Star Trek: The Mirror Gamer
Episode 4: Inquisitor
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
Stardate: 41175.5
Earth Standard Date: March 05, 2364.
Location: ISS Enterprise, Just outside Sol System, Interstellar space.
The observation lounge exuded an air of dark elegance, with walls lined with sleek, metallic panels that gleamed under the dim, moody lighting. The large windows offered a stunning view of the stars outside, adding an element of cold beauty to the atmosphere. A long, oval table made of dark wood dominated the center of the room, surrounded by comfortable chairs designed to accommodate a large number of officers. Picard was testing its limits by gathering all the senior officers. Data, Yar, Riker, Jellico, LaForge, Brahms, Quinteros, Crusher, Pulaski, and Barclay were all in attendance, with Picard standing at the head of the table.
The captain spoke with pride in his voice. "Congratulations all around. The Enterprise is ours. Now we can finally retake our proper place in the galaxy, break free of the confines of our solar system, and begin raining down hell itself on the Klingons and Cardassians. But before we can begin, we need to face some harsh realities and figure out how to run this ship effectively."
He began the meeting by demanding that anyone with objections to his leadership speak up immediately, especially looking at Quinteros and Jellico. When neither man dared to challenge him, Picard continued with assigning duties and ranks. "Commander Riker," he said, his tone acknowledging, "you have proven yourself to be an effective and loyal first officer. You will maintain your rank of Commander and continue to serve as my right hand."
Picard then turned to Jellico, his gaze firm and commanding. He acknowledged the man's rank and had no authority to demote him, but he ensured the former captain knew who was now leading the ship. "Captain Jellico, your expertise in tactics and strategy is well-known. I expect you to share that knowledge with the crew of the Enterprise as Chief Tactical Officer."
Continuing around the table, Picard addressed each officer in turn, acknowledging their skills and contributions with an air of authority. "Lieutenant Commander Data, your unparalleled knowledge, and efficiency make you a valuable asset as the Operations Officer. Lieutenant Yar, your dedication and skill will be put to good use as our Chief of Security. Lieutenant Barclay, your technical expertise will be vital to our engineering team."
"Lieutenant LaForge, your work in Engineering has been exceptional, and you will continue to keep the Enterprise running smoothly as our Chief Engineer. Congratulations on the promotion, Lieutenant Commander LaForge. Lieutenants Brahms and Quinteros, your extensive knowledge of the Enterprise's design and your expertise in ship construction will make you indispensable assistant Chief Engineers. Quinteros you'll assist LaForge in Main Engineering, Brahms you're in charge of maintaining the secondary engineering section."
"Dr. Crusher, your medical prowess is unmatched, and you will continue to serve as our Chief Medical Officer, you will head up the main sickbay on Deck 12. Dr. Pulaski, your experience and adaptability will be of great value as the Assistant Chief Medical Officer. I'd like you to lead the sickbay on deck 2."
Picard addressed the two remaining officers, Ensign Tyson and Inquisitor Troi. "Inquisitor Troi," he began, his tone indicating the importance of her role, "while you won't be assigned to a specific department, you will serve as a special assistant to the captain. I expect each of you to take her advice into careful consideration." The other officers looked at her warily, but no one dared to speak against her appointment.
"Next," Picard continued, surprising everyone, "I announce the promotion of Tyson to the rank of Inquisitor. He will be assigned to various areas of the ship as a special assistant to the captain, with an effective rank of Lieutenant Commander." Yar and Barclay exchanged glances, their expressions betraying their displeasure at being seemingly leapfrogged in the command structure. Riker, too, looked wary.
Having addressed each officer, Picard looked around the room, his gaze conveying equal amounts of determination and ruthlessness. "We are embarking on a new chapter for the Enterprise, and I am confident that with all of you by my side, we will carve out our place in the galaxy. Together, we will conquer and dominate. Now, let's get to work." Once the ranks and duties were concluded, Picard moved on to the necessities required to get the ship to optimum performance levels. "Now, I expect each of you to focus on your respective departments and ensure that the Enterprise is operating at peak efficiency. We have a long road ahead of us, and our success depends on the strength and dedication of our crew."
"Commander Riker," Picard continued, turning to his first officer, "coordinate with the department heads and establish a schedule for crew rotations and duty assignments. I want a full report on our readiness within the next 48 hours."
"Lieutenant Commander Data," he said, addressing the android, "analyze our current systems and identify any vulnerabilities or areas that require immediate attention. Work closely with Lieutenants LaForge, Brahms, and Quinteros to address these issues."
Picard's gaze swept the room, taking in each officer. "I have every confidence in your abilities. Together, we will make the Enterprise a force to be reckoned with. Dismissed."
As the senior staff filed out of the observation lounge, Picard raised his voice with a sinister grin. "Inquisitor Troi, Inquisitor Tyson, stay behind if you would. I have a rather special assignment for you both."
Once the others had left, Picard leaned back in his chair, a wicked gleam in his eye. "You two are going to work closely together in the coming days. Inquisitor Troi, I want you to prowl through the departments, interrogating and reading everyone's intentions. Separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. Determine who can be trusted and who needs... an attitude adjustment."
Troi's eyes narrowed, and she nodded, ready to take on the challenge.
"As for you, Inquisitor Tyson," Picard said, smirking at him, "I'm assigning the brig as your department for now. You have quite the talent for convincing stubborn people to see the light, as you demonstrated with Jellico. I'd like you to use that skill to 'reeducate' any members of the crew who may be misguided or resistant to our leadership."
Tyson nodded, accepting the dark responsibility. Picard's grin widened as he addressed them both. "I expect you two to cooperate closely in maintaining crew morale and loyalty. I trust you'll enjoy the task, and I know you won't let me down."
Troi and Tyson exchanged glances, understanding the twisted trust placed on them by their captain. "We won't disappoint you, Captain," Troi assured him, her voice filled with an unsettling resolve.
"Rest assured, sir," Tyson added, his eyes locked on Picard's, "We will do everything in our power to ensure the loyalty and devotion of this crew."
With a nod, Picard dismissed them, and the two Inquisitors set off to begin their crucial, and potentially ruthless, work.
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
Tyson strode into the Sickbay on Deck 12 with Selar in tow, the sterile lighting casting an eerie glow over the room. This mirror Enterprise-D sickbay was an unsettling blend of advanced medical technology and harsh, uninviting design elements. The walls were adorned with sleek metal surfaces, giving the area a cold, clinical atmosphere. In one corner, a row of containment cells stood ready to hold patients deemed too dangerous to roam freely, or who needed an agonizer treatment.
Upon their entrance, Tyson and Selar were greeted by Dr. Beverly Crusher, her eyes sharp and watchful. Tyson cleared his throat and offered a formal introduction. "Doctor, I saw you in the meeting but haven't officially introduced myself. I am Inquisitor Tyson, and this is Selar… my companion." Tyson didn't need to deem her his slave, the collar she still wore marked her station. "We understand that all departments are currently understaffed and thought Selar could be of use to you. She possesses some medical training. "
Crusher studied Selar for a moment, her gaze calculating, then nodded in agreement. "Very well. We can always use an extra set of skilled hands around here." The mirror universe Crusher was less warm and compassionate than the prime universe counterpart he remembered, her demeanor hardened by years of struggle and treachery. Tyson watched as the two women headed toward Crusher's office, a room filled with medical texts, research materials, and an imposing desk adorned with a futuristic computer that dominated the space. Selar and Crusher began discussing Selar's medical skills, assessing her knowledge and expertise.
As the conversation unfolded, Tyson observed their interaction closely, gauging Crusher's response to Selar and the potential for collaboration – or conflict – between them. It seemed that Crusher didn't hold the same prejudices that Pulaski did, or at minimum wasn't outwardly hostile, which was an improvement. Tyson was satisfied with the arrangement and prepared to leave Sickbay when a figure in the corner spoke with him. The boy had avoided his notice because he was silent and still from the moment Tyson entered.
Instead of introducing himself, he simply started stating Tyson's achievements since arriving, "Stopping a Vulcan uprising, commandeering a Cardassian Galor-class cruiser with a small away team, and assisting in usurping the command of the Terran Flagship." The voice belonged to Wesley Crusher, the doctor's son.
Mirror Wesley Crusher was a stark contrast to his prime universe counterpart. Gone was the innocent, eager-to-learn young man, replaced by a shrewd, calculating, and slightly sinister presence. His uniform was disheveled, and his hair unkempt, giving him the appearance of someone who had seen more than his fair share of turmoil. But to the discerning eye, able to look past the disharmony of his outfit and hair, the beauty was apparent. Carefully applied makeup hid the perfect symmetry of his face. The baggy uniform hid his toned muscles and athletic physique. Wesley was a picture of human perfection hiding behind a veil of deception which was maintained and protected by his mother's position.
Tyson looked at Wesley with interest, impressed by the young man's knowledge of his exploits. "You've done your homework. Wesley Crusher, I presume," he remarked, crossing his arms. "So, what's your point? Are you trying to impress me or challenge me?"
Wesley smirked, seemingly unafraid of Tyson's imposing demeanor. "Neither, Inquisitor. I simply wanted to let you know that I'm aware of who you are and what you've done. Your payout-per-mission ranking is currently the highest of anyone in the Imperial Starfleet. I'm always on the lookout for potential allies and opportunities. If you ever need someone with... specialized skills, you know where to find me."
Tyson raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the young man's audacity. He decided to keep Wesley in mind, knowing that having a resourceful and cunning ally could prove to be invaluable. "Understood, Wesley. I'll keep that in mind."
With a nod, Tyson left the Sickbay, already contemplating the potential uses for Wesley Crusher. The boy was more than he appeared to be or wanted to appear to be. However, the boy's perfect features and keen intellect triggered alarm bells that Tyson was loath to quickly dismiss.
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
Tyson found himself standing around a round table that sat adjacent to the main engine room of the Enterprise. The shooting, low, constant hum of the warp core permeated the room. The walls, lined with Jefferies tubes, consoles, and conduits, were bathed in an eerie blue glow, casting long, angular shadows across the room. To his left, the colossal warp core pulsed with an almost hypnotic rhythm, the central conduit of the ship's power.
LaForge and Quinteros were arguing over something to do with the warp core containment field, while Barclay looked uncomfortable but unwilling to interrupt. The argument ceased as Tyson cleared his throat, trepidation clear on their faces. He asked, "What seems to be the problem?"
