Disclaimer: I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek.
The Adventures of Augment Gothic
Chapter 28
Airlock. Deep Space Nine.
For several valid and reasonable security reasons, Section 31 hadn't been able to drop me off in or near the Bajoran system, but I had a cloaked ship of my own, with a top speed of warp 8, so I'd found my way home again without incident once my ship had flown out of their hangar bay. The long journey at warp had actually been rather quiet and restful and had given me ample time to work on several projects that had languished while I'd been busy performing my official duties.
Prophets! When had this Cardassian bicycle wheel become my home?!
It was an odd thought considering I pretty much had my own palace fortress, on my own semi-tropical private island on Bajor for Prophets' sake! I really needed to take some time off to just relax there and enjoy my new home.
I didn't even have to do it alone. My Bajoran girls were all in the Militia so it wouldn't be hard to claim that I needed them for special team building exercises and issue them orders to that effect. We could 'team build' to our heart's content on my beach, or under any one of the dozens of waterfalls, or in any of the natural hot springs and grottos that dotted my island, or in my palatial master bedroom…sans clothing. We could even do a few tactical training scenarios on my private holodeck if they felt guilty about not traditionally working.
There was a minor possibility that I might have overdone it with the size of the bed in my palace's master bedroom. The sheets on the thing could double as a relatively small ship's sail for Prophets' sake! Perhaps a bit too presumptuous/ambitious on just how many sexy nubile bodies might share it at any one time, but I knew from experience that good orgies required a lot of space to move around and get the job done properly. Risa had taught me well on that front.
When I had candidly explained to Data just why I needed such a large master bedroom and bed, his silent pause and what looked like a dry, flat stare in response, made me wonder for a moment if he had miraculously and spontaneously achieved emotion, or had somehow gained an intimate understanding of humanoid sexual dynamics.
Anyways, I was used to traveling light and enduring far more serious hardships during the Occupation, so this mission had been no big deal, but it was very nice to be returned to the many familiar comforts and confines of home. Which said something strange about my life, and probably not anything good, if I considered what was basically a slave-built space station/ore processor to be a place of comfort.
Major Ro Laren, who was my official 2IC and adjutant, and who dealt with most of the minor day-to-day issues of the off-world militia, met me at the airlock. She wore a modified version of the standard duty uniform, though hers was black and hugged her body to perfection. She'd gone to the trouble of having it custom tailored, and I heartily approved. She both deserved it and could afford it after having received her minor cut from the Collector ship boarding payday I'd had. She, Kira, and Neela were quite wealthy women in their own right, as a result.
"Welcome home, General. Did you have another grand adventure without us?" she asked coyly with a smile on her face, as we headed to my quarters.
Well, yes I did, and it was quite an eye opener, but I couldn't exactly tell her that or anything about it really. Well, I could, but then I'd probably have to kill her, because Section 31 would no doubt arrange a gruesome 'accident' for her if I didn't do it myself and they'd probably give me a stern talking to, assuming I was still valuable enough for them not to kill me too.
"Nothing quite so glamorous," I told her, laughing a little, before giving her the cover story that Section 31 had provided me with. "I was trying to find someone to manufacture my omni-tool design in large numbers and assist in its wide distribution. An independent world with a large, well established industrial base and relationships with all the major powers in the quadrant would be ideal for my needs. Getting them to agree to produce my omni-tools, though, in such large amounts, invented by a relatively unknown human who doesn't really claim to be a Federation citizen, and not, for instance, an old and established company, is a different matter. It's proving to be surprisingly difficult."
Hopefully I had inserted just the right amount of complaint in my tone to make my failure sound believable. Section 31 was very good at what they did and was extremely thorough in designing and reinforcing the cover stories which covered their movements and actions throughout the galaxy. You'd have to be good at it if your organization's existence still remained a secret for more than 200 plus years later, even from the other big intelligence outfits in the galaxy. If she or anyone else, the equally likely culprits being Starfleet Intelligence, Odo, and/or Commander Sisko, tried to verify what I'd just told her, they'd find that a mid-level government bureaucrat and several manufacturing/distribution executives of a nearby independent world, one with a suitable industrial base, would swear to their many strange gods that we had had several long, but sadly unproductive meetings in the end.
In addition to creating the entire suite of official customs records on that planet to show that I had arrived and departed per my official itinerary, I was assured that Section 31 had even arranged for false sensor telemetry showing my ship's travel to the planet had been input into all the corresponding sensor networks that could have likely noticed my travel and even several that were unlikely. They had even produced purchase receipts for the food that I had purchased on the planet and the bill for my hotel stay! Section 31 was very, very good at what they did and had a lot of experience doing it.
"A shame, I really like these omni-tools!" Ro commented with pleasure, looking at her own strapped to her left forearm fondly, even oddly stroking it like a much beloved pet, which made me laugh a little. "It's incredibly useful to have a powerful computer with database access, communicator, and sensor suite with me at all times in my role as your Adjutant. It's like I'm never away from everything I need to do my job. I know Neela absolutely loves hers and uses it all the time in her daily routine and duties. Several of her Federation colleagues say that it's so much better than a tricorder and they have no idea how they coped without it before!"
Well, that was nice to hear on multiple levels. Given canon DS9 events, I needed to keep close tabs on Neela, so I had put in a subtle backdoor to her omni-tool to ensure that I could both track it and access everything its upgraded sensor suite saw and heard. Hopefully, before the end of this season, I'd be glad of that. I trusted Neela, you couldn't fight and shed blood together for long in the Resistance without trusting your comrades, but I wasn't taking any chances with the Prophets potentially nudging things into place in the background, which I had a strong feeling they were doing. If they needed a zealot, they'd have to find someone else to do their dirty work.
'Neela was mine!' I growled in the privacy of my thoughts, a space that was apparently safe from even God-like beings.
Each omni-tool had a single person connected to it, a unique identity or number, in cell phone terms, and they worked like ones too in that you could send text messages, funny pictures, videos, as well as make local network or galactic network subspace calls if you hooked it up to a ship or station's larger communications systems and infrastructure. The idea for that and the modifications necessary for it to work that way had actually come from Jadzia. This allowed for both public and more secure channels of portable communications and database access that could be worn and carried with you at all times.
Since they were hooking into the already existing local and planetary comms system infrastructure, I didn't need to create cell towers or switch facilities or the future equivalent of such. Before people had to go to their quarters or homes to make subspace calls, now a holographic projection of the caller would show up and the built-in camera and microphone would allow the wearer to be seen and heard if they wanted, wherever they were.
The holo-projection was being generated by the omni-tool itself and you could manipulate its projected location, according to preference. It wasn't even all that hard to keep the image stationary even with the omni-tool itself moving as it would dynamically adjust and stabilize the holo-image in real-time. Of course, they could also use it to search this dimension's version of the internet too, like the Galactic Information Network, assuming they were in range of an access point. These new features and capabilities were exactly what would make the omni-tool the new must-have piece of wearable tech in the quadrant, the closest analog being the Starfleet communicator, which I had always felt was lackluster and extremely limited given the Star Trek tech base.
