with the Bajoran Defense Force I also write holonovels that are distributed widely throughout the quadrant," I mentioned. "If you'd be willing to write some original music for my holonovels, I'd be willing to set aside part of the profits from the sale of each those novels to fund the rebuilding of the Forum, and I could put my personal support behind a rebuilding project with the Council of Ministers. I'd also be willing to use my home's industrial replicator to produce much of the replicable building materials needed for the rebuilding."
Judging by the look on Nery's face she didn't think this was a suitable subject of conversation, at least the business transaction aspect of it, though she did look happy at the idea of my helping to make the rebuilding project a reality. She knew with my influence, money, and the offer of free building materials, the chance for this happening went sky high.
"But we could discuss that later," I said.
I left them to talk knowing that I'd have to catch up with Nerys later; she'd soon be busy with some visitors very soon if my knowledge of the show and this particular episode panned out.
I was happy to offer Varani this deal as I'd rather my money go towards a native Bajoran musician and a great cause, rather than merely licensing some music from some other musician in the quadrant. My holonovels were often set in completely alien settings with unknown races and as Bajoran music wasn't much known in the quadrant, it'd go a long way to selling the alien vibe I was going for. Using my island's replicator would similarly cost me little, as the cost of replicated materials was almost entirely derived from the power demands involved. My island was powered by a Collector power cell which harnessed a singularity and thus was almost free for me.
If this went through with my help, the old Jalanda Forum might live again, bringing art and culture to tens of thousands of Bajorans each year. The name had cultural significance so it would have to stay, but the 'General Gothic Performance Hall' had a nice ring to it.
(Line Break)
"Ah, Major. Get everything settled with Quark?" Sisko asked.
Having seen the Bajoran officer's face, the Commander figured that the barkeeper hadn't been easy to deal with.
"That little toad is this far from going out of an airlock," she replied tersely.
Before that could be discussed further some important events started happening.
"Commander, sensors are picking up elevated neutrino readings," reported Mr. O'Brien. "A ship's coming through the wormhole."
This could mean trouble. No ships were due so this had to be a visitor from the far side of the galaxy, which could be good or bad.
"On screen," Sisko ordered.
They all watched as the wormhole opened and a ship came through.
"Sensors are detecting four lifeforms on board," one of the Starfleet officers reported.
He wasn't the only one with something to report.
"I'm reading a plasma leak in their engine core," O'Brien told everyone in Ops.
Now that was of concern.
"Hail them," the Commander ordered.
"No response," Kira responded.
O'Brien had more to say.
"Their reactor's overheating," he reported. "And their life support is barely functioning."
The Commander knew what to do.
"Get them out of there, Chief," he commanded
Within moments a female and three males were beamed into Ops. They had very dry, flaking skin, but other than they could pass for humans.
"I'm Commander Sisko of the United Federation of Planets," the commanding officer said by way of greeting. "You've just been beamed onto a Bajoran space station. We don't mean you any harm. We're going to bring your ship in. Once it's docked, we'll diagnose its problems and hopefully fix them. After that, you can be on your way. I can also offer you medical assistance for your wounded."
"Oo-mata! Oo-mata! Dongo patar meeoto fenta. Fenta!" said the injured boy.
The woman spoke next, but also made no sense.
"Does anyone understand what she's saying?" Kira asked.
No one did.
"Something must be wrong with the Universal Translator," Sisko reasoned. "Chief?"
Miles looked over the program.
"It's working, Commander," he said, "but for some reason it's having difficulty analyzing their language patterns. Their syntax and their grammatical structure must be completely unlike anything in our database, but it is trying to make sense of what they are saying."
This happened sometimes. The humanoid mouth could only make so many sounds yet there seemed to be an endless number of different languages that humanoid beings could talk.
"We'll have to keep them talking until the computer can figure out how to translate their language. The more they talk, the quicker it'll be," said the Commander.
"Ketoh maseeca Skrreea. Tolak mayfessaka. Koo masek. Gadoux besoolin fenta. Fenta."
This lack of understanding was going to last for a while it seemed.
"At least keeping them talking shouldn't be much of a problem," Kira commented.
(Line Break)
Guest Quarters. Deep Space Nine.
"These will be your quarters while you're here on the station," Kira told the aliens. "I'm sure you want to rest and clean up... and you don't understand anything I'm saying, do you?"
They didn't, and even had they understood the aliens were too busy looking around to listen to anything anyone had to say.
"I know something they might understand," Sisko said as he went over to the replicators. "Seven maaza stalks."
The food soon appeared and he passed it to their female guest.
"This is food. Please, try one," he invited, trying to appear and sound as friendly as possible.