LaForge spoke first. "Inquisitor Tyson. We were just discussing the efficiency of the warp core containment field. Quinteros here thinks we should reroute the plasma flow through a secondary conduit, but I believe it'll only create more problems."
Quinteros, a stout man with a stern expression, countered, "My idea would increase the power output, making the Enterprise more formidable. But LaForge here is too cautious and unwilling to take risks."
Tyson surveyed the two engineers, both visibly on edge. He could sense the animosity between them and knew that Engineering would not function efficiently if the two couldn't resolve their differences. He turned to Barclay, who seemed to have an opinion but hesitated to voice it.
"Barclay," Tyson said, making the man jump slightly. "You've been quiet. What's your take on this?"
Barclay, looking nervous, stammered, "Well, sir, I think we could try Lieutenant Quinteros's idea, but with additional safeguards to ensure that it doesn't compromise the ship's systems. If it doesn't work, we can always revert to the original configuration."
Tyson clapped, impressing his appreciation for Barclay's diplomacy. "That gentlemen, is how compromise works. Get used to it because there will be more of it going on around here. Lieutenant, don't be hesitant to make suggestions if you have a potential solution." The new Inquisitor continued, "I'm not an engineer, so I won't tell you how to do your jobs. But remember, our priority is to keep the Enterprise running smoothly and efficiently. This is a new ship, and I'm sure there will be opportunities to push its capabilities in combat in the future. Until then, let's put our differences aside and make sure this boat is running as expected first. Diagnostics and optimization before performance enhancements seem prudent."
"Now that that's settled," Tyson said, looking at each engineer in turn. "I need you to explain to me everything about this ship. I need to know its warp capabilities, weapons, combat estimations, everything."
Quinteros straightened his uniform and began, "The Enterprise is the culmination of all the technologies the Terran Empire has been able to develop, reverse engineer, and acquire. It can separate the saucer to create multiple combat-ready ships. It is equipped with holodecks for ground battle simulations, and replicator technology to keep its crew fed."
Geordi took over, his voice alight with excitement. "The saucer section has an engineering area and a warp core capable of Warp 7 while separated. It's armed with 8 Type-10 Phaser arrays and a Phaser Lance. The Stardrive section is capable of warp 9.9 and is also armed with 8 Type-10 phaser arrays and 2 rapid fire photon torpedo launchers, capable of firing volleys of 10 photon torpedoes."
Barclay, looking nervous, continued. "The ship also contains a cloaking device, allowing us to become virtually invisible to enemy sensors. This, coupled with the deflector shields that can withstand a sustained assault from most starships, makes the Enterprise a formidable adversary."
"And let's not forget the advanced tractor beams and deflector array," Geordi added. "With those, we can push or pull objects several times the size of this ship, and the deflector can emit a variety of energy types, useful for both defense and offense."
Quinteros finished, "Furthermore, the Enterprise is equipped with the latest in sensor technology. In short, this ship is the most advanced, powerful vessel in the Terran Empire's fleet by an order of magnitude."
Tyson's eyes glimmered with a dangerous curiosity, "What are the limitations of the cloaking device?" he asked, his gaze shifting from one engineer to another.
Geordi was the one to respond. "Significant," he admitted, his brow furrowing in thought. "With a ship this size, it can't be used with the deflector shields, warp drive, or weapons. Also, it's physically located in the stardrive section, so if the ship is separated, the saucer section won't have access to the cloak."
Tyson nodded, processing the information before moving on to his next question. "You say the sensors are advanced. Could they detect a cloaked vessel?"
A thick silence enveloped the room, the question hanging heavily in the air. Each of the engineers carefully considered the question. Quinteros shifted uncomfortably before finally breaking the silence. "We studied the cloaking devices extensively while creating the cloaking screen on Utopia Planitia. We didn't get to do much testing penetrating the net though, we just didn't have time and it wasn't a priority." He sighed, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "We don't know how effective the Enterprise's cloak is, nor how well the sensors will work against cloaked ships. The Empire doesn't have many skirmishes with the Klingons these days. The Cardassians generally keep us penned in. The Klingons don't see the honor in battling us anymore."
Tyson listened carefully, storing away the information for later use. Despite the uncertainty, he appreciated the engineers' honesty. It was clear they were all dedicated to their roles and took pride in the capabilities of the Enterprise. He only wondered how much the men could accomplish if they just put aside their differences and worked together as a cohesive unit.
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
~~LEMONS BEGIN~~
The doors to the senior officer quarters hissed open, revealing the dimly lit room beyond. Tyson stepped in, his gaze immediately drawn to the figure lounging on a plush couch. It was Inquisitor Deanna Troi, her raven hair cascading down her shoulders, her dress clinging to her curves like a second skin. The dress was made of shimmering fabric that revealed more than it concealed, catching the dim light in a hypnotizing dance.
"Inquisitor Tyson," she purred, her dark eyes meeting his with an inscrutable glint, "what can I do for you?" She rose languidly from the couch, moving with a feline grace that made her appear as if she were floating rather than walking.
Tyson cleared his throat, doing his best to maintain his composure. He explained his purpose, "I came to see if there were any crew who were disloyal and needed my attention."
"None yet," she replied, her voice carrying a note of disappointment. As she spoke, she closed the distance between them, moving towards Tyson with a calculated seductiveness. Her dress danced around her legs as she moved. The material was sheer, almost translucent, and left little to the imagination. The dress was cut daringly low, revealing the soft curves of her body. She was a mere breath away from him now.
She reminded Tyson. "Picard ordered us to work closely." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, the words hanging heavy in the air between them. "I have just one question for you."
Troi's nearness was an undeniable siren's call, the tantalizing scent of her perfume wafting around Tyson, clinging to the air between them. She broke the tense silence, her voice low and teasing, "Have you raised that Perform skill yet?"
Tyson's lips curled into a lopsided grin, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Why don't we test it and find out?" he suggested, his tone light but laden with suggestion.
Troi's response was a coy smile, her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Are you asking again?" she asked her voice a low purr that sent a shiver down Tyson's spine.
He took that as an invitation. He closed the distance between them, his arms circling her slender waist, pulling her close. Their bodies melded together, heat seeping through the scant fabric of her dress, setting his senses aflame. He tilted his head, capturing her lips with his in a searing kiss, stealing a taste of the sweet wine she'd been sipping. Troi melted against him, her arms winding around his neck as she returned his kiss with equal fervor.
The world outside ceased to exist, the universe shrinking down to the two of them. It was a moment of stolen intimacy. For an instant, the disloyal crew, and Klingons and Cardassians enemies didn't matter.
Tyson read the invitation in Troi's dark, smoky eyes. He reached up, his fingers brushing against the delicate fabric of her dress, tracing the edges that clung to her shoulders. He slid his hands along the contours of her arms, his touch feather-light against her skin. The dress fell away as if it were water, pooling at her feet.
Troi now stood before him, revealed in the semi-darkness of the room, her body adorned in nothing but a pair of black panties. Her skin was a canvas of starlight and shadow, the curves of her feminine silhouette accentuated by the soft, ambient lighting. The soft glow of the room's lights highlighted the gentle slope of her shoulders, the curve of her waist, and the enticing shape of her hips. The contrast of the black fabric against her skin was striking, the intimate garment hinting at the secrets it kept beneath.
Tyson took a moment to drink in the sight of her, a vision of sensuality and strength that left him breathless. Troi stood in her raw, unguarded beauty, her eyes meeting Tyson's with a challenging glint.
The intensity in the room seemed to swell as Tyson rose to Troi's unspoken challenge. His lips met hers in a hungry, searing kiss that spoke of an eager, primal desire. He claimed her mouth with a fierce urgency. As the kiss broke, the room seemed to spin, the universe reduced to the intoxicating taste of Troi on his lips. His lips traveled the path of his hands, leaving a trail of heated kisses down her body. The journey was slow and purposeful, each soft, wet kiss a brand on her skin. His tongue traced the contours of her abdomen, down to the delicate hollow of her navel, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. As his fingers slipped beneath the remaining barrier of her panties, he was gentle, mindful of her reaction. There was a brief moment of hesitation, and then the last vestiges of fabric were gone, leaving her bare and vulnerable to his gaze. The sight of her was breathtaking, the allure of her femininity intoxicating.
Troi's hands wrapped around Tyson's head, a silent command that needed no words. Tyson was unflinching in his commitment. He allowed her to pull him into her. His tongue skillfully explored her intimate regions. Each move he made was calculated to elicit the most pleasure, and each was dedicated to her satisfaction.
Her response was immediate and profound. Troi's back arched in ecstasy, her grip on his hair tightening. The room echoed with the sweet symphony of her pleasure, each sigh and moan adding to the sensuous melody. The sight of her, completely lost in the sensations he was providing, was a powerful aphrodisiac, fueling his desire. Tyson's enthusiasm toward pleasing Troi was unwavering, his tongue deftly exploring the heat of her core.
As her knees began to buckle, he shifted his hold on her, his muscular arms strong and secure around her. He led her back to the plush couch. Tyson sat, sinking into the soft cushions. He guided Troi onto his lap. A quick use of his Inventory stored his clothes, leaving him in a state of undress that matched her own.
Her knees found a comfortable resting place on either side of him, her figure poised enticingly above his own. There was a moment of breathless anticipation before she lowered herself onto him, her soft moan filling the room. Her hips began a slow, tantalizing rhythm against his, her every movement a deliberate tease.
Her smile was bewitching, the glint in her eyes a clear challenge. Tyson rose to meet it, his hands finding purchase on her hips. His grip was firm, encouraging her movements. He guided her, the rhythm increasing steadily until she was moving faster and deeper, her body undulating on his in a dance as old as time.
Her climax was spectacular, her body convulsing in pleasure. The sight of her, so entirely consumed by ecstasy, was enough to tip him over the edge. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the room echoing with the sensual symphony of their shared pleasure. As the waves of their climax ebbed, they remained entwined, lost in the intoxicating afterglow of their passion.
Troi's body went slack against Tyson, her breaths heavy and erratic, the flush of her skin evidence of her recent climax. But Tyson wasn't done. His hands gripped her hips to continue their intimate dance. He moved her with a steady rhythm, her body light in his grasp.
Despite her evident fatigue, Troi's eyes flashed with surprise and renewed desire as Tyson shifted their positions, laying her gently on her back. One of his knees found purchase on the couch, and his other foot was planted firmly on the ground. The new angle of penetration afforded him deeper access allowing him to increase the intensity of his thrusts.