Even separated from more traditional communications infrastructure, the omni-tool had a much more powerful subspace transmitter/receiver and power source than a standard communicator, so I suspected it would be much appreciated by Starfleet personnel after they had been stranded on a planet or been in yet another ubiquitous shuttle crash. Performance field tests had shown that its signal could cut through interference better than a standard communicator and had a similarly better range.
"Not to worry, you, Neela, and all my girls will always have the latest upgraded model that I can produce from my own industrial replicator. As for the sheer numbers I need to build to sell to the far reaches of the quadrant, Quark is working on that as we speak, acting as my business agent with the Ferengi," I assured my Bajoran babe. "He'll find me someone within the Ferengi Alliance to produce my omni-tools en masse. The Ferengi have a ridiculous capacity for manufacturing, sales, and distribution and would be the perfect partner for me, especially since they sell to everyone. My technically not being a Federation citizen could actually help in that regard."
I had my own industrial replicator on the island, the best that money could buy, helped along by Section 31, but even if that had been enough to produce the number of desired omni-tools, which it wasn't, as even my conservative projections required millions of units for my first production run, I still needed a sales force to sell them and a veritable fleet of ships to transport and distribute the completed product to the furthest reaches of the quadrant. Hence why I needed an advanced industrial world as they had huge industrial capacity and fleets of cargo ships, or at the very least had agreements in place already with a lot of cargo ship companies and owners.
During the design phase I had toyed with the idea of making the omni-tool completely non-replicable to prevent or make difficult counterfeiting, but given the high level of technical knowledge in the quadrant, and the numbers I'd need, that seemed impracticable and difficult to sustain. In the end, I decided to strike a middle path, to make the design replicable, but require the use of very high-end energy intensive materials, and strict tolerances to be functionable, tolerances that only very sophisticated and specialized industrial replicators could produce.
In an age of advanced sensors, fabrication, and replication, most inventors had to get by with a per replication licensing fee, which was a double-edged sword. I had taken it one step further and used ideas from my time to further ensure I got my cut. The software I had personally written to operate the device also required an activation key that they could only receive from me, assuming that they paid the appropriate fee. In other words, even if someone illegally replicated my omni-tool, meaning they didn't pay me the appropriate licensing fee, the software wouldn't work to actually operate the device without the activation key, and I had gotten seriously paranoid in how to protect that from being circumvented.
By doing it the way I had, a potential buyer on a modern and wealthy planet would have to go to official planetary industrial replicators which would certainly pay me the correct licensing fee in their native currencies, as very few private parties would have an industrial replicator capable of producing my omni-tool. Of course, not every planet or far-flung colony had this capability, which is where the Ferengi manufacturing and distribution network came in.
Quark had actually already come through in a big way and had managed to secure a meeting with the Grand Nagus himself to discuss and work out the details of a potential deal. Of course, I couldn't tell Ro that since she'd wonder why I was still looking for an independent planet to make them. But even if she did find out I could simply say that I'd been looking for alternatives and trying to get a sense for what a fair deal was to better negotiate with the Ferengi. That was perfectly reasonable.
"Are you sure that's wise?" Ro asked dubiously. "I don't trust those trolls even a little."
The Bajorans, these days, didn't tend to care for aliens all that much with the Federation races being tolerated better given the visible aid the Federation was providing to Bajor. Not that I really blamed them given their recent history, after all, no other race had come to their aid during the Occupation, even former long-term friends and trading partners. Many Bajorans I'd met had loathed Quark's race even more than was strictly fair. Perhaps it was because Bajorans were a spiritual people, and Quark's lot were very material? Sure, the Federation were godless heathens, which wasn't so odd when you remembered how many so-called gods one version or the other of the Enterprise crew had met and somehow killed, but we at least were nice to the Bajorans and were assisting in their rebuilding. I, though an alien, was a hero of the Occupation and had helped drive the Cardassians from Bajor, so I got a pass.
The Ferengi, on the other hand, had been one of many races which had done a good amount of business supplying the Cardassians' needs during the Occupation, oftentimes paid with refined ore and other valuable materials stolen from Bajor itself, refined materials paid for in the blood and lives of Bajoran slave labor. Quark, himself, had owned his bar even during the Occupation and had catered to the entertainment needs of the Cardassians on the station. He had even often 'hired' Bajoran slave labor to work in his bar, meaning he paid the Cardassians. Working in Quark's bar during those days was a much better, easier, and far more desirable option than the far more dangerous ore processing, but still, it was slave labor. So, perhaps they did have some good reasons.
"They're a race with a huge industrial base to supply and distribute to the entire quadrant. Very few independent governments can claim that," I told her. "And I know the omni-tools are going to be huge."
"I think so too, Gothic. When you set your mind to a task you rarely fail at achieving it," Ro replied back with a smile. "Let me ask you this, during the Occupation you often talked about preparing for success as much as failure. Have you prepared for success? What's the future of this device if its largely adopted?"
"It's always nice to have your words of wisdom parroted back at you by your subordinates and girlfriends. It makes me feel very smart and wise!" I snarked back at her, before getting serious. "I actually do have many ideas for both incremental upgrades and entirely new models stretching decades into the future. Once power cell technology improves a bit, I even have plans to add a micro-replicator to the omni-tools, similar to the ones that I have in my Mass Effect holo-program."
If the omni-tools were as successful as I predicted, it'd be vital to constantly innovate, though I'd likely get to the point where I'd start up a company on Bajor and create an R&D department to come up with new ideas. As I owned the patent on the technology and had thoroughly locked down the operating system using programming and encryption methods from multiple races, companies would need to pay me a substantial licensing fee or profit-sharing percentage to build add-on modules or software that worked with the main device.
As I had created the programming from the ground up and was able to distribute updates and patches to all omni-tools throughout the galaxy, I had built in a very well-hidden backdoor that would allow me access to the devices. I could even set up periodic data uploads from the device itself. Little did they know, but the Cardassians' insidious and innovative programming tricks in all their tricorder equivalents had inspired me to make my own better version.
"Don't worry about the Ferengi, Laren, I know how to best utilize them and keep them from fucking me over. In time, once I have more capital available, I might start slowly phasing them out by buying and putting in place an advanced industrial replicator on planets or in sectors that don't already have them, in order to reach those markets without the Ferengi as middlemen," I assured my worried adjutant. "Speaking of fucking, I need to take shower. Care to join me?" I asked with a little wink and a grin.
I gave her ass a quick slap to encourage her to make the right choice to which she only giggled, running playfully ahead of me into the sonic shower, shedding clothes as she went.
XXXXX
Gothic's Quarters. Deep Space Nine.