They were soon eating.
"Noloux bataak rama satta. Rama emal jeetaka. Zula koo Gadoux soka gee," said the alien woman. "Bataak rama satta. Rama satta. Zula koo. Hemena kee. Soulak. Need estassa."
Odo, who was providing an escort, heard it first.
"Wait. Did you hear that?" he asked "I think she said need."
If so, then it was encouraging news.
"Go on, keep talking," Sisko urged.
Thankfully the alien did go on talking.
"Ganoux? Noloux bataak rama setta my people yeekopa Skrreea havou fotar save them."
All of the DS9 crew heard that.
"Noloux Skrreea soka roo need your help," said the alien female. "There's no time. Soulak. We are the Skrreea. My people need your help. There's no time to waste."
Now they were starting to make sense.
"Your people are the Skrreea. You need our help. There's no time to waste," Kira said.
At least the translator was working correctly.
"Your people, where are they?" Sisko wished to know.
"They're on the creshnee side of the Eye," they were told.
"The Eye?" Nerys asked.
Their guest nodded.
"The Eye of the Universe. The tunnel," the alien said.
"I think she means the wormhole," Odo reasoned.
Given that these aliens had come through the wormhole, this made sense.
"They're on the other side," the woman answered. "They don't realize we found the Eye."
It took a little figuring out since the translator had a bit more trouble with the alien's form of speech, but the crew of DS9 soon learned that three million Skrreea were going to need resettling. Which was a tall order by any measure.
(Line Break)
Ops. Deep Space Nine.
The Commander of the station soon decided to get me involved in this situation. He had to given that millions of aliens would soon enter the system in a massive refugee fleet. The security risk to Bajor was staggering, as I couldn't be sure that the Skrreea in this timeline wouldn't try to land all their ships on Bajor, no matter what they were told.
If they tried, the entire Bajoran Defense Force sure as hell wouldn't be able to stop them, even if each ship was only lightly armed, and even if many of them were damaged and about to fall apart, they could still easily overwhelm any attempt to keep them off Bajor. Quantity had a fucking quality all its own. To be fair, the vast majority of planets in the Federation would be in exactly the same boat.
I really, really didn't want to fire on refugee ships, and I hoped it wouldn't come to that, as I didn't think I could actually do it. Fighting those who wished do me and others harm was one thing, but these Skrreea just wanted to find a new home.
"Is there anything wrong?" I heard Nerys ask the Skrreea woman who was called Haneek.
Clearly something about this station made her uncomfortable.
"I'm just not used to the men being here. Skrreean men don't involve themselves in situations like this," she told us. "Men are much too emotional to be leaders. They're always fighting among themselves. It's their favorite thing to do."
Given that in my time I'd heard plenty of men say that women were too emotional to be good leaders I had to wonder how true Haneek's words were. Sure, the few Skrrean men I'd seen so far did seem like overgrown boys, but did they act that way naturally, or did they act that way because they were expected too?
"I'm sorry. I hope I haven't offended anyone," Haneek then said.
This felt really strange to me, like an artifact of the show made real. A species capable of space travel must have encountered other races in which that species' males didn't conform to their culture and way of life. Why was she surprised? Before more could be spoken on that subject Sisko came out his office.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said.
We senior officers had been waiting a while, however we weren't bothered. The Commander had been on the space phone to Starfleet Command and the Bajoran Government. No doubt the arrival of millions of homeless aliens in this sector, from the gamma quadrant no less, was causing an uproar. I imagined that I'd be smoothing the ruffled feathers of a few high ranking Bajoran military leaders before long who would rightfully fear the worst.
At least being this far away from Earth meant that the sudden appearance of so many ships wasn't going to panic anyone in Starfleet. They were on extremely high alert these days and if the wormhole wasn't on the frontier of known space we might have gotten a small fleet of Federation ships here by now.
"That's all right, Benjamin," Dax told her old friend. "Haneek was just telling us how the Skrreea are a female dominant society."
Any society dominated by one gender would of course seem wrong to the liberal minded people of the Federation.
"It seems the men are a bit too emotional to become leaders," added O'Brien, with a bit of mischief in his voice.
"Please do not misunderstand. We love our men. Really," Haneek insisted.
The Commander decided to move on with more important matters, and to be fair, the lack of gender equality among the Skrrean was an internal concern of theirs and not something Starfleet should be getting involved in. If they tried to ask for Federation membership down the road, then they'd have a legitimate excuse to be concerned. Besides there were much bigger issues to deal with right now.
"Are you one of the leaders of your people, Haneek?" Sisko asked.
She seemed shocked by the very idea.