Troi's eyes widened as her telepathic control slipped. She felt the invasion of his thoughts. The raw, animalistic intent behind each thrust echoed through her mind. It was a whirlwind of sensations, the physical and mental stimulations intertwining into a heady cocktail of pleasure.
Her body responded before she could think, another climax built swiftly within her. She reached out to push him away, her body overstimulated, but Tyson was relentless. He captured her hands within his firm grip as he continued to thrust into her. His strokes drove her to the brink of another powerful orgasm. Her body convulsed under him, her cries of pleasure filling the room as she surrendered to the intense sensations.
As the aftershocks of Troi's climax ebbed, Tyson moderated his movements, his rhythm slowing to a languid pace. His body was a wall of heat against her, pressing her into the soft cushion of the couch as he continued his intimate ministrations. Leaning into her, he captured her lips in a kiss that was as much a demand as it was a promise. His chest pressed against hers, and the feeling of their bare skin touching amplified the intimacy of their connection. The new angle of his body created a new angle of penetration. His head brushed against her most sensitive spot. Each thrust caused her inner walls to clench around him, the friction of her inner ridges heightened his pleasure as his crown dragged through her depths.
Troi's body responded instinctively, the pleasure coursing through her in waves. The combination of his continued thrusting, the pressure against her G-spot, and the sensation of his body against hers pushed her toward another peak. Tyson, too, teetered on the edge, the slickness and tightness of her becoming too much for him to bear.
With a final thrust, he released within her. The sensation combined with the telepathic sensation of his orgasm triggered her climax. Their bodies moved in sync, riding out their shared orgasm, their cries of satisfaction intermingling in the otherwise quiet room. They clung to each other, their bodies spent and sated, their hearts pounding against each other in the aftermath of their intense coupling.
Perform Skill Increased! (9)
The only sound in the quiet officer's quarters was the steady rhythm of Deanna's breaths. Tyson propped up on one elbow and watched her sleep, his free hand tracing idle patterns on her bare back. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the enticing curves of her body outlined by the contrasting shadows. Her lips, usually so articulate and knowing, were slightly parted in sleep, a hint of vulnerability that was seldom seen when she was awake. Her dark, ebony hair splayed across the pillow, strands curling around her face like a dark halo. The gentle rise and fall of her chest was mesmerizing.
Despite the serenity of the moment, Tyson knew better. Beneath the placid exterior was a mind of great ability and cunning. Troi was a skilled manipulator, her telepathic abilities allowed her to twist and influence the minds of those around her. But now, his Corruption had brought her under his influence, the tables turned in his favor.
Inquisitor Deanna Troi (Lvl 6)
{Corruption - 908/600}
Defense: R: 20, F: 15, W: 23.
Hit Points: 100
Melee: Punch +2 (1d4+2)
Melee: Knife +6 (1d6+7)
Range: Phaser +4 (3d6+2)
Attributes: Strength 10, Dexterity 12, Constitution 10, Intelligence 14, Wisdom 14, Charisma 16.
Skills: Social +11, Computers +5, Stealth +2.
Traits: Natural Telepath, Inspire Confidence, Limited Combat Precognition.
Negative Status Effect: Corrupted Seed (x3)
His gaze fell on her closed eyes. Even in sleep, she seemed to hold a hint of a smile, as if privy to secrets only she could know. But now she was vulnerable… and not just because she was exhausted and sleeping. He held the upper hand. As he watched her sleep, he felt a sense of satisfaction. The Inquisitor, the manipulator, was now his. He would need to wait a few days, allowing his seeds to grow if he wanted to Absorb Corruption without her noticing. But after that carnal session, Tyson wasn't feeling patient. The process could be sped up if he went a few more rounds with her. His Constitution wouldn't allow him to take her now, but the System was predictable. A night's sleep would leave him completely refreshed. With that thought in mind, he scooped up Troi's sleeping form and brought her to her bed.
You have slept in a bed. All Hit Points and Corruption recovered and negative status effects were removed.
The soft ambient hum of the starship was the only sound that filled the room, creating a soothing backdrop to the quiet morning. As Tyson awoke, he was greeted by the sight of Deanna Troi's sleeping form, the contours of her body pressed snugly against his.
He started at her shoulder, his fingertips gently tracing the curve of her arm, down her waist, and to her hips. He was slow and deliberate, taking his time to explore her in the semi-darkness. As his fingers moved lower, his hand came to rest on her inner thigh, she stirred at his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. Still, she did not fully wake, remaining in the liminal space between sleep and consciousness. His touch grew bolder, exploring the intimacy of her body. His fingers found their way to her most sensitive area, his touch eliciting gasps of pleasure that roused her from her slumber. As she awoke, he guided himself into her from behind, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. With his other hand, he continued to caress her clit, his fingers stroking her with expertise that had her breath hitching in her throat.
He kept his pace slow and steady, each movement designed to draw out her pleasure. The sound of her moans filled the room, punctuating the otherwise quiet morning. Her body moved rhythmically against his, her hips bucking in time with his strokes. Beneath Tyson's tender ministrations, Deanna Troi was assaulted by a symphony of sensory pleasure. Each new sensation, each gasped breath was a melody that drew him in, compelling him to become part of it. But as the tempo increased, he found himself reaching the crescendo far too soon.
Through her telepathy, Troi caught wind of Tyson's thoughts. He was getting close. She chuckled and a mischievous glint flickered in her half-lidded eyes. Tyson slowed his strokes to prolong his release, but Deanna was having none of that.
Deftly, she captured his hands in her own, guiding them to her breasts. The sensation of her firm, supple flesh beneath his hands sent a jolt of arousal coursing through him. Taking control, Troi rocked her hips back to meet his. She dictated a rhythm that was both tantalizing and relentless.
Tyson was helpless to resist. As she continued to drive him on, he felt the pressure building, an inevitable finish rushing towards him. With a final, desperate thrust, he surrendered to the pleasure, reaching the peak of his orgasm with a low groan of satisfaction.
The corners of Troi's mouth curled upward into a smug smile as she felt Tyson surrender to his pleasure. She took pride in her ability to take him over the edge so swiftly. It was a justifiable revenge for the way he woke her. A lesson not to jostle her from the depths of slumber. Much to her surprise, though, she felt the evidence of his arousal still firm within her. She was certain he reached his climax, but he was unrelenting. Her eyes flicked open in startled pleasure as she realized the fun was not over yet. The glint of desire in Tyson's eyes was clear - he was not done.
Swiftly, Tyson switched roles, assuming control with skillful assertiveness. One hand moved from her breast down to her lower regions, drawing a surprised gasp from Troi as he began to tease her clit once more with skillful strokes. His other hand moved to her neck, applying a firm pressure that sent a thrill coursing through her veins.
Troi arched her back in response to his boldness. A sigh of pleasure struggled to escape her lips as Tyson resumed his rhythm, but failed to release his grip on her neck. Each measured thrust hit the perfect spot, sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body. Despite the hand around her neck, Troi felt no fear, only exhilaration. A surface scan of his mind revealed she could trust him. His thoughts revealed a certainty that no harm would come to her.
Her air-starved moans reached a pitch they could be heard in the corridors outside her quarters. The struggled sounds of pleasure Tyson forced from her as he drove them towards another peak. The combination of his deep thrusts and teasing fingers made her lose herself in the whirlwind of sensations. Troi reveled in his command, the powerful yet controlled display of his passion leaving her breathless with desire.
Perform Skill Increased! (11)
Athletics Skill Increased! (4)
Inquisitor Deanna Troi (Lvl 6)
{Corruption - 2728/600}
Negative Status Effect: Corrupted Seed (x5)
In the languid aftermath of their lovemaking, Tyson leaned beside Troi, gently rolling his fingers across her back. His skillful kneading eased the tension from her body, eliciting soft moans of relaxation from the usually poised Inquisitor. Yet Tyson's motives were more than just providing pleasure; they had a strategic undertone. The veneer of a caring gesture masked his ulterior intent. Every touch was a leech, each stroke stealing small traces of Corruption, while she was too lost in the blissful daze to notice. The lovemaking and the dominance play were part of his plan to raise her Corruption to a level where he could siphon from her without taking away her abilities. Tyson's fingers danced across her back, tracing the curves of her muscles, lingering over the knots and tension before expertly easing them away. All the while, he continued to silently Absorb Corruption, feeling her telepathic abilities begin to infuse him.
As he explored her, his thoughts veered toward the enigma that was Deanna Troi. Her telepathic abilities gave her insight into the minds of others. Yet, despite her gifts, she'd seemingly been blind to his unique abilities. He couldn't help but wonder how this could be. Was his Corruption ability somehow immune to her psychic probing? Or was there more to it than that? Could it be that Troi knew of his Corruption and had willingly succumbed to it? And if so, why would she do that? What could she possibly gain? Was there something deeper, a motive hidden behind those beguiling eyes? The questions swirled in Tyson's mind, each query casting new shadows of doubt and curiosity. Yet, Tyson had no answers, and he wasn't sure if he would ever truly understand the intricacies of the woman he had just shared such an intimate moment with. And as unsettling as these thoughts were, they added an extra layer to the enigmatic Inquisitor Troi. For now, the questions remained unanswered, the mystery unsolved.
~~LEMONS END~~
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
Hidden Quest Complete!
Roddenberry's Universe V - Mind over Mattress
You've boldly gone where many have fantasized, but few have dared – the intimate depths of a Betazoid's mind...and body. Remember, it's not just about physical stamina but mental fortitude. After all, pillow talk takes on a whole new meaning when your partner can hear your every thought.
+1 Social skill
+1 Perform skill
X5 Corruption Pool Modifier (355)
Corruption Power Unlocked: Corruptive Inquisitor
Your corruption causes those it affects to view you in a more positive light. You can use Corruption to increase someone's reputation toward you. Anyone who you've Corrupted that recognizes you hold a title superior to theirs will be forced to follow your orders.
Power Activated: Absorb Corruption
Attribute Increased: Dexterity (12)
Trait Added: Limited Combat Precognition
Being able to read the mind of your opponents allows you to react to their attacks before their body begins to move. Gain a permanent +2 bonus to Reflex and Will Defense and Immunity to Sneak Attacks from non-telepathic targets.
Trait Added: Natural Telepath
You can establish a telepathic link with a creature within sight. Through the link, you can exchange emotions or a single thought, such as "Go!", "Help!", or "Danger!". The single thought restriction is removed if the target creature also has Natural Telepathy. Additionally, you can tell when any creature in your vicinity tells a lie.