I had one arm outstretched, my palm pressed against the wall of the sonic shower, as I leaned forward. If this was a Hollywood movie the water would be cascading sensually down my naked, muscled back, running down my legs corded with hard muscle, my bare, sculpted ass visible to the camera. Since this was the 24th century and I was an Augment now, the sexy body was there, but there was no water at all, only a soothing hum and vibration on my skin as I literally vibrated to cleanliness. There was something lacking about the whole thing, but at the same time it was rather nice. I still wasn't sure which kind of shower I preferred. Each had their own distinct advantages.
Also just like a Hollywood movie, which I certainly didn't mind, a beautiful naked woman slid into my personal space and pressed herself and her large pillowy tits against my back as she softly caressed my body from behind.
"Shhh… You don't need to talk. Just relax and let me handle everything. You've been working too hard and deserve a break," Ro sensually whispered, breathily, between soft, wet, nibbling kisses on my back and shoulders as we were bombarded by pleasant sonic vibrations and she pressed her tits against my back. "I'll make you feel so good. Just let me lead this once."
I looked back over my shoulder and saw her smiling at me with that look of love and devotion in her eyes, and submission too, which was sometimes both incredibly arousing and a great deal of responsibility, and decided to let her have her fun. She, apparently, thought I was working too hard and needed some… stress relief. Well, that sounded lovely and I was happy to oblige.
Part of me didn't mind what was going on, thinking that having the sexy as hell alien woman who acted like a fuck toy for me at times was loads of fun. But I was still human enough, with enough of my old vanilla sensibilities intact, to worry about how much control I had over other people, especially the girls in my life. Then I stopped caring because there was a beautiful naked and horny woman massaging me with her body.
We all enjoyed the way our relationship worked and it was consensual in every aspect, even in my tendency to dominate them to their great delight. The fact that I was the leader of their cell in the Resistance and now their official superior in the Militia was actually a turn on for them, I'd learned. The transition in roles had been relatively seamless. Thankfully the Militia remained pretty easy going about relationships between officers, even ones under your command. It was a holdover from the days of the Resistance cells where everyone was fucking everybody else pretty much on the daily. It remained to be seen if that would continue once Bajor officially joined the Federation.
I felt Ro's arms slipping around me to my front, her breasts and hard nipples moving delightfully, sinfully across my bare smooth skin as they kept in contact with my body. She was standing in front of me now, arms squeezing gently around my neck as she pressed herself into my chest, a sultry smirk on her face as she looked up at me.
She just continued to look deeply into my eyes for a while before leaning forward, tilting her face up at me and lightly pressing her lips onto mine as she pulled me down to her. The kiss was gentle at first, barely more than a peck on the lips before it started to deepen and I automatically looped my arms around the Bajoran woman's waist, pulling her tightly to me as she forcefully grabbed the back of my head and began threading her fingers through my short, dark, thick hair. She continued to kiss me deeply like that, our tongues intertwining.
Pressing herself flush into me and rubbing up and down, I felt her hard nipples scraping against me while her left hand let go of my head. I wasn't really paying much attention to it as it slipped between our bodies, but I was still surprised when her delicate fingers wrapped themselves gently around my already hard-as-a-diamond cock.
I shuddered at the light touch, my eyes glazing over for a moment. I was finding this all very pleasurable, the variable sonic waves of the shower which continued to vibrate our skin, a nice combination. After that I didn't pay much attention to what her hand did as I had something I wanted to do oh so badly.
My hands reached down now to grip her ass tightly, my fingers digging in deep, as I kneaded the flesh roughly, pulling the cheeks apart and pushing them together, my fingers almost disappearing into the muscular soft tissue. Her continuing moans of pleasure told me that she was greatly enjoying what I was doing. I could tell that she'd put on some weight recently and hadn't been exercising as often, not surprising given her desk job, but having some meat on her bones only made her that much sexier. She'd been a little too skinny before, as so many Bajorans were after the Occupation, even in the Resistance. The malnutrition many had suffered, especially in their childhoods, had left their mark.
I let one of my hands move to her front to explore her wet folds and her soaking wet cunt, which she kept completely shaved for my approval, as all my girls did. Her sharp inhalation of breath was music to my ears as I put one, then two fingers inside her. I found that she was nice and wet, judging by how easily my fingers slipped inside her moist heat.
A moment passed as both of us stayed like that, my back now against the wall, her hand pumping my cock and my fingers moving in and out, fucking her cunt. However, it didn't last, as she stepped back just a little and was soon leaving trailing kisses from my mouth down to my neck, then she started planting kisses all the way around my collarbone, then down my chest, before stopping at my waist, all the while the sonic vibrations caused tingles along our skin.
"Now that you've had time to enjoy the appetizer, sir, I think you might want to move on to the main course," Ro whispered sultrily.
Moment later she fell to her knees on the floor in front of me, her hot breath tickling my balls. I felt her light fingers grip my shaft and pump it up and down, while massaging my balls ever so gently. Her hot breath on my dick was so sexy and felt wonderful as she rubbed my cock lovingly all over her face, practically worshiping it. Talk about sexy!
I almost jumped through the fucking ceiling when she suddenly pulled back, so that she could smother my cock between her large perky tits. She had much bigger ones than the actress who played her on TV, though they weren't huge or anything. Her face was exactly the same as that actress, though.
"Do you like this, my general?" Ro asked seductively, as she rubbed her tits up and down my shaft, her own hands pressing her tits together to keep my cock in place. "Do you like having your huge cock massaged lovingly by my big Bajoran tits?"
The tip of my cock became visible through her tits moments before it was quickly taken inside her mouth, her tongue circling the head or alternately lashing it like a snake. It was pure bliss, no other words described it, as I groaned and grunted with each stroke up and down through her fleshy tits as this continued on for a good few minutes.
I eventually lost the tenuous grip on my self-control and both my hands wrapped around her head, my fingers threading through her hair. She only smirked evilly up at me, pleased that she'd made me lose my control and uncaring at what I was about to do to her, maybe even anticipating it.
"Naughty girls get punished," I growled, moments before I started fucking her face with quick hard thrusts into her wet mouth.
"Gaghk, gaghk, gaghk," were the noises she made, but she continued to stare into my eyes happily, even as tears ran down her cheeks.
A few minutes went by like this. Obviously sensing that I was close, she took hold of my own cheeks and increased the pace, starting to fuck her own face on my cock even harder than I had been, ensuring that things rapidly came to an end on her own terms. I groaned loudly in pleasure as I finally let her go and painted her face and tits with my very messy cum. Luckily or unluckily for her, we were already in the shower. She tried to scoop up as much as possible to bring into her mouth before the shower vibrated it all away.
"I'd love to continue this, but you have to get back to work," she told me cheekily, after she got back to her feet and gave me a loving kiss. She even started giggling at my confused and heartbroken face, her eyes quickly darting to my still hard cock. "You have a meeting with Sisko."
At my confused look, she elaborated. Had she accepted a meeting while I was gone? I didn't remember having a meeting with him on my schedule.