"Me? Oh, no. I'm little more than a farmer," Haneek replied. "I was just lucky. I was simply the first one to find the Eye of the Universe."
"You were looking for the wormhole?" Dax asked.
"We had heard about a great tunnel being discovered," the alien woman answered. "We knew it must be the Eye of the Universe that would lead us to Kentanna."
After being asked she explained what Kentanna was.
"Kentanna is the legendary home of the Skrreeans," we were told. "It has always been portrayed in our sacred texts as being just beyond the Eye of the Universe. A planet of sorrow where the Skrreean will sow seeds of joy."
Which rightly or wrongly they would think was Bajor.
"I can't guarantee that you'll find this Kentanna," Sisko said," but I can promise you that we'll help you find a home."
She seemed happy to hear this.
"Thank you," she said to the Commander. "It will be good to escape those who conquered our world all those years ago."
Now it was my turn to ask something.
"Who conquered your planet?" I wondered, though I already had a suspicion.
"I don't know their name. I only know they were members of something called the Dominion," she answered.
So they did exist in this dimension after all; that was worrying. I'd hoped that maybe they'd suffered the same fate as the Borg and had been wiped out long ago, alas they hadn't. Unfortunately, this meant that the war between the Dominion and the races of the Alpha Quadrant would likely happen. It was only a matter of time.
Guest Quarters. Deep Space Nine.
Kira was given entrance to the quarters that Haneek had been given while staying on the station. She wanted to see how the woman was fitting in.
"Did I wake you?" Nerys asked. "I can come back if it's not a good time."
Haneek was glad to see the Bajoran woman who was fast becoming her friend.
"No. You've been so kind to me," Haneek demurred, "how could I possibly refuse your company?"
Two of the Skrreean, who were named Gai and Cowl entered the room, they were bleary-eyed, clearly they had been sleeping.
"Go back to bed," Haneek instructed. "Go on. Go on. I'll join you later."
They did as they were told.
"Are those your husbands?" Kira wondered.
The word didn't mean anything to Haneek.
"Hus-bands?" she asked. "Are you asking if they are bonded to me?"
The Bajoran woman wondered how to ask this next question.
"Do you sleep with them both?" Nerys asked.
"Of course. Don't you sleep with your males?" she asked back.
Given the complex nature of her relationship with Gothic, she decided to change the subject.
"I just wanted to tell you we found some of your ships," Nerys told Haneek. "Several hundred Skrreeans should be arriving at the station today. We thought it would be a good idea if you were there to meet them."
Hopefully she could help smooth things over. Trying to see to the needs of so many would be a monumental task. Kira would need all the help she could get.
"Why me?" Haneek wondered. "I'm just a farmer."
Well, it wasn't as if they had anyone else, and the already established relationship would help.
"You also were the first one through the Eye of the Universe," Kira reminded Haneek. "That's got to mean something."
Hopefully it would be, as Haneek was the closest thing they had to an ambassador to the Skrreean people.
(Line Break)
Quarters. Deep Space Nine.
"Something on your mind?" I asked.
Nerys had barely touched her dinner, or the spring wine, and it was a good vintage as well.
"I just found out that the Skrreea think that Bajor is the world of sorrows," she told me.
Well, that explained her mood. She knew as well as I did that the Skrreea would want to settle Bajor and that the Bajoran ministers would never allow that. To make matters worse the refusal would make Nerys feel guilty. Not that she should feel that way, as the decision really wasn't hers to make.
"I wish I could tell you that things will work out the way the Skrreea want, but we both know that that would be a lie," I said as I went and sat on the couch. "Bajor can't reliably feed and clothe its own people at the moment, never mind three million sudden alien refugees."
Refugees were a major problem in my time, and every society had had to decide between putting their own people first and helping strangers who were suffering. There were no easy answers.
"I was hoping that you might be able to do something," Nerys said as she came and sat down next to me. "Can't you talk to the Ministers and encourage them to let the Skrreea settle on Bajor."
Well, I could, but since this wasn't strictly a military matter I didn't think my voice would carry all that far in the debate. I had a lot of political capitol on Bajor these days, but the Ministers didn't want me to have too much influence over the day-to-day affairs of the planet, hence why I worked on Deep Space Nine and why they gave me such latitude and broad authority in most things. They liked me largely staying out of the planet's business and in return for doing so I got a lot of leeway with how I did my job. If I involved myself in Bajoran politics beyond donating money and material to worthy causes that helped the planet rebuild, that freedom could be taken away from me.
"It's best that I don't get involved, for multiple good reasons," I said in answer to Nerys, "and besides I don't think the Skrreea shouldsettle on Bajor."