Inquisitor Deanna Troi (Lvl 6)
{Corruption - 928/600}
Negative Status Effect: Corrupted Seed (x5)
The brig still had no customers, so Tyson moved through each department. His new telepathic abilities allowed him to know when those around him were lying, but not useful for determining loyalty unless he actively questioned crewmen. He assumed Troi's abilities were subtly different, or stronger since she had a much easier time with judging outside of interrogations. Or, perhaps it was simply she had more time to adjust to her powers.
Tyson's eyes scanned the crew at work. By all accounts, the Enterprise was running exceptionally well for an untested ship. The majority of difficulties they'd faced stemmed from getting the crew to work together and having enough personnel to fill all positions. The original crew for the shakedown cruise had 200 members. When Picard took over, he brought over 150 from the Stargazer. Combined they still fell well short of the 1,000 the Enterprise needed to be staffed effectively.
Tyson explored Deck 12 after checking on Selar in sickbay. There were several facilities on that deck, but one, in particular, attracted his attention. There was an arena, a full gladiator-style arena, on the starship. He marveled at the architecture of a structure that wouldn't be out of place in a scene from ancient Rome or Greece; finding himself in the stands overlooking the ten-foot drop to the sandy arena floor.
Commander William Riker (Lvl 8)
{Corruption - 0/960}
Defense: R: 24, F: 20, W: 19.
Hit Points: 120
Melee: Punch +6 (1d4+5)
Melee: Knife +6 (1d6+7)
Range: Phaser +7 (3d6+4)
Attributes: Strength 12, Dexterity 15, Constitution 12, Intelligence 13, Wisdom 11, Charisma 13.
Skills: Pilot +16, Computers +5, Engineering +5, Social +7.
Traits: Vehicular Evasion, Spacehound, Starship Raider.
The metallic clang of weapons and the grunts of exertion served as the soundtrack to his inspection. Crew members dotted the stands, some taking in the spectacle below, others placing bets on who would emerge victorious.
Behind Tyson, a crowd had gathered, following one of the ship's boldest fighters. The man was rumored to have gone toe-to-toe with Picard before the Captain had taken command. A man rumored to be one of the best pilots in the Terran Starfleet. And a man who was on a warpath, his march started by rumors that broke his heart and steeled his fist.
As Tyson surveyed the scene in the Arena, he was accosted by a man. His tall frame loomed in his path. It took him a moment to recognize Commander Riker. Riker's dark eyes were stormy, the light in them burning with a dangerous intensity. The commander quirked a brow, smirking as he asked, "Did you have fun?"
Confusion knitted Tyson's brow as he regarded his superior officer. "Did I have fun with what?" he responded, a touch of wariness seeping into his tone.
Riker's response was immediate and unexpected. With a roar of "With my girl!" he launched a fist toward Tyson.
But Tyson was already in motion, his new Limited Combat Precognition trait forewarned him of the impending strike. His body sidestepped the punch, moving as if on its own accord, leaving Riker to swing at thin air.
Taken aback by his missed target, Riker stumbled forward, off balance. Seizing the opportunity, Tyson shoved Riker's chest, the action propelling the commander backward. Riker stumbled over the low railing and hit the arena floor below. Hard. The thud reverberated in the ground below. His grunt of pain echoed off the walls as he took minor damage from the fall.
Tyson stood at the edge of the arena, looking down at Riker slowly getting back to his feet. He felt the weight of the spectators' gazes on him, the anticipation in the air almost tangible. He could hear the murmurings, and see the quick exchange of credits among the spectators. The unmistakable beep associated with activating a combadge to inform others of the situation repeated through the crowd. The big question hung in the air - would he jump into the arena and continue the brawl? As Tyson watched Riker rise, his mind raced. He could walk away, or he could see this confrontation through. His heart pounded in his chest, the thrill of the unexpected skirmish pumping adrenaline through his veins.
The low cacophony of the Enterprise sparring pits shifted to an expectant hush as Inquisitor Tyson's words rang out in the air. His smirk was as sharp as the cutting words projected through the arena. "Your girl? She was moaning under me all last night. Oh, and this morning. And maybe I'll take her again later tonight too… After I beat your ass!"
His voice resounded with a cocky, confident echo. As his taunts settled among the spectators, the shock in Riker's eyes was quickly replaced with blazing anger. Tyson's revelation had rattled the Commander, his jealousy ripping through him. His face turned a mottled shade of red, rage and humiliation pulsing through him.
The crowd's silence broke into a cacophony of jeers and cheers as Tyson jumped into the arena, his boots hitting the floor with a resounding thud. He stood, broad and unflinching.
Riker was fueled by wounded pride as he charged toward Tyson. His eyes were lit with the desire for retaliation, his expression was contorted with indignation, and his movement was unpredictable, fueled by raw emotion. But Tyson stood his ground. He wasn't just going to stand by. He was ready to fight, to establish his dominance, to play the game the Terran way. With a rush of adrenaline surging through his veins, Tyson braced himself for the impact. This was not a confrontation he was going to back away from.
Riker lunged at Tyson with a wild punch and a face contorted in fury. He sought to retaliate against the Inquisitior's audacious claim. Yet, Tyson moved with an uncanny fluidity, sidestepping the attack effortlessly. His newfound precognitive abilities gave him an edge, allowing him to anticipate Riker's movements. Tyson retaliated, attempting to use his superior strength to punch the commander. But Riker was quick on his feet and evaded the strike.
A gruff cheer erupted from the watching crew, their raucous voices echoing through the arena. Tyson's patience was beginning to pay off. He caught Riker off guard and punched him with all his Vulcan might. Riker stumbled back, wincing as he tried to absorb the brunt of the unexpected blow. Tyson capitalized on Riker's unbalanced state and landed a blow on his ribs. Riker was sent sprawling and wheezing. An approving cheer echoed throughout the sparring pits, the spectacle of the battle feeding their bloodlust.
Riker slowly rose. A low growl escaped his lips as he swung his fist again, this time his punch connected solidly with Tyson's side. Tyson grunted, but his smug grin never wavered. He retaliated with a powerful kick, sending Riker sprawling back onto the hard, cold floor of the arena once more.
The crowd's cheer reached a crescendo. The raw fervor of the crowd swelled as more crewmen flooded into the stands. The sound of their wild cheering reverberated through the sparring pit, echoing off the cold metallic walls and transforming into a feverish, almost primal chant. Word had spread that the Inquisitor and Commander were going at it in the arena. The crew was streaming in, hoping to catch a glimpse of the battle for the second-highest rank on the ship. The combatants had drawn the attention of the entire ship, the promise of a brutal gladiatorial bout too tantalizing to ignore.
Riker struggled to his feet. He attempted to lunge at Tyson once more, his fists swinging in an arc. But Tyson evaded, leaving Riker panting and gasping for air. Suddenly, a rough voice cut through the commotion, bellowing, "Kill the spoon-head! You can do it, commander!" A gruff cheer echoed the sentiment, an ominous consensus forming within the ranks of the spectators. The man then hurled a sheathed Klingon dagger into the fray. Riker seized the weapon, his face gleaming with newfound savagery. He unsheathed the blade, holding it aloft. The lethal gleam of the steel danced in the artificial light, and the crowd erupted in raucous approval.
For a fleeting moment, Tyson's confidence wavered. His opponent was armed now, the stakes had skyrocketed. But then, above the deafening din, he heard a familiar voice. Selar. Her Vulcan coolness contrasting the frenzied crowd, commanded, "Inquisitor, you must be victorious."
In a swift motion, Selar hurled a weapon into the pit. Tyson caught it, his eyes taking in the peculiar design. It was similar to a katar, but the pointed blade was replaced with a semi-circle one. Tyson instantly understood Selar's choice. This was a traditional Vulcan weapon, designed to take advantage of his Vulcan strength.
Riker, now armed with a dagger, glared across the arena at Tyson in a defiant challenge. Tyson gripped the Vulcan weapon tighter as he weighed the unfamiliar weapon in his hand. In his life, Tyson had never wielded such a weapon. The gravity of his lack of experience sank in. In the last few fights, he'd relied on his fists and his wits, never before needing a blade. But now, facing the dagger-wielding Riker, he needed an edge. Tyson had no Melee Weapon skill to rely on and knew that he wouldn't be able to defeat Riker using the Katar.
An idea sparked in Tyson's mind. His powers gave him a bonus to items saturated with his corruption. With this in mind, He channeled his Corruption into the Vulcan weapon, his hand trembling from adrenaline as he transferred his Corrupted Seed into the weapon. A nebulous haze of violet began to seep from his fingertips, tendrils of Corruption slithering down his arm, wrapping around the katar like a spectral glove.
The Corrupted Vulcan Katar took on an ethereal glow, the dim illumination from the purple mist pulsing like a dark heartbeat. It no longer felt like a separate entity, a foreign object in his hand. Instead, the katar became a seamless extension of himself.
Riker's eyes widened slightly. Tyson wielding a weapon was one thing, but the wisps of purple energy radiating from the weapon threw him off guard momentarily. The crowd, too, was hushed by the display, their rowdy cheers ebbing into awed whispers.
Tyson squared his shoulders and locked his gaze onto Riker. He'd staked his odds on his Corruption. Now, he was ready to face the enraged commander. The silence in the pit was punctured by the clang of Riker's dagger slicing through the air. His strike was swift but reckless, an attempt to gain a quick victory. Tyson, his senses honed by his Precognition, stepped back, letting the blade slice the air inches from his chest. The miss didn't deter Riker, but it gave Tyson the opening he needed. He lunged forward, the Corrupted katar slicing a vivid arc through the air. The blade bit into Riker's side, drawing a grimace of pain and surprise from the commander.
Riker roared, retaliating with a vicious jab of his dagger. Tyson was too slow to dodge, the blade grazing his side. The crowd roared in excitement, the glint of blood on steel rousing their anticipation.
Tyson took a swing at Riker, but the commander was quicker, managing to duck under the swinging blade. His counter-attack was swift, the dagger finding its mark again, drawing another line of crimson across Tyson's arm. The crowd cheered for Riker, the echo of their cries hanging heavy in the pit. Tyson's strikes with the katar seemed to go awry, his unfamiliarity with the weapon betraying him. Riker took advantage, his dagger slashing across Tyson's chest. The sting of the blade fueled Tyson's cold resolve.
With a war cry, Tyson swung the katar with all his might. The blade cut through the air, singing with lethal intent before it found its mark. The blow was solid, the katar biting deep into Riker, causing him to stagger back. Riker was hurt, but not defeated as he pressed the attack. His dagger darted out like a serpent's strike, cutting across Tyson's defenses and leaving another trail of blood. Tyson's retort with the katar was clumsy, his inexperience showing as his attack missed Riker by a wide margin.