"He requested that you come by immediately upon your return to the station. Apparently, he's a little upset that you left the station without telling him," she explained with a laugh after seeing the irritated look on my face. The man had effectively cock blocked me; that just wasn't right. Not cool dude. It just wasn't done. The sheer size of the Commander's balls was astounding. "You've been so helpful in resolving new and unusual situations, and station emergencies, I think he just wanted your help with those strange aliens or just wanted you there as an official representative of Bajor."
"What 'strange aliens?'" I asked, visibly confused. Had there been a First Contact situation during the time he'd been away from the station? "What was the name of this race of 'strange aliens?'"
"They were called the 'Wadi,'" she answered. "It was a very unusual first contact, but overall went rather well. No one died at least."
Fuck!
While I was busy killing thousands of Cardassian soldiers and preventing the deployment of a bio-weapon on Bajor, I'd missed the infamous, the notorious Wadi episode, arguably the worst episode in all of DS9! It might have been the shittiest of all episodes, but those game loving aliens from the Gamma Quadrant had some incredibly unique technology, tech that bordered on near fucking magical. That was the best way to describe it as it made so little sense! Hardcore fans of the shows for years could only wildly speculate on how it actually worked or jived with the Star Trek tech paradigm. The most likely of all the wild theories was that it utilized transporter technological principles set in a dynamic neural matrix, potentially even some spatial manipulation of some kind.
And I'd missed the chance to both experience it and shamelessly take sensor readings on how it all actually worked!
I'd so wanted a chance to at least attempt to figure out how it worked or potentially make a wager with them to get ahold of the technology. A game-loving species might even take me up on that wager. With my future knowledge and my enhanced mind, I had a very good chance of winning those games! This was the problem of having no true way to determine when one episode would actually begin in this timeline. Add in my own actions and changes butterflying the universe, thereby making an episode appear earlier or later, and it was really a crapshoot when things were going to happen.
Oh well, maybe I'd go and find some new boobs to look at. I had been working hard, after all. I deserved a treat, but that would have to wait until the deal with the Nagus was done.
XXXXX
Sisko's Office. Deep Space Nine.
The commander of the station took a firm grip on his iconic baseball, rotating it in his hands, the feel of the leather on his hands comforting, as he spied the tall and well-built General Gothic greeting people in Ops. Like he had planned, he kept his seat and waited for the man to climb the steps up to his office. The man was just moving around Ops greeting people, not at all putting on a show of things as best he could tell, but somehow it felt eerily reminiscent of those nature videos he'd seen as a child, the ones of lions stalking prey on the African savannah. Yet no one in Ops acted concerned.
The man had seemingly greeted every single person, individually, Starfleet and Bajoran Militia, by name. Every one of them, especially the Militia members, though, stood up a little straighter, their smiles a little brighter, obviously excited and happy to be talking with the man. Were they in awe of his Occupation accomplishments and successes? His philanthropy? How well he was carrying out his current duties? Was this level of charisma specific to General Gothic or had all Khan-era Augments had this extreme charisma and ability to inspire confidence?
He had to work hard to keep his expression from changing as he fought down that instinctive fear that he often felt when seeing the man for the first time after a long absence. He was secure enough in himself to admit that it was fear, the same kind of fear, he reasoned, that his species had probably instinctively had for any kind of physically superior predator species that had evolved on Earth. This wasn't a lion or a tiger or a bear, though, this was another sentient human which made him all the more dangerous.
Jennifer, much to his chagrin and acute annoyance, had had a very different reaction to the Augment and it certainly wasn't one of fear. She had not even met the man formally yet, only having seen him from far across the room when they'd eaten in Quark's together one night. He had been unintentionally watching her and had caught her reaction when she spotted the man. The General had waved and smiled a polite smile at the two of them, before turning his attention back to his dinner companions of Major Kira, Major Ro, and an engineer he'd never met named Neela. According to station gossip, they were all his lovers and formerly part of his Resistance Cell. And wasn't that worrying. Two of the highest ranking Bajoran Militia officers on the station, besides the General himself, were his lovers and Kira was his second in command. He really didn't know how to feel about that.
It was obvious to all that that the smile the General sent them hadn't been one meant to entice or arouse, but he had been married to his wife for far too long to not recognize the familiar signs of her arousal and interest. She probably hadn't even consciously realized just how many consecutive seconds she'd intently stared at the General, her nostrils flaring, a twinkle of interest and come hither in her eyes, the far more coy than polite smile she sent the General's way, the way she'd unconsciously pressed her medium-sized breasts forward to draw attention to her assets, the way she'd looked embarrassed and demure while playing with her hair…or how her thighs had rubbed together under the table.
Like many human couples in the Federation, they had long agreed to be open to a brief sexual tryst with another if it suited them, as long as they were open about it with each other. Trips to Risa would certainly be less fun if they weren't open like that. So, her interest in another wasn't strictly the cause of his annoyance. He was, again, honest enough to admit that his annoyance with her interest may be partly due to feelings of inadequacy when comparing himself to this unnaturally perfected man. That wasn't the only reason though! This man was acutely and extremely dangerous, couldn't she see that? Sure, the man was likely a perfect and overidealized depiction of the human form that artists would have been required to create, but he was dangerous and had five times normal human strength! Apart from his enhanced physical abilities, the man even wore weapons everywhere he went! Did he truly expect combat on the station itself? The Occupation was over!
On duty, off duty, didn't matter. As far as he could tell, the General never went anywhere unarmed and was always spotted with at least that large, extremely deadly looking energy pistol on his right hip attached to a quick draw magnetic holster. He remembered the description the General had given to Major Kira and Lt. Dax. That very dangerous weapon could fire antiprotons! He couldn't imagine what that kind of weapon would do to the humanoid body. It should be illegal, but as he'd found out it actually wasn't, under both Bajoran and Federation law, the latter only likely because the Federation thought it currently impossible in a man portable weapon system.
On his left hip was a sinister looking sheathed combat knife with a button actuator that he did not understand the function of. And on his left arm he wore that new omni-tool device that he had designed and which was now being worn by more and more people on the station, both Bajoran and Federation personnel, including most of his senior staff, who swore the things were the greatest new must have tool. At this point he was resisting the use of the device more out of spite than anything more substantive. Dax had already submitted a formal proposal to Starfleet Operations to field test the device with the overall recommendation that it be adopted fleet-wide if the tests yielded good results and reviews from active personnel. He had never used one, but if it did half as much as his staff claimed, it would likely save many lives.
At least he wasn't wearing that sword and rifle on his back this time. Or armor, like Klingon warriors were wont to do.
Sisko had quietly asked several former Resistance members he was friendly with about them, now Bajoran Militia, and no one had seen any of these weapons being used during the Occupation, so he had no idea what their true capabilities were, beyond the pistol, which he still hadn't ever seen fired. The rumor, confirmed by the man's own words, was that General Gothic had found the standard weapons available to him inadequate and unsuited to his physical capabilities and had designed all his weapons and equipment himself in the time since the Occupation had ended. That matched what the General himself had said, and it made sense given his enhanced physical capabilities.