If the Dominion was still after them for any reason then resettling them on Bajor, at the very mouth of the wormhole no less, could make the planet a target.
"Why not?" Nerys demanded to know.
I repeated reasons that she no doubt had heard before. That ensured she ended up storming out of my quarters in a huff. I wasn't too worried as I knew that she'd start to see the logic behind my words once she'd cooled down.
(Line Break)
Commander's Office. Deep Space Nine.
It hadn't taken long to arrange this meeting, and that was good as there were now already thousands of Skrreean people on the station, tens of thousands more on their ships orbiting the station, and likely even more on the way.
The station simply wasn't designed to support that many people at one time. Its resources were already being strained to the breaking point, and having so many refugees around was causing other problems. The station was over crowded, crime was on the rise, and tempers were frayed.
Sisko would have loved to already be in the process of resettling the Skrreean somewhere else. In fact, there was a world ready for them, but their hearts were set on settling Bajor, which they believed was the World of Sorrow that was beyond the Eye of the Universe in their prophecies.
This was a whole new set of problems that the station and Bajor just didn't need. Hopefully this meeting would resolve things.
"First of all, I want you all to know that the provisional government has taken the Skrreeans' request for immigration very seriously," said the female minster who had come all the way to the station for this meeting. "The debate in the Chamber of Ministers became quite heated at times."
Hardly surprising even with the new and more stable government now running Bajor. The choice to allow the Skrreenan refugees to settle Bajor was not one to be taken likely. It would effect Bajor's future for years and years to come and would decide the fate of millions of Skrreenans.
"But a decision was reached?" the Commander asked.
Rozahn, the female minster, nodded her head.
"Yes. I was sent here to tell you that the Ministers, in accord with the Vedek Assembly, have decided to deny the Skrreeans' request," she answered. "I am truly sorry."
Sorad, the Vedek, spoke next.
"Bajor simply cannot resettle three million refugees at this time," the priest said.
To be fair, there were very few worlds that could, even a world like Earth, Vulcan, or Betazed would struggle mightily with a sudden influx of that many people all at once.
"After what the Cardassians did to our planet, the sad truth is that we can barely take care of our own," the Minister added.
Understandably, Haneek was not happy to hear this.
"But no one is asking you to take care of us," she insisted.
"This decision is not based strictly on Bajoran self-interest," the Vedek tried to explain. "Such a huge increase in population would prove to be tragic to your people as well as ours."
The Skrreean did not let the matter drop.
"But Bajor has more than enough room for us," Haneek insisted. "The plains of the northwest peninsula are practically uninhabited. The land's ideal for farming."
Rozahn frowned.
"It used to be," she said, "before the Cardassians got their hands on it."
The spoon heads had indeed done a lot of harm to the planet. It would take decades and tremendous outlays in resources before much of it could be healed.
"Minister Rozahn, the Skrreeans are farmers," Haneek argued. "Just give us the land. I guarantee you that we can make it thrive again."
Rozahn sighed. She wasn't enjoying this, and the ministers hadn't wanted to turn refugees away, but what choice did they have? The irony of this situation was not lost on her. Many Bajorans had fled to other worlds as refugees to escape the many horrors of the Occupation.
"Under ideal circumstances, perhaps you could," the Minister elaborated. "But what if the circumstances aren't ideal? What if we go through another long winter? What if your crops fail? What if the famine that has been plaguing Bajor continues to spread? What then?"
"We're willing to take that risk," Haneek said.
"But I'm afraid we aren't," the Minister explained. "We ran a series of projections to see whether a Skrreean settlement could survive on the northwest peninsula. The results were not encouraging."
The Commander could see these issues being debated for hours unless he did something.
"Haneek, I think you should seriously consider Draylon Two as an alternative to Bajor," suggested Sisko. "The winters are mild, and there's plenty of good farmland for all your people."
Plus no one else lived there, so there would be no need for further meetings like this. The Federation also had dedicated organizations ready to help, organizations which existed to help people colonize new world and to settle refugees. Sure, they'd have trouble helping out millions at once, but they'd have much more success at it than Bajor would, which couldn't look after its own people at the moment. The Federation was even now trying to help Bajor rebuild and that was going slowly, adding millions to the planet's population overnight would not help in that regard. And even beyond that, with my knowledge from the show, who knew what the Dominion would do if when they came in the next few years they found millions of people they'd already conquered living on Bajor.
"No! Projections can be wrong," Haneek insisted, reasonably.
"But what if they're not?" Haneek asked, reasonably. "What is Bajor to do if your people start dying? Do you really think we could stand by and do nothing? We would feel obligated to help with food, with clothing, with medicine, with whatever it would take."