Encouraged, Riker launched another quick strike. The dagger found its target again, the sharp sting of pain pulling a grimace from Tyson's face. He tried to counter, but Riker was faster, ducking under the blow and stepping back out of Tyson's reach. A frenzied cheer erupted from the crowd as Riker scored another hit, the sharp dagger slicing through Tyson's defenses again. Tyson seemed to be losing his focus, his katar attacks missing their target. He felt his energy wane, his breath becoming labored. Tyson sidestepped Riker's next attack, using his Precognition to avoid the blade. Before Riker could recover, Tyson retaliated, the katar plunging into Riker's back. Riker gasped, staggering under the impact.
With a battle cry, Tiker thrust his dagger forward, landing a solid hit on Tyson. The blade dug deep, blood staining the hilt. Tyson was weakening, his response with the katar was wild and off-mark. Riker was relentless, his dagger finding its mark again and again. Tyson, with each missed counterattack, grew weaker, his strength failing him. The crowd roared, sensing the end was near.
Just as Riker was about to land another hit, Tyson rallied. As Tyson's katar swung towards Riker, he could see the precise moment of realization dawn in Riker's eyes. The weapon's arc was unstoppable; it was aimed to finish the fight and end the man's life. But at the last second, Tyson's will infused the weapon, altering its nature. He had aimed a lethal blow, but he didn't want to kill Riker, just defeat him. The Katar bit into the Commander, an eruption of pain but Tyson willed it to only do Corruption damage. The blow drove Riker to his knees, but the strike was not fatal.
The onlookers watched with bated breath as Tyson straightened up, the katar still clutched in his hand. A ripple of response ran through the crowd, cheers of excitement mixed with boos of disappointment. The sentiment was divided, but the spectacle of the battle had them all on their feet. They had witnessed an exceptional display of combat, and even those who detested Tyson couldn't deny the thrill of the fight.
Tyson stood triumphant, his victory was marked by the echoes of the crowd, their shouts and cheers gradually diminishing into a heavy silence. Every eye was on him, the conquering victor, the agent of change. He let the quiet swell before he broke it with his words.
"By the laws of the Terran Empire, I have bested Commander Riker in combat," he began, his voice clear and resonating across the hushed pit. "His rights and position are now mine."
His gaze swept over the assembled crew, each one of them listening intently, their minds buzzing with anticipation. He gestured grandly to the world around them - the ringed arena, the bloodied floor, the excited crowd.
"But this..." He paused for effect, his voice laced with scorn. "This is why we remain weak. This is why the Cardassians and the Klingons mock us. We spill each other's blood with more fervor than we do theirs. We squabble amongst ourselves while our true enemies laugh at our folly."
His voice hardened, an undercurrent of conviction flowing through his words. "If we wish to break free from the confines of the Sol System, if we dream of taking the battle to our enemies, then we must stop murdering those who should stand beside us in the fight!"
He drew a deep breath, his words echoing in stunned silence. Then, his voice rang out, "Commander Riker will not die today. But let this be a lesson to you all. From this moment forward, if anyone aboard this vessel takes it upon themselves to kill another Terran, they will answer to me!"
His declaration reverberated through the silent arena, the oath hung in the air. The crowd was still, the weight of his words sinking in. Today, Tyson had not just won a battle. He had declared a new course, one that was less about petty internal squabbles and more about a unified front against their true enemies. He had thrown down the gauntlet, and only time would tell how the crew would respond.
Martial Arts Skill Increased! (11)
Skill Unlocked!
Melee Weapons (level 1) - This skill determines combat effectiveness with any melee weapon. Skill level cannot exceed governing attribute, Lowest of Dexterity or Strength.
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
The bitter taste of battle still lingered in his mouth, the adrenaline from the fight coursing through his veins. Ignoring the crowd, he looked down at the limp form of Riker, who lay groaning on the ground. Without a word, he reached down and grasped Riker by his collar, his Vulcan strength easily hoisting the beaten Commander. His face was a mask as he began to drag Riker across the deck toward the brig. The sight of Tyson bloodied but victorious, hauling the defeated Riker to the brig was a sight all would remember. Before that battle, few had seen Inquisitor Tyson in action. Afterward, the man became an Enterprise legend. The blood smear left from dragging the beaten First Officer marked the halls of the ship like a red carpet.
He felt a ripple of unease course through the crew as they watched their once formidable commander reduced to such a state. But there was no sympathy in their eyes, this was the Terran way.
Reaching down, Tyson tapped the metallic insignia on his chest, the familiar chirp of the combadge resonating through the silent hallway. "Inquisitor Tyson to Selar," he spoke into the device, his voice echoing in the cold corridor.
"Selar here," came the prompt response, the Vulcan's voice clear and composed as always. The lingering noise from the arena could still be heard in the background.
"I need you in the brig," he said tersely, his gaze drifting over the unconscious form of Riker. "Commander Riker requires immediate medical attention."
There was a pause on the other end, but Selar was unwavering in her commitment. "Understood, Inquisitor. I am on my way."
As Tyson cut the connection, he couldn't help but reflect on the tumultuous morning. From a passionate tryst with the Inquisitor to a near-death battle with the First Officer, it had been nothing short of eventful, and it wasn't even noon.
Selar arrived promptly at the brig, her Vulcan efficiency never failing to impress. Her eyebrows arched slightly at the sight of Riker sprawled out on the floor, the severity of his injuries clear.
"Inquisitor," she started, keeping her tone as neutral as ever, "Commander Riker should be transported to sickbay. His injuries are extensive and will require immediate medical intervention."
But Tyson held up a hand, stopping her. "That won't be necessary," he replied, his voice steady. "I need him here. Can you stabilize him?"
There was a moment of silence before Selar nodded. Despite the unusual request, she didn't hesitate. With precise movements, she started to work on Riker. Once she had stabilized him to the best of her abilities, she stepped back. The tension in the brig was palpable, even to the emotionally disciplined Vulcan. She watched as Tyson pulled out a disruptor, the weapon glowing with ominous purple energy. He aimed it at Riker, firing a beam that suffused the unconscious commander. To Selar's surprise, there was no apparent damage, the energy simply sinking into Riker's body. Then Tyson did something even more shocking. He picked up the Vulcan katar that she had tossed in the arena, its semi-circle blade gleaming ominously. And with a swift, unhesitant motion, he plunged it straight through Riker's gut.
Selar watched in stunned silence. Despite her Vulcan emotional control, she couldn't help the feeling of surprise that swept over her. But she also knew that there were many things she did not understand about Tyson's methods. All she could do was watch and wait to see what his next move would be. She was fully prepared to spring into action, expecting a flood of blood to pour from Riker's wound, yet none came. Her eyes studied the situation carefully, her medical knowledge confounded by this anomaly.
Tyson seemed to anticipate her unspoken question. He broke the silence, "The weapon isn't causing physical harm. It's inflicting Corruption damage," he explained, his tone patient, almost scholarly. "Riker's not bleeding. He's gaining Corruption instead."
The words didn't make much sense to Selar, at least not initially. He had explained Corruption to her days earlier, but she didn't have a complete picture. As Tyson continued to explain, the mystery began to unravel itself. "I've experimented with a variety of methods, you see," Tyson continued. "Phasers and disruptors cause instantaneous Corruption, never going above the target's maximum value. However, a method that causes ongoing damage, such as suffocation or bleeding, well, that can cause Corruption to continue accumulating."
Leaving the katar lodged in Riker's abdomen, Tyson took a step back, his gaze never leaving the unconscious commander. His eyes were fixed on the interface values only he could see as if watching some invisible system at work.
Selar found herself lost in Tyson's explanations, the details of this 'Corruption' phenomenon entirely outside her usual field of knowledge. Yet she couldn't deny the evidence before her eyes. The scene was surreal, almost horrifying, but also incredibly intriguing. Even though the concept of 'Corruption' was foreign to her, she found herself drawn into Tyson's experiment. For despite the horrific sight of Riker impaled, there was a perverse kind of science at play, an unseen force that was rewriting the laws she had always known. She couldn't deny that it was a reality. Even what little he'd explained previously had made a sort of sense. She couldn't deny that she felt more hearty after being intimate with him. Her appearance had also changed in subtle ways. She never considered herself a great beauty, but after the first night with Tyson, she could see the improved symmetry in her face, and the slight increase in the curvature of her waist and hips.
Tyson's gaze never wavered from the display of interface values that were invisible to all but him. Selar watched in silence, a sense of unease prickling at the back of her mind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tyson reached forward and pulled the katar from Riker's abdomen. The blade came out smoothly, its wicked edge unsullied by even a trace of blood. Riker, still unconscious, showed no sign of distress or even awareness. The sight was unnerving, almost supernatural.
"Three thousand six hundred Corruption," Tyson muttered to himself, as though keeping track of an internal score.
Commander William Riker (Lvl 8)
{Corruption - 4560/960}
To Selar's astonishment, once the katar was removed, there was no wound on Riker's abdomen, no evidence of the brutal penetration that had just occurred. It was as if the blade had never been there at all. But Tyson was not finished. As Selar looked on, he initiated a process that was wholly unfamiliar to her. He began to 'Absorb Corruption', a term he had mentioned earlier. Tyson's eyes took on a glazed, far-off look as if he was sifting through a trove of knowledge only he could access.
For a moment, Selar was sure she saw a flicker of surprise pass over his face. Then he began to mutter under his breath, listing out a series of attributes and traits: "Dexterity, Piloting skill, Elusive Dogfighter trait…"
As she listened to Tyson, Selar realized what he was doing. He was absorbing more than just 'Corruption'. He was absorbing Riker's skills, his experience, and his knowledge. It was as though he was siphoning off pieces of Riker's persona, adding them to his own. It was a chilling thought, yet undeniably fascinating. And Tyson, it seemed, was just beginning to tap into its potential.
Commander William Riker (Lvl 8)
{Corruption - 1680/960}
Power Activated: Absorb Corruption
Attribute Increased: Dexterity (15)
Skill Increased: Pilot (15)
Trait Added: Vehicular Evasion
If the Vehicle you are piloting is hit by an Area Attack, it takes half damage if the attack hits. If the Area Attack misses your Vehicle, it takes no damage. You cannot use this Talent when your Vehicle is stationary or disabled.