Rumor said that his pistol, rifle, knife, sword, armor, and omni-tool were all his unique designs and inventions. For all Sisko knew, the rumors may well be true, though he had only heard about the pistol. The man was extremely intelligent and skilled, exceedingly wealthy somehow, owned his own ship and large private island on Bajor with quite an impressive home he'd heard, and was a prolific and successful holo-novel author and inventor. After Kira had bragged about Gothic's island, and its white sandy beaches, temperate weather and crystal-clear waters, both Jake and Jennifer were badgering him to take the General up on his standing offer to a vacation there. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, especially with Jennifer's visible interest in the man.
Odo had privately complained to him, more than a few times already, about the General always being armed on the Station yet not part of his security staff, but as a General in the Bajoran Militia and in nominal command of all off-world forces and installations, which included this station, the man had every right to be armed here and neither Odo or himself could reasonably gainsay that. Thankfully, Odo had been smart enough to not broach the subject with the General before talking with him.
The man had stopped for a moment to exchange a few words and a kind smile with someone Sisko couldn't see from this angle in Ops, most likely Major Kira or Dax, and that gave the officer a moment to gather his thoughts before this meeting.
Was Major Kira blushing?
He was concerned about this man and needed to make sure that the General understood who ultimately ran things around here; their brief conversation they'd once had just didn't seem adequate any longer. It wasn't even about power, Sisko didn't care much about that sort of thing, he was worried about his command over this station being undermined and how that could ultimately affect his career.
Sisko had never really worried or cared that much about augments, or had much of an opinion about them at all really. In fact, before coming to Deep Space Nine he wasn't sure if he'd ever even met an actual augment, human or otherwise. He might have interacted with one during his career without him ever becoming aware or even noticing, but he knew that he'd certainly never met an Augment that had the level of genetic enhancements the General had. You would have to go back to the era of Khan to find anything even close. It was the stuff of history books, rather than real life. Unlike those Khan-era augments, according to Dr. Crusher and Dr. Bashir's reports on the General, the man's genetic enhancements were seemingly perfect, with no unintended side effects as best as they could tell. They likened it to a miracle of science, the enhancements being far, far beyond the Federation's current capabilities and potentially an ideal version of the human form long into the future, if evolution was kind.
They had noted, however, that it was curious that no mental abilities like telepathy or telekinesis had developed or been detected. Most geneticists had assumed that that would come in time to humanity.
To discourage parents from genetically enhancing their children, augments were barred from joining Starfleet or holding public office, but there were plenty of prominent civilian roles that they weren't barred from. It was an uncomfortable topic for many in the Federation, really, as the children involved did not choose to be enhanced, yet the course of their entire lives would be restricted and changed because of the illegal choices and actions of their parents. No one could really think of a suitable alternative to this possibly Draconian measure, though.
Then he'd met General Gothic and now he was caught between wondering if it was right to keep augments out of Starfleet and public office or if the Federation was wasting incredibly valuable resources. He was even wondering if maybe the ban on genetic enhancement wasn't something that should be reexamined. Humanity had come a long way since those times. He just couldn't decide what was right.
The man was undeniably dangerous given his raw physical power and genius-level intellect. Stories of Gothic's bloody and gruesome victories over the Cardassians were common knowledge, including what some would arguably consider war crimes had they happened inside the Federation or been perpetrated by members of Starfleet. Comparisons to Khan's infamous extreme brutality were easy to make.
On the other hand, he wasn't a totalitarian, egomaniacal despot convinced of his own superiority and wishing to rule them all like Khan had. Despite holding a very high-level position in the Bajoran Militia with little oversight and having the ear of the First Minister, he'd never once heard or seen an instance in which the General had overstepped his authority or done anything to suggest that he was drunk on his power and desiring more, or shirking his duties in any way. In addition to being an extremely dangerous man, he was quite a skilled author and inventor as well and quite a ladies' man if the rumors were true. He was also a very generous philanthropist and had contributed significant money and material to Bajor's rebuilding efforts.
Sisko had read all the files and reports he could get on the Occupation, including highly classified reports held in the Provisional Government's archives that even an officer in his position probably shouldn't have been given. Being the Emissary of the Prophets did come with some perks that he was not overly reluctant to take advantage of.
While the Cardassians painted the General as a vicious war criminal and unrepentant monster, to the Bajorans who'd fought alongside him he was a legendary war hero, blessed by the Prophets to lead them to victory. He was also the same person the reports said had saved many of his comrades' lives during the Resistance, at great risk to himself, and whose actions and valor, strategies and tactics, were credited with some of the Resistance's most important victories, victories which led directly to the end of the Occupation.
He'd exchanged a few words on the matter with Major Kira who had been part of Gothic's Resistance cell in the waning days of the Occupation and who was with him in the Shakaar cell previous to that. She'd not gushed unearned praise, though it was clear that she deeply respected and admired him, instead she'd mentioned how brutal and effective he had been during the Occupation, but also how he'd always argued against and worked hard to avoid putting civilians in unnecessary danger.
He'd seemingly scared both sides with terrible acts of unbridled violence and brutality in his campaigns against the Cardassians, though everyone had admitted how effective it had been to finally put fear into the hearts of the Cardassians, rather than the other way around. His brutality had made the Cardassians fear them, and that fear had given the Resistance and others hope that the Cardassians could truly be defeated and driven off Bajor. Sisko knew from experience and history how a fearsome reputation could win battles before they even started. Kirk and Sulu and Pike had often spoken of the value of that.
Interestingly, while these reports and personal experiences painted a rather dark picture of the man, Sisko knew that that same violent and brutal man had also given a lot of his personal wealth to Bajoran charities tasked with helping the poor and disenfranchised during the rebuilding after the Occupation. And the Kai of Bajor trusted him. That was quite an endorsement considering the great amount of respect Sisko had for Kai Opaka.
Gothic was a very hard man to understand or put a clear definitive label on. A true mess of contradictions. His internal revelry was ended, however, as the door chime to his office rang out. His time had run out.
"Come in," Sisko called out.
"My adjutant said that you wished to see me upon my return," Gothic responded, coming to a stop in the middle of the office. They both stood, facing each other in silence for a few beats before Sisko began the conversation, not offering the man a seat.
"General, thank you for coming to meet with me. I'll come straight to the point. I wanted to talk to you about your leaving the station without letting me know," Sisko said. "I know I can't order you to file mission reports or flight plans, but I don't want high ranking members of the Militia leaving from or arriving at the station unexpectedly, without me at least knowing about it. It makes my job as station commander untenable to not know if the highest ranking Bajoran Militia officer on the station, is even here. We had a First Contact situation while you were gone."
An ultimately minor concern that didn't really require a face-to-face meeting, but the commander knew that it was important to reinforce the fact that he was in charge, even if it came off as petty.
The smile on Gothic's face smoothed out into a small frown, which sent a tremor of fear through him, though he had to mightily resist the sudden urge to step back from the predator in front of him.
"I had no idea my movements were of such concern to you, Commander. I left the station on a personal matter, after all, trying to find a manufacturing and distribution partner for my new omni-tool device," Gothic replied with an even tone and a tight smile, before his words turned very formal.