"And where would that aid come from?" the Vedek was now asking. "Our resources are already depleted. To help you would mean depriving our own people."
There was a moment of silence.
"I'm afraid that the decision of the provisional government is final," said the Minister. "The Skrreea will have to find somewhere else to live."
(Line Break)
The Flighty Temptress. Deep Space Nine.
"Finally!" I yelled.
The noise made Neela and Laren, who I'd dragged off the station for this mission, jump in shock at the exclamation. Whatever, it made them more alert, and they needed to focus.
"There is a Skrreean ship heading straight for Bajor," T'Maz reported. "Just as you predicted."
I'd told my crew a little while ago that I suspected that some of the Skrreean would attempt to reach Bajor despite the government's ruling. Since I'd known the outcome of all this I'd stayed out of events as much as I could, but now I had to get involved in order to ensure that some idiot boy didn't get himself and possibly others, killed.
The lives of a few people might not seem all that important in the grand scheme of things, but considering the number of lives I'd taken since I arrived in this universe, it would be nice to save some for a change. Thankfully it would also enhance my reputation as a heroic figure and the military leader of Bajor's off world forces if I saved the boy, as well as anyone else on the ship, and I could show my loyalty to the Bajoran government at the same time.
"Move to intercept, best possible speed," was my order. "And scan that ship."
The Skrreean ships were all in a bad state. They'd been running for months, perhaps even for years, without proper repairs. I'd subtly scanned a few of their vessels and had found nothing special or of note about them, so I saw no need to learn more about their technology.
"I am detecting a radiation leak," T'Maz reported. "That will make it impossible to beam anyone of the Skrreea ship."
That could be a problem as that ship wasn't in a good state. I was surprised that in the show it was even able to enter Bajor's atmosphere.
"Lock on a tractor beam as soon as we are in range," I commanded.
I so loved having my own proper starship. Getting to issue orders from the captain's chair was so much fun. I didn't think this was a reason why the likes of Picard stayed in the captain's chair, but it was motivation enough for me.
"We've locked on with a tractor beam," Laren told me. "And they're firing at us. No damage."
The ship didn't even shake when the weapon's fire struck the shields at such close distance, not even a soft vibration was felt in the floor plates. I checked the readouts and saw that what passed for weapons on the hijacked ship were a joke. This vessel could threaten most native Bajoran craft, since most of the vessels in the Defense Force could barely qualify as gunships, but my ship was probably the most advanced warship in the quadrant, designed for war and built with technology decades in advance of anything even the Federation had.
"The station is hailing us," Neela informed the bridge.
I had no desire to be distracted by the people in Ops.
"Send them a text message," I instructed. "Tell them that I have things well in hand."
The Skrreean vessel fired again on me. At this rate I might need to replace the shield emitters effected five minutes earlier than I otherwise would have.
"I do not recommend returning fire, even at minimum power," advised T'Maz. "The Skrreean ship is dangerously unstable and the radiation levels are only increasing."
If they weren't going to calm down then I'd have to take drastic action.
"As planned, I'll board them the old fashioned way," I said while standing up. "Just keep them pinned in place."
I would deploy my armor, go out the airlock, use my thrusters to cross the very short distance between the two craft, cut my way into the Skrreean ship, stun the crew, fix the leak and beam everyone back to my ship for medical treatment. It wouldn't take too long.
(Line Break)
Airlock. Deep Space Nine.
As the Skrreean were leaving, Nerys went to find Haneek; she wanted to make her goodbyes.
"I just stopped by to wish you luck on Draylon Two," she told Haneek. "I really think that this is the best choice, for Bajor and for you."
Haneek didn't agree
"You still believe we would have been a burden to your people?" she asked.
Kira nodded.
"Yes," she said.
Haneek sighed.
"I think you've made a terrible mistake," said the Skrreea woman. "All of you. Maybe we could have helped you. Maybe we could have helped each other. The Skrreeans are farmers, Kira. You have a famine on your planet. Perhaps we could have made that peninsula bloom again. We'll never know, will we?"
Perhaps it could have all worked out. But the Ministers had made the right choice with the information they had and that was only reaffirmed the knowledge that the Dominion would soon be coming. For once Nerys believed that the Ministers had made the right choice.
"Fifty years of Cardassian rule has made you all frightened and suspicious," Haneek said as she entered the airlock. "I feel sorry for you. You were right. Bajor is not Kentanna."
With that the airlock closed and Nerys was left alone with her thoughts. At first she had been on Haneek's side, but over time her opinion had changed, and she was now realizing that Gothic had been right to stay out of this issue. She should go and tell him that, and apologize.