Captain Picard, in his crisp, sleeveless uniform, appeared in the doorway of the brig. His stern gaze took in the room: Riker, unconscious in his cell, Tyson standing vigil, and Selar lingering nearby. A faint hint of disapproval lingered in his eyes.
"Inquisitor Tyson," Picard began, "Report."
Tyson straightened, offering a nod of respect to his superior. "Sir. Following Terran customs, Commander Riker attacked me, and we engaged in a contest for dominance in the sparring pits. I emerged victorious."
"Yes. I heard about your fight, and about your... declaration," Picard continued, pacing the brig with a measured stride. His voice was neutral, though his words carried a certain weight. "It's a bold move, Tyson, to state that intra-Terran conflict should be eliminated on this vessel. It's a stance I can agree with. But, enforcing such a rule, as it's your prerogative, will be your duty." Picard gestured to Riker, he spoke disapprovingly, "This, however, presents a logistical challenge. You've put me in a difficult position. How am I supposed to resolve ranks and duties?"
Tyson considered the Captain's words, his expression thoughtful. "I wouldn't mind the title of Commander," he confessed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But the paperwork of an executive officer... assigning duty shifts and overseeing daily operations, that seems a rather dull occupation."
Picard paused at that, his gaze lingering on Tyson. "Indeed," he responded a touch of humor in his otherwise stern expression. "That particular role does require a certain... bureaucratic tenacity."
After a moment of thought, Picard made his decision. "Riker will retain his rank and duties as First Officer," he declared, looking to Tyson. "As for you, Tyson, you will maintain your special rank of Inquisitor but will now be considered equivalent in rank to a Commander. Congratulations on yet another promotion. Let's not shoot for Captain any time soon, understood? And I expect both of you to cooperate to maintain the functionality of this ship. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Tyson confirmed with a salute, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.
After Picard's departure, Tyson turned his gaze to Riker, still unconscious in his cell. His earlier triumph had dissipated, leaving only a sense of relief that the ordeal was over. Carefully, he roused Riker, lending him a steadying hand as he woke.
Riker blinked open his eyes, confusion clouding his gaze before memories of their encounter came back. He looked at Tyson, studying him as though he was seeing him in a new light. "I didn't think you'd spare me," Riker admitted, his voice rough from the aftermath of their brutal skirmish. He pushed himself up with a grimace, the echo of pain clear in his features.
Tyson merely shrugged, an unreadable expression on his face. "I am not your enemy, Commander. We're on the same side. That's what this was about."
Riker nodded, leaning heavily on Tyson as they made their way to the sickbay. He looked rather humbled, his usually brash demeanor replaced by a quiet introspection. After a moment of silence, Riker let out a low chuckle.
"Well, I suppose I should thank you," he said, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "You were the superior combatant. In hindsight, Inquisitor Troi hardly seems worth the beating."
Tyson laughed at that, the sound echoing through the sterile corridors. "Be that as it may," he replied, "You can't say it wasn't an exciting morning."
"True enough," Riker said, grinning despite his situation. "You can keep the witch, Tyson. She's all yours."
Despite the levity in Riker's words, Tyson sensed an undercurrent of truth. There was an understanding between them now, a mutual respect born out of battle.
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
The turbolift doors slid open, and Tyson stepped onto the bridge of the ISS Enterprise, a vivid panorama of stars visible on the expansive viewscreen that dominated the front wall. The buzz of activity filled the air as the bridge crew attended to their duties, the hum of technology a low constant amidst the sporadic beeping of the control panels.
At the center of it all, sat Captain Jean-Luc Picard, his commanding presence filling the bridge. He was flanked by Inquisitor Troi and Commander Riker. Riker's face, which usually held a roguish grin, was set in a serious expression, his eyes focused on the readouts before him. Despite the fight, he looked to be in remarkably good health, a testament to Selar and Doctor Crusher's skill. Behind Riker, at the tactical station, stood Commander Edward Jellico his stern demeanor matching his reputation as a no-nonsense, by-the-book officer. At the front of the bridge were the Ops and Navigation stations, manned by Data and Yar. The old warhawk, Jellico, had been giving Tyson tips when the sensors indicated incoming vessels. Data reported, "Terran starships on an intercept course."
Picard leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "Specifics, Data."
Data's fingers danced across the console as he gathered the information. "It is the Excelsior-Class ISS Melbourne, the New Orleans-Classes Kyushu and Rutledge, Miranda-Class Saratoga, and the ISS Yamaguchi, an Ambassador-Class, Captain."
Picard's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Seems like the Empire isn't too pleased with our little coup." He turned to face his crew. "Red alert, battle stations."
Tyson and Jellico exchanged a glance before returning their attention to the tactical station. The crew of the Enterprise prepared for battle, the tension in the air thick with anticipation. It was time to prove their worth to the Empire.
As the fleet of Terran starships arrived, the Yamaguchi opened hailing frequencies. Picard accepted, a sly grin spreading across his face. Marcelo Libório, Captain of the Yamaguchi, appeared on the screen, but the man who spoke was Admiral Hanson, Picard's former captain.
"What were you thinking, Picard?" Admiral Hanson's voice was laced with contempt. "Taking over the Enterprise?"
Picard's smile turned venomous. "The Enterprise needed a strong leader, someone capable of making the hard decisions. I'm that leader, Admiral."
To Picard's surprise, Jellico stepped forward, "Captain Picard is right. He has my support."
Admiral Hanson's eyes narrowed, but his expression softened. "Very well." He spoke to one of the officers on the bridge, "Ops, stand down from red alert."
Hanson addressed Picard again, "If you have Jellico's support, I'll allow the change of command. But don't think this means you're off the hook."
As the tension in the room dissipated, Data spoke up. "Captain, long-range sensors are detecting more incoming vessels."
Hanson's face reappeared on the screen. "They've all arrived."
Data's fingers flew across the console. "The vessels are Cardassian, Captain."
Picard's eyes gleamed with excitement. "It seems the Cardassians want a piece of us as well. Let's show them just how foolish their decision is. Red alert, battle stations. We'll fight alongside the impromptu fleet and crush our enemies together."
The bridge erupted with activity as the crew prepared for the impending confrontation. As the Terran and Cardassian fleets closed in, the stage was set for a battle that would test the mettle of both sides.
The Enterprise bridge crew watched in tense anticipation as the Cardassian fleet dropped out of warp, their angular, greenish-gray Galor-class cruisers imposing a menacing presence on the viewscreen. Their hulls bristled with weapons and dark intent. It was only moments before the lead Cardassian ship opened communications, and the image of a man known for his cunning and ruthlessness filled the screen.
Gul Dukat's cold, reptilian eyes glared at the assembled crew, his chiseled Cardassian features framed by dark, shoulder-length hair. His gold-trimmed, gray uniform bore the markings of his rank and authority, while his stature and presence demanded attention.
"Captain Picard," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "We meet again. I must admit, I'm not surprised to find you in command of an unknown Terran Warship. You always were drawn to power."
Picard stared back at Dukat, refusing to be intimidated. "Gul Dukat, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"
Dukat's eyes narrowed, and a sinister smile spread across his face. "I'm here to demand your surrender, Captain. Hand over the warship, and we will allow your fleet to depart unharmed. Resist, and you'll face the full might of the Cardassian Union."
As the bridge crew exchanged uneasy glances, Picard remained composed, his voice unyielding. "You know as well as I do that we won't surrender without a fight, Dukat. Are you prepared to face the consequences?"
Dukat's smile broadened, baring his sharp teeth. "Oh, Captain, I've been looking forward to this moment. You have no idea how satisfying it will be to crush the pride of the Terran Empire beneath my heel."
The tension on the bridge escalated as both sides braced for the impending confrontation. As the exchange between Picard and Dukat continued, Tyson's console detected random unidentified emissions.
As Captain Picard and Gul Dukat engaged in an elaborate dance of posturing and political banter, Tyson found himself focusing on the readouts displayed on his console. The intriguing emissions were more interesting, a puzzle that begged for his attention. Tyson lacked the necessary skills to identify them. So, quietly, he forwarded the readings to Lieutenant Commander Data, knowing the android's quick-processing mind was ideal for such mysteries.
Data, who was situated at the operations console, remained outwardly impassive, giving no indication of the flurry of activity taking place within his positronic brain. His fingers, however, took on a life of their own, moving rapidly across the console's controls with a finesse that would make even the most accomplished musician envious.
A brief moment passed before Tyson's console pinged with a new message. It was from Data, the contents confirming Tyson's hunch: the mysterious emissions were indeed tachyons.
'Possible sources of tachyon emissions,' the message read, 'include, but are not limited to:
1. High-energy particle accelerators and reactors.
2. Advanced propulsion systems.
3. Cloaked vessels.
4. Temporal anomalies or rifts.
5. Transwarp conduits and some forms of subspace technology.
Tyson's heart skipped a beat as he read over the possibilities. Cloaked vessels. It would explain why Gul Dukat was so confident when he didn't seem to have an advantage in the inevitable battle. If the Cardassians had Klingon backup cloaked nearby, the battle wouldn't be a guaranteed Terran victory.
Tyson needed to inform Picard but didn't want to alert the Cardassians to his discovery. Desperate, he tried to activate his Natural Telepathy, hoping to get the attention of Inquisitor Troi, so she could inform Picard.
Dukat smirked at Picard's defiance. "Captain, you always were a thorn in our side. But your stubbornness won't save you now. My fleet is superior in both numbers and firepower. Your new toy is no match for us."
Inquisitor Troi, sensing the heightened emotions on the bridge, suddenly felt a mental shout from Tyson. Her brow furrowed as she honed in on his urgent thoughts. "Hidden vessels!" Tyson's voice echoed in her mind. "Tachyon emissions suggest cloaked ships nearby. Must inform Picard without alerting Cardassians."
Troi's eyes widened with understanding, and she locked eyes with Picard, subtly conveying the message through their shared telepathic connection.
"Hidden ships, Captain," her voice echoed in Picard's mind. "Tyson detected tachyon emissions. Possible cloaked vessels in the vicinity."
Picard, now aware of the potential danger, changed his approach. With a practiced air of resignation, he addressed Dukat. "Very well, Gul Dukat. Perhaps it is time the Terran Empire took an active effort to improve relations with our Cardassian neighbors. We will make preparations to abandon the Enterprise."
Dukat's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but his triumphant grin returned. "I'm glad you see reason, Captain. We will monitor your progress. Don't attempt any tricks, or your entire fleet will be destroyed."