"If you had filed a flight plan, we'd have known that and when you were scheduled to return," Sisko responded.
"Let me be frank. As I acknowledged from day one, you are in command of this station. The security of Bajor requires that a Federation officer be visibly and effectively in command to prevent powers like the Cardassians from thinking that they can return to reclaim Bajor, and thus the wormhole, without serious consequence. In that manner, the Federation's presence here, in the form of your command of the station and the many Starfleet personnel permanently stationed here, is a powerful shield and deterrent to that happening," explained the General, his next words turning cold and precise in tone. "The hundreds of Bajoran Militia personnel stationed onboard this station will follow your orders without contravention by me, especially when it relates to station operations, though I am, at least on paper, their ultimate commanding officer. That being said, I and my adjutant, Major Ro Laren, are not a part of this station's chain of command or under your direct command. I do not answer to you. My movements are none of your concern, especially when I am acting in my official capacity as a General in the Bajoran Militia in command of all of Bajor's off-world forces and installations."
Sisko frowned at this. Was this the beginning of a power struggle between them? This was a Bajoran space station and the Federation was on this station only at the invitation of the Bajoran Provisional Government. If there was a genuine power struggle between them, Gothic was in the right according to Federation policy and Bajoran law. This train of thought was interrupted by Gothic's next statement.
"In the interests of maintaining and continuing our good working relationship, as a courtesy and out of respect to you, I will endeavor to follow the same arrival and departure regulations and protocols when I am acting in my individual and personal capacity by requesting departure clearance and filing an appropriate flight plan with station Operations. That should be enough of a notification of when I intend to leave and return to the station. When I am acting in my official capacity, if circumstances allow, I will do the same, however that is at my sole discretion," Gothic conceded to the man.
"I can live with that," Sisko responded slowly, happy that his fears of a power struggle were unfounded. "I apologize if I overreached with my request. This duty assignment has been strange for me and I am still figuring things out the dynamics of this command."
"We will have to work together for a long time to come, Commander, and I suspect there will be many trials ahead. Courtesy, flexibility, and mutual respect for each other will be the key to a good working relationship long into the future," Gothic offered in answer, his tone conciliatory, if he had to guess.
"I absolutely agree and fully see the value in maintaining a good working relationship with you General," Sisko responded. "Your very presence here prevented a disaster recently and saved the lives of nearly everyone aboard the station. Even beyond that, your thoughts on the Cardassians, the wormhole and the issues that it has brought Bajor, have given me a great deal to think about. I hope you don't mind if I continue to seek out your unique perspective and advice during various station events and future emergencies."
"I would be happy to offer my assistance in any way I can."
Approaching Sisko's desk, the General thrust out his hand to shake. Sisko took it gingerly, but gave it a hearty shake.
The General grinned, "May the Prophets bless our work and relationship, for the good of Bajor and her people."
"Yes," Sisko responded uncomfortably to the mention of the Prophets and their blessing of their relationship, which he suspected is exactly why the General had done it. He would likely never be comfortable with all this religious stuff, even if it had its advantages at times.
"If that is all, I will take my leave. Good day, Commander."
With that the Augment left Sisko's office, leaving the station commander with a lot to think about.
XXXXX
Island Fortress. Bajor.
It was a long trip to Bajor from the Ferengi Alliance, but the Grand Nagus and his entourage were on their way to the station to meet with me in person. The man was the leader of a multi-planetary alliance, yet he was coming personally to meet with me and negotiate this deal. That both pleased me, as it showed that he was taking this deal seriously and obviously saw the value in my invention, and worried me.
In the meantime, I had some time to kill before our meeting. Thankfully, we were in a bit of a slow period, those times between episodes if I had to guess, and my duties were light at the moment, leaving me with quite a bit of free time. Ro Laren handled a lot of the low- to medium-level stuff, stuff that I could reasonably delegate to her, with a skillful hand; the value of having a competent and trustworthy Adjutant was hard to overstate for someone in my position.
The remaining duties that couldn't be delegated in good faith were quickly handled given my own unique capabilities. Who knew the neural control helmet could help you do your paperwork so much faster and at such an extremely high-quality standard? Kira and Dax thought it hilarious, reporting that Sisko was both mystified and jealous at just how quickly and effectively I was handling all of my administrative duties compared to him. No one in Starfleet, much less him, could claim that I wasn't handling my duties with all due regard. And you better believe that they were watching closely and looking for any excuse to convince the Bajorans to get rid of me.
I decided to make use of this time by traveling back to Bajor and spending some time in my holo design and fabrication workshop on the island or my 'evil mad scientist lair' as my girls had jokingly and lovingly referred to it after I'd spent literal weeks in the place designing my armor and weapons. Several of my projects had been in limbo for a while with my duties on the station and the recent Section 31 mission taking up so much of my time and attention.
The first order of business was to immediately dump the memory core of my armor systems and omni-tool into my island's main computer database's most secure storage archives for safekeeping. Once that was complete, the Section 31 mission records needed to be scrubbed entirely from my personal armor and omni-tool memory and kept exclusively on the island. Prophets knew what kind of damage those records could do in the wrong hands. At best, I'd be imprisoned for life by the Federation, at worst, I'd be executed or assassinated by the Cardassians. And that was ignoring what Section 31 might do to me for such an egregious breach of operational security; somehow I didn't think they'd be all that forgiving no matter how well I'd done for them in the past, not when it was something like this. The risk that I might talk, to either the Federation or the Cardassians under torture, might see me suffer a convenient warp core breach or transporter accident.
Sitting down at my extremely comfortable holographic workstation, I pulled up all the files that had been created during my recent mission with Section 31. It was a lot. Both my omni-tool and armor's many sensors had been in continuous operation throughout the mission. In fact, unless I was straining my armor/omni-tool's storage capabilities, I preferred to have my sensors on a continuous scan mode. Call it OCD or whatever you'd like.
"Scarlett, initiate data exchange interface with my armor and omni-tool systems," I ordered. When silently prompted I entered my access codes and a bevy of other security scans were done on me before the connection was allowed, even in this setting. You could never be too careful, especially when they really were out to get you.
"Interface established," my computer reported in a sexy, smoky voice.
One of my recently completed projects had required that I interface with Earth's historical archives. My computer's female voice on the Temptress wasn't bad, per se, and was certainly better than Starfleet's standard computer voice, but the actress Scarlett Johansson from my time had just the sexiest fucking voice that you wouldn't mind hearing all day long. Do you know how often I spoke with my computer? Well, it was a lot, and having a sexy voice to listen to made it better.
Using several of her acting roles from this time and a few movies I had had in my old apartment for voice samples, Iron Man 2 and Lucy, it had been easy to compile a full voice matrix and use that for my computer's voice here on the island, in my office on the station, on my omni-tool and armor, and on The Flighty Temptress. I had even programmed the computer to respond to the name 'Scarlett' the same way 'computer' had worked before. Thankfully, it wasn't a very common name anymore.
My girls had given me quite the stink eye the first time they'd heard Scarlett's sexy smoky voice responding to one of their inquiries on my ship. I just laughed at their reaction; they didn't mind me sleeping with other women, but a sexy computer voice got me the stink eye? Life was strange sometimes. Her voice matrix was so good the computer's responses sounded downright conversational, instead of robotic and cold, like you often saw in the shows.
"Download and store all files that I have selected from these specific stardates," I ordered. "Code and encrypt as black-level data and archive accordingly. Once download is complete, begin black-level erasure from armor and omni-tool internal memory."
"Download in progress."
There was something quite satisfying about watching a progress bar tick across the screen, I thought, no matter what era you were in. In the 24th century, more so than even in the 21st, data security was a very important thing. My computer systems, in the event of a system intrusion that couldn't be stopped, had been designed to immediately scrub all black-level designated data as first priority. Black-level data was the kind of thing that could see me arrested, dissected, and/or killed if anyone learned of it, but it was also data that I couldn't just delete. My sensors had recorded the chemical makeup of the nerve gas used to kill the Cardassians during the assault, for example; who knew when that might come in handy, for instance.
Since Commander Data had helped me design my computer architecture, and I had used my programming knowledge from multiple species, including the Minosians, I was pretty sure that a successful intrusion was highly unlikely, but even if it should come to pass, that data was going to be completely gone and unrecoverable should they get that far. Nothing was impossible, however, so I had to prepare for worst case scenarios.
"Download is complete. Black-level erasure request in progress."
"Good job, Scarlett," I said unnecessarily. "Transfer all the design schematics for the Cardassian weapon systems and the Galor-class ship to the main database as well as the computer systems onboard The Flighty Temptress."
"Transfer complete."
My ship was currently sitting in the main hangar bay at the moment. While it might be safer to keep that data in the black-level archive on my island, I may need that information in some future engagement, especially once the Cardassians joined the Dominion. It was certainly riskier to keep it on my ship, but you always had to balance risk with reward. The reward here being that I might be able to survive an encounter with a Galor-class warship in the future, which was a reward that was hard to ignore. But before that data could be effectively utilized, however, I needed to task my island's powerful computer with running a full series of battle simulations set between The Flighty Temptress, which my computer already knew the full capabilities of, and a Galor-class ship, to determine the best attack strategy and strike points. It was still a very uneven matchup, in terms of firepower, but preparation could help even the odds somewhat and increase my chances of survival.
I leaned back in my chair, my mind running through various tactical scenarios and every battle in the shows in which the Cardassians took part.
"Scarlett, load the Galor-class design schematics. Conduct a series of battle simulations between my ship and the Galor-class using standard Cardassian battle tactics. Analyze and compile a report on optimum battle strategies, most effective evasive maneuvers, and weak points in that ship's shield designs. Also suggest optimum weapon frequencies and discharge patterns to most efficiently overcome the Galor-class shields," I spoke aloud to the computer giving my orders.
With these simulation results in hand, I should be much better off should I come toe-to-toe with a Galor-class ship in the future, and hopefully other classes of Cardassian ships since there was always some commonalities in the way a race designed their shields.
"Understood, Gothic. Simulation parameters complete. Program now running. Time to completion, 6 hours, 13 minutes," Scarlett responded in that sexy sweet voice of hers.
"Very good, Scarlett."
With that simulation running in the background, I turned my attention to the sensor readings my systems had recorded on my rifle and handgun's performance during this latest mission, various sensor reports, energy output graphs, and spectroscopic analyses appearing in midair. Considering they were newly designed prototypes, they had performed magnificently in my opinion.
What I had learned from the Collector weapons that I had reverse engineered and the information in that stolen database, had been a godsend. That data had been instrumental in achieving my eventual successful design, along with the thousands upon thousands of simulations I had run on each version of the design to spot problems early on. And let me assure you, there had been plenty! Being an Augment had not stopped me from making some truly dumbass mistakes due to inexperience. Many facepalms at my own stupidity were performed during the process.
Sparing no expense in each weapons' materials had also helped a lot in the end result, though it had also ensured that these designs would never be deployed to a large military force given the exorbitant cost per unit. The power cells themselves were irreplaceable at the moment and not something that I could recreate on my own, but the costs of the rest of the components and materials involved in its construction ran into the thousands of bars of latinum per unit.
Even from just a soldier's practical perspective, and not the perspective of the designer who intimately knew the inner workings of the weapon system, the weapons had felt very comfortable to use even after prolonged use, target acquisition had felt easy and natural, and the power cell had never really reached dangerous levels despite going full auto for an extended period of time at various points. The holographic tests, using the real-world circumstances from some of my old missions on Bajor during the Occupation, had definitely paid dividends in teaching me how to best use my new weapons to kill my enemies.
I set up another series of simulations to run on the weapons' performance and long-term viability with this new live fire sensor data for the computer to work with. These simulations should be more accurate with the new data and give me a better understanding of the power cell discharge and recharge rates and what components might wear out first when placed under prolonged battle stress conditions during wartime. The extremely high-end materials I'd used should help significantly in that regard, though. Once I had those results in hand I could make some changes, if needed, and produce spare parts to be stored on my ship and a few extra rifles and pistols to be kept there and on my island. Despite the extremely high cost and irreplaceable components, only a fool would keep only one set of his weapons around. Combat and battle were unpredictable fucking things and keeping extras on hand was only prudent. Stuff happened.
The HUD programming was still an incomplete project, though. My programming skills were very strong, but I just didn't have the time to really do it justice. Many races had HUD-like systems in various bits and pieces of their technology, including Starfleet, but none of them were exactly what I wanted and envisioned. I really needed to contact Commander Data and see if he could work on the HUD programming for my armor. There was no one better than him at that kind of thing and even serving as a base for me to build upon, it'd cut a ton of time out of the process.
My stealth drones would have been invaluable on this latest mission too. I had used the output of several different kinds of military drones during operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, so I knew just how useful they could be. Initially, I had planned on only using the augmented reality HUD display while the armor's helmet was up and deployed, Iron Man-style, in other words during active combat, but that was very limiting as I couldn't exactly go around with my helmet deployed. The Starfleet folks were already freaked out enough as it was by my armor. A far superior method, in my opinion, would be using a direct neural interface, using the technology in my ship's neural interface helmet, to show the HUD output.
It really wouldn't be all that hard to augment reality via direct mental connection without the helmet being up. The underlying tech to directly display an image via the optic nerves wasn't even all that advanced in this time, though doing without a visibly worn device would be harder. That addictive game that had nearly taken over the Enterprise in TNG had shown that it wasn't that hard to add a visual layer over what the eyes could see with a mental control component, but was not actually visible in reality. In this case, the connection would ideally need to go both ways. My armor's sensor output would be sent to and displayed as if truly in my visual field, overlain on reality. While my onboard computer/sensors would also be taking into account what my eyes could see, running it through a database or running a calculation of some sort, and then outputting it back over my visual field to assist me or give me additional information. Yeah, maybe it was a bit more advanced than that game, but the underlying principles were fundamentally the same, so I knew it was doable.