As the communication was cut, the viewscreen returned to the image of the Cardassian fleet hovering ominously nearby. The tension on the bridge eased slightly as Picard turned to address his crew.
"Alright, everyone. We've bought ourselves some time. Let's use it wisely to come up with a plan to deal with these Cardassians and any potential hidden threats."
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
Galaxy-X-Class (Enterprise)
{Corruption - 0/171200}
Defense: R: 10, Size: 16.
Shields: 780
Hit Points: 290
Attacks: +15 (Type X Phasers: 16d13) (2x Rapid Fire Photon Torpedo: 2x10d35) (Phaser Lance: 111)
Skills: Pilot +15, Heavy Weapons +1.
Vehicular Combat: Once per round (as a Reaction), when you are piloting a Vehicle or Starship, you may negate a weapon hit by making a successful Pilot check. The DC of the Skill Check is equal to the result of the attack roll you wish to negate. In addition, while you are piloting a Vehicle, you are considered proficient with pilot-operated Vehicle Weapons.
Galor-Class.
{Corruption - 0/18200}
Defense: R: 8, Size: 14.
Shields: 52
Hit Points: 78
Attacks: +8 (Spiral Wave Disruptor: 9d3) (Heavy Spiral Wave Disruptor: 1d13)
B'Rel-Class Bird of Prey.
{Corruption - 0/33600}
Defense: R: 12, Size: 12.
Shields: 115
Hit Points: 165
Attacks: +5 (Pulse Disruptor Cannon: 3d13) (Photon Torpedo: 2d35)
The enemy ships looming in the viewscreen were a dangerous challenge, but Picard knew he had some of the most talented officers in the Terran Empire at his disposal.
"Data, Tyson, Jellico," he began, his voice carrying the steady confidence of a seasoned commander. "This is where we prove our worth."
He turned first to the unflappable android, "Data," Picard commanded, "You'll be in control of the phaser lance. Timing is crucial. As soon as you have a vessel in your sights, I want you to fire. Show no mercy."
Then, he shifted his gaze, "Jellico, you're on the ship's phasers. I know your understanding of Cardassian tactics is second to none. Use it."
Finally, Picard turned to Tyson, the newcomer who had proven himself a fierce and surprisingly skilled operator. "Inquisitor Tyson, you'll be responsible for our evasive maneuvers and torpedo firing. I was present when you trained with Lieutenant Yar. Your improvement was, frankly, beyond anything I've seen before. I trust you've picked up those evasive maneuvers she was adamant you learned. It's time to put your skills to the test and earn your rank."
His gaze swept across the faces of his officers. There was a stillness on the bridge, a tense quiet that reflected the magnitude of the upcoming battle.
"Everyone ready?" Picard asked, but his tone suggested it wasn't a question. He expected nothing less than their absolute readiness. After all, they were part of the Terran Empire's most formidable starship crew, and it was their time to shine.
The ships of the Cardassian fleet were aligned in a deadly formation, their predatory countenance promising an explosive engagement. Unbeknownst to them, this array provided the perfect setting for the Enterprise's deadly Phaser Lance. Their lead ship was poised directly in front of the Galaxy-X class vessel.
"Engage!" Picard's voice rang out with authority and immediacy, resonating through the tense atmosphere of the bridge. Data, emotionless as ever, complied. His fingers moved across the console with a precision only an android could muster, and with a resonating hum, the Phaser Lance sprung to life. A surge of brilliant energy punctured the silence of space, slamming into the lead Cardassian vessel. The beam sheared through the hull with devastating force, crippling the ship and leaving it adrift.
Simultaneously, Jellico's calculating eyes took in the second Cardassian vessel. His familiarity with Cardassian tactics allowed him to foresee their maneuvers. He waited for the opportune moment and then he unleashed the phaser turrets from both the Saucer and Stardrive sections. The enemy ship recoiled under the assault, its shields fell and its hull singed under the onslaught. The ship wasn't destroyed, but it wouldn't be contributing to the battle.
Tyson executed a daring evasive maneuver. With the cool precision of a veteran pilot, thanks to the skill he absorbed from Commander Riker, he spun the Enterprise into a forward roll – a variation of attack pattern gamma – an unpredictable pattern that simultaneously evaded enemy fire and utilized the unique layout of the Enterprise's weapons. The maneuver brought both the front and rear of the Enterprise into firing position in tandem, allowing Tyson to unleash the ship's potent rapid-fire torpedo launchers on the unsuspecting Cardassians.
The devastating maneuver caused two Galor-class ships to vanish in a display of fire and debris. The initial salvo was over, and the Terrans had seized the upper hand. Yet, there was no time for celebration, for the enemy retaliated with ferocity.
Six Klingon Bird of Preys decloaked, their form invisible until now, descended on the Terran fleet like raptors on a hunt. Their disruptors flared to life, cutting through the void as they attacked. The Cardassians, too, retaliated with a volley of fire, their weapons blazing. The battle had just begun. The advantage had been seized, but keeping it was another matter altogether.
Tyson set his fingers to the helm controls, and once again he spun the Enterprise in the modified attack pattern gamma. He was beginning to deem the attack, the 'Inquisitor's Roll. The starship twisted and turned through the debris of shattered Cardassian vessels, its speed and nimbleness belying its size. Even as the giant ship spun, Tyson fired a salvo of photon torpedoes, aiming with deadly precision at the two remaining Cardassian vessels. The void of space was briefly lit with twin novas as the Cardassian ships crumbled under the destructive force, their hulls shattering into shards of metal, scattering into the void.
Simultaneously, Jellico expertly manipulated the phaser controls. The targeted Klingon Bird of Prey was caught off guard by the assault, its shields flickering before their hull came under assault from the Enterprise's phasers. Tyson, in sync with his shipmates, quickly aligned the Enterprise with the damaged Bird of Prey, the flagship's Phaser Lance humming ominously as it powered up. The Phaser Lance unleashed its deadly energy, rending through the Klingon ship's hull. The Bird of Prey hung adrift in the vast emptiness, damaged beyond its capacity to retaliate.
But the fight was far from over. The remaining Klingon vessels, their plating adorned with the fierce insignia of their Empire, had the Enterprise in their sights. They descended on the flagship like vengeful specters, their pulse disruptors illuminating space with devastating arcs of energy. The disruptors hit, followed by four rounds of photon torpedoes. The Enterprise shuddered under the onslaught, but its shields held firm, the shimmering field of energy absorbing and dispersing the hits.
Data, ever the vigilant officer, reported, his voice calm amidst the chaos. "Shields at 80% Captain."
"Excellent work so far, Gentlemen," Picard responded, his gaze fixed on the viewscreen, the satisfaction evident in his voice. His crew was proving their mettle, just as he'd hoped. "Keep it up." The battle raged on, the Enterprise standing strong against the odds.
The situation on the viewscreen was a maelstrom of energy discharges, destructive light shows, and predatory starships. Yet through the confusion, the voice of Admiral Hanson, as cool and decisive as ever, sliced through.
"Terran Fleet, engage the Klingons. Divide and conquer!" he commanded from the helm of the Ambassador-Class Yamaguchi, his voice cutting through the din of battle.
With that, the Terran vessels broke formation, their engines leaving trails of luminescent exhaust against the black canvas of space. They peeled off, charging toward the beleaguered Klingon Birds of Prey. The Yamaguchi veered to starboard, angling towards one of the Klingon vessels, its nose trained on the enemy like a bird of prey of its own.
"Target locked," came the voice of the Yamaguchi's tactical officer. "The Klingon's shields are down, hull integrity at 61%."
With grim satisfaction, Hanson watched as phaser fire crashed against the shields of the Klingon Bird of Prey. The shield shimmered under the onslaught, faltering and finally collapsing under the relentless barrage. With a final salvo, the Yamaguchi scarred the hull of its target, leaving a trail of sparking and smoking wreckage.
Simultaneously, the other Terran vessels engaged the second Bird of Prey. It was a flurry of torpedo and phaser fire, the ships dancing around each other in a lethal ballet. The shields of the second Bird of Prey buckled and fell, its hull riddled with scars and burns from the concentrated attack.
The Terran fleet was holding its own, proving to be more than a match for the Klingon-Cardassian alliance. For now, the odds were in their favor.
Tyson's fingers danced across his console. He attempted to execute another attack pattern, but the rapid onslaught from the Klingons resulted in a fraction of a second delay. Still, his Pilot skill was impeccable. Even with the failed pattern, he managed to swing the massive Enterprise into a position that offered Data and Jellico a clean shot at two of the Birds of Prey.
The bridge fell into a momentary hush as Jellico's fingers moved with trained precision over his console, the phaser arrays under his control humming with ready power. On his order, beams of concentrated energy shot forth from the Enterprise, carving through the void of space and slamming into an undamaged Bird of Prey. At the same time, Data fired a calculated burst from the phaser lance, their combined assault leaving the Klingon vessel drifting and lifeless in space. Tyson locked on to a different target with photon torpedoes. There were still plenty of active targets, no need to fire on the disabled ones.
"A Bird of Prey has been disabled," Data's voice echoed throughout the bridge, clinical and detached as he studied the readings on his panel. "Photon Torpedoes, Hit. The second target's shields are down, hull integrity at 76 percent."
Yet even as the Enterprise dealt damage, they were far from unscathed. The crews of the remaining Klingon vessels had their honor stung and fury aroused. They continued to focus their fire on the flagship of the Terran fleet. Disruptor blasts and torpedoes pounded into the Enterprise's shields, the ship shuddered under the brutal assault.
Data, ever unflappable, surveyed the ship's status, his eyes flickering over the rapidly changing numbers. As the last Klingon volley faded away, his fingers paused over his console, a grim report on his lips. "Our shields are down to 62%," he announced, his cool tone belying the severity of the situation.
The Yamaguchi streaked across the battlefield. Its phasers, already glowing hot from the sustained fire, sent a deadly stream of energy straight into the crippled Bird of Prey it had been relentlessly hunting. The Klingon ship shuddered, its engines flickering and then dying out, leaving it helplessly adrift in the expanse of space.
The Ambassador class then swung around to focus on a new target: the damaged Bird of Prey that had already been weakened by the Enterprise's previous assault. Photon torpedoes streaked from the Yamaguchi's launchers, tracing a deadly path through the void before slamming into the vulnerable Klingon vessel. With a spectacular explosion, the Bird of Prey was no more.
Meanwhile, the Excelsior-class Melbourne aimed the Bird of Prey that had been caught in the crosshairs of the rest of the Terran fleet. Phasers and photon torpedoes combined in a deadly ballet, blasting through the remaining shields and shredding the hull, leaving yet another enemy vessel destroyed.
The battlefield was dwindling rapidly now, the last functional Bird of Prey suddenly finding itself the focus of the Terran onslaught. The two New Orleans and the Miranda converged on the final Klingon ship. Phaser fire and torpedo volleys lashed out, a coordinated attack that quickly saw the enemy's shields plummeting down to a mere 27%. Jellico aimed the Enterprise's phasers at the beleaguered Bird of Prey. The final volley was a work of precision, calculated to incapacitate without annihilating. As the phaser beams streaked out, the last of the Klingon ship's shields died, and its power systems quickly failed as it drifted into oblivion.
Heavy Weapons Skill Increased! (6)
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
As the dust of battle settled, the vast expanse of space was filled with silence, unbroken save for the quiet hum of the victorious Terran fleet. The remains of the once formidable Klingon-Cardassian alliance fleet lay scattered. Captain Picard stood resolute on the bridge of the Enterprise, surveying the sight of their victory. Their ruthless tactical brilliance, combined with the unprecedented combat prowess of the Enterprise, had ensured their victory despite being outnumbered. Two of the Cardassian Galor-class ships lay disabled, their compatriots destroyed. The Klingon Birds of Prey were similarly devastated, four left crippled and drifting, the other two utterly obliterated. It was a sight that brought grim satisfaction to the crews of the Terran fleet.
Such a decisive triumph had not been seen in the Empire in decades, and Picard knew the implications of their success. They had shown the galaxy the resurgence of the Terran Empire's strength, and there would be consequences.
One by one, the ships of the Terran fleet reached out with their tractor beams, pulling the defeated Alliance vessels deeper into the Sol system. Salvaging enemy vessels for resources had always been a standard practice for the Empire, but now, with the battlefield filled with so many defunct vessels, their objectives had shifted. Vessels beyond repair would be salvaged for materials. The rest would be carefully repaired and integrated into the Terran fleet. This victory had not only weakened their adversaries but also strengthened their forces.
The impact of the battle went beyond mere ships. Hundreds of slaves had been captured during the fray and would need to be processed. The echo of Picard's command cut through the quiet of the bridge, "Set course for Neptune Station."
As the premiere slave re-education center of the Empire, the facility was a grim reminder of the ruthlessness of the Terran rule.
A message from Admiral Hanson arrived amid their quiet celebration. His image filled the screen, the stern military official looking somewhat softened by the news of victory. "Captain Picard," he began, his voice echoing in the stillness of the bridge, "I've reported the fleet's victory to the Emperor. He wishes to meet you privately, to personally bestow upon you a fitting reward, and to officially recognize you as the Captain of the Enterprise. You're to be elevated to the rank of Commodore in a ceremony. A bit of pomp is just what we need to improve recruitment for the upcoming push out of the Sol system."
A low murmur of excitement ran through the bridge crew at the announcement. A private audience with the Emperor was a high honor, an acknowledgment of extraordinary service to the Empire. Picard merely nodded, hiding his emotions behind his stoic facade. But inside, he felt a profound sense of pride. This was not just a victory for him, but for his crew, for the Enterprise, and the Terran Empire.
He responded with a simple, "Understood, Admiral," then turned back to his crew, his voice resonating with authority, "Our work isn't over yet, let's get these ships back to Utopia Planitia and prepare for the next phase. We have a conquest to plan."
~~Star Trek: TMG~~
The victorious Captain Picard beamed down to Earth to meet with the elusive Emperor Quinn. Tyson was left on the Enterprise with a sense of bemusement. He hadn't even known who the Emperor was until Data, who had the Terran Empire's entire database at his fingertips, had informed him. The name rang a faint bell within his metaknowledge, yet Tyson couldn't recall what role this individual might have played in the prime Star Trek universe.
While Picard was away, Tyson found himself wandering the extensive corridors of the Enterprise. This Enterprise had an arena, which he became acquainted with during his fight with Riker. It was a strange and brutal addition that had no counterpart in the prime universe. Curious to see what else was different in this version of the ship, Tyson went exploring. He didn't find any other starkly unexpected facilities. But he did wander across the doors of what appeared to be a holodeck. As he approached, an unfamiliar prompt materialized in his Interface.
Instant Dungeon Discovered!
Holodeck A7.
Used to create Instant Dungeons
Stronger Instant Dungeons may be created at higher levels.
Current Available ID List:
1. Zombie.
A shiver of intrigue ran down his spine. Dungeons were dangerous zones filled with enemies and traps, but also potential rewards and upgrades. Could the holodeck function in a similar way?
With an air of anticipation, Tyson reached out and activated the door controls, wondering what challenges and rewards this mysterious 'dungeon' might hold for him.
Error.
0xP4R4LL3X: Parallel Universe Overlap Detected!
Compensating….
Instant Dungeon Zombie Evolved!
Instant Dungeon: Ghouls Unlocked!
Error.
0x-3X1S74NC3: Creature Absence Detected!
Compensating….
Error.
0xMUL71V3R: Multiverse Intersection Detected!
Logic Error Resolved!
Instant Dungeon Ghouls Evolved!
Instant Dungeon: Rakghouls Unlocked!
Now Entering… Rakghoul ID.
AN: Thanks for reading! This is the end of Mirror Tyson's backstory… But probably not the end of his story. I planned 50k words for this story and went a little over. Closing the gap between this origin and the appearance in 5.7 would take maybe another 40k words. Leave a review if you'd like me to close the gap as interludes in the main story. I'd like to, but i'm working on another writing project and there doesn't seem to be much interest in mirror-Tyson.
I hid a few Easter Eggs, lmk if you found them in the reviews, Nerds!
A little crossreference for those who follow the main Tyson story: This episode ends a day after prime-Tyson enters the holodeck for the first time. That is the main cause of the error, the ID is occupied.
This Story served several purposes.
1. Telling Mirror Tyson's story leading up to his appearance in the main Tyson story, Star Trek: The Next Gamer (if you missed it). There is still quite a gap, but there are enough breadcrumbs to fill in most of it yourself… 2. Test ship stats and ship-to-ship combat rules. I haven't done this in the main story and wanted to try writing it some before it happened. Feedback would be appreciated.
3. To try a different mechanic for gaining power. I enjoyed playing with Corruption. It's similar to Power Eater but different enough that I could enjoy writing it and creating scenarios around it.
4. Write something darker. Not sure if I succeeded here. It's undoubtedly darker than the main story, but when I wrote the mirror Tyson scene, he had a slave and red lightsabers and was this badass evil version of Tyson. Then I mentally walked backward and tried to figure out how he got to that point. I did some last-minute editing to the companions in that scene to make it fit the spontaneous idea, then started writing this. I intended this story to be quite dark, and some parts were. D/S, slavery, etc. But I think that the shift hinted at by Tyson's presence was a bit too hopeful. As I wrote scenes, I thought to myself, "No, that's too dark, let's do this instead." If I ever muster up the desire to return to Mirror Tyson as its own story, I left a few threads to pick up that could allow me to go full dark.
Thanks again for reading!
Oh, moved the story out of the Star Wars crossover section, because I never got that far. And Marked it as complete.
Tyson
Title: Inquisitor (Commander)
Race: Human Level: 2 (645/7000)
Energy Credits: 1,060,868.
Hit Points: 10 x 12 (Con) = 120/120
Corruption Pool: Cumulative Attribute Score x5 = 365/365
Armor: Cardassian Armor (Common) - +2 Ref
Reflex: 10+ 2(Level) +2(Dex Mod) +2(Precog) +2(Armor) = 18
Fortitude: 10+ 2(Level) + 1(Con Mod) = 13
Will: 10+ 2(Level) + 0(Wis mod) +2(Precog) = 14
Strength: 11
Dexterity: 15
Constitution: 12
Intelligence: 14
Wisdom: 10
Charisma: 14
Luck: 1
Status Effects: (none)
Languages: Basic, Cardassian
Traits: Racial ('Vulcan Strength: 11 CP')
Powers (Absorb Corruption, Corrupted Seed, Corrupted Takedown, Corruptive Inquisitor)
Ship ('Vehicular Combat: 12 CP', 'Vehicular Evasion: 960 CP' )
Weapon ('Autofire: 84 CP', 'Rapid Shot: 84 CP')
Skills:
Athletics: Lvl 4 (Con, Str, Dex)
Computers: Lvl 14 (Int - Maxed)
Energy Weapons: Lvl 10 (Dex)
Engineering: Lvl 14 (Int - Maxed)
Heavy Weapons: Lvl 6 (Str)
Martial Arts: Lvl 11 (Dex)
Medicine: Lvl 1 (Int)
Meditation: Lvl 3 (Wis)
Melee Weapons: Lvl 1 (Str)
Perform: Lvl 11 (Cha)
Piloting: Lvl 15 (Dex - Maxed)
Social: Lvl 11 (Cha)
Perks:
'Out of Nowhere'
'Corruption'
Drawbacks:
'Q and U'
'Dark Mirror'
Attacks:
Phaser: +10 (15 Damage)
Disruptor Rifle: +10 (3d8+10)
Punch: +10 (3d4+10 Damage)
Attack Modifiers:
Rapid Shot: -2 Attack, +1 damage die
Autofire: -5 Attack, 2x2 area damage, Half damage on a miss
Meditation: (0.1 * 3(Skill level) * 365(Pool)) = 110 CP/hour
Companions:
Selar (Lvl 2)
{Corruption - 235/240}
Defense: R: 12, F: 13, W: 12 Hit Points: (10*Con) = 120 Melee: Punch +3 (3d4+3)
Attributes: Strength 11, Dexterity 10, Constitution 12, Intelligence 10, Wisdom 10, Charisma 10 Skills: Medicine +9 Vulcan Strength: Vulcans are Triple the Strength of Humans and do 3x the normal damage dice worth of damage with unarmed attacks.
Tasha Yar (Lvl 6)
{Corruption - 118/522}
Defense: R: 18, F: 22, W: 18 Hit Points: 86 Melee: Punch +5 (1d4+7)
Melee: Knife +6 (1d6+7)
Range: Phaser +5 (3d6+3)
Attributes: Strength 16, Dexterity 8, Constitution 18, Intelligence 10, Wisdom 8, Charisma 14 Skills: Athletics +7 Traits: Weapon Proficiency (Phasers), Weapon Focus (Simple Weapons), Weapon Proficiency (Simple Weapons)
Negative Status Effect: Corrupted Seed (x5)