The real-time database lookups would be the hardest and most time-consuming for the HUD I wanted, but Data would likely do it in a tenth of the time it'd take me to do it and probably do it way better than my expectations. The targeting programs would be relatively simple math and would use the armor and weapon sensor data. Fuck it, what was I waiting for? Yeah, I didn't want to become reliant on Data's help, but I didn't have the time to do this right myself and I wanted these additional capabilities sooner rather than later. If I had to ask for help, so be it. Best to admit my limitations.
Too many projects and not enough time; that was the story of my fucking life these days, though some projects were suffering from a lack of some critical material and knowledge, like the decalithium needed to make my own red matter and thus my own micro-singularity power cells.
"Scarlett, begin recording a subspace communiqué to send to Commander Data, second officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise once finished."
With that command I recorded a message to Data, laying out exactly what I was looking for and providing him with a rough description of my armor's capabilities to build upon and asking for his help in programming a HUD interface that could work with my armor's neural interface, even providing some science fiction references and clips from my own database, both books and films that existed here and some that didn't, to give Data another source of material to base it on. Knowing Data, he'd respond as soon as he was off duty with technical information requests after having thoroughly reviewed my message and the books and films I'd referenced in less than a second, which to an advanced android was like an eternity.
Data had told me several times already that he always enjoyed my requests as it granted him a diverting intellectual challenge significantly different from his normal duties that required research into a myriad number of topics. I reiterated that I owed him one and that he and the senior staff of the Enterprise were always welcome to have their shore leave on my private island at any time. I also offered to outfit him and the senior staff with their own top of the line omni-tools free of charge the next time I was onboard. Getting the senior staff of the Enterprise to start wearing my omni-tools would be a huge coup for me.
With that I turned my attention to a new project that I had already started and nearly finished designing while traveling at warp these last few days, and that was to build my own minigun design. Seeing the utter devastation the Cleaners had wrought with one had given me a burning desire to have my own, though I really had no need for one that actually fired projectiles, regardless of how effective it was at psychological warfare. No, this was not going to be a replica of the one used by the Cleaners, this would be a much more modern version. Yes, it would still have six barrels of spinning death and destruction, but out of them would come deadly phaser or antiproton blasts at a similarly insane rate of fire.
I was actually borrowing quite heavily from the design fundamentals of the original M134 for ideas, which had been designed in 1960, and featured a six-barrel rotary machine gun, firing 7.62mm NATO rounds with an extreme rate of fire of 2,000 to 4,000 rounds per minute. Some sources said the weapon was capable of 6,000 rounds per minute, but the system was reportedly notoriously unreliable at that rate. The reason behind that speed was a powerful electric motor.
Films like Terminator 2 weren't realistic in the sense that this weapon did require an external power source, so it was almost always deployed in vehicles on fixed mounts. And no matter how cool, it was still a gun firing bullets really fast, thus the weapon still had a shit ton of recoil to deal with, especially with all those rounds being fired. The thing also weighed 85 pounds with no ammo and required a ridiculous amount of on-hand ammunition to fire for any appreciable length of time, so it was never intended to be man portable. Though, admittedly, Arnold was a cyborg in the movies, so the weight and recoil wasn't strictly a real issue for him, but the other shit was.
My minigun was being designed with the intent of taking down entire groups of Jem'hadar or Cardassians in short order. I'd be rather shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that virtually no one wore more than light armor in this galaxy. The Jem'hadar did, I thought, so I'd have to take an example of Jem'hadar armor for study to see what it was capable of and how it held up against my weapons. The shows hadn't really said a word on the subject, as best as I could recall, so maybe it wasn't that strong.
As my weapon design wasn't replicating thousands of individual rounds of actual ammunition along with the corresponding chemical propellant, on the spot, every minute, it didn't require a micro-replicator or a Collector power cell, but I had a few spares, so I put one in anyway. Fundamentally, it was little more than six emitters linked together in a circle around a central point. While those emitters spun, only one would fire at a time. It could fire a short pulse burst, or go full auto for about 3,000 bolts per minute. It could even fire a single continuous beam from all six emitters at once, rather than only one, which was the primary reason I'd added the Collector power cell. In continuous beam mode the barrels wouldn't spin at all. Simulations suggested that you could get maybe get about 60 seconds of continuous maximum beam output before the emitters were damaged though. The smaller produced bolts, though numerous, were much less energy intensive and you could fire on full auto pretty much continuously. Weight of fire would eliminate most unarmored to lightly armored targets, like bodies. You could even set the weapon from stun, to heavy stun, to kill, or even vaporize.
Such a weapon should also be able to take down small craft too, like shuttles, which weren't known for armor or overly strong shields. And unlike the version used by the Cleaners my phaser minigun would not violate the Geneva Convention!
I was pretty pleased with the final design all told, to which I added all my normal bells and whistles, like a scope, a power cell meter, and a biometric lock to prevent unauthorized usage, etc. It was still a heavy mother fucker at 50 pounds. It was also smaller than the M134 it was based on, with a shorter set of barrels, though still a bit bulky. It was a deadly weapon in a target rich environment and could even take down small craft. To allow for better portability I added a heavy-duty strap to tie onto my back and a carrying handle, though ideally it'd attach it to my back harness in the spot of my main rifle. The weapon also had an integrated bipod that could be deployed in the field to steady the weapon and a hard point to attach to the doorway or cargo ramp of The Flighty Temptress.
I could see it now, one of my girls piloting the Temptress, while I stood in the doorway of the ship laughing hysterically while raining down deadly fire on massed enemy positions on the ground, looking like a total badass the whole time. Wait, why was Kira now on her knees blowing me while I was mowing down hordes of Collectors? That girl was kinky.
XXXXX
Quark's Bar. Deep Space Nine.
Grand Nagus Zek was not a physically imposing man, even if the several Ferengi who worked for Quark, as well as the bartender himself, acted as if he was. Even Zek's manservant didn't seem like much of a physical threat. Which made me wonder how the old wrinkly alien protected himself from assassins? The man probably had a horde of enemies who'd wish him dead for a hundred different reasons. But such curiosities could wait.
Right now, I had to focus on the business meeting that was about to take place, though more accurately it was more akin to an introduction, a preliminary get to know you meeting before the real meeting took place in the days ahead and the cutthroat wheeling and dealing began. Nothing of import would be decided here today. The Nagus, who carried his staff of office in one hand, made his way to the head of the big table which Quark had prepared for this meeting. I purposely placed myself at the other end of the table, to signal that we were meeting as equals.
My business agent for this transaction, and our host, was clearing the bar of its few patrons. It was still quite early in the day so aside from the wait staff the only people here were Morn, no surprise there, and a few Bajoran visitors to the station. They were quickly hustled out the door with the explanation that the bar had been rented out for a private event.
The bar had been laden with a good mixture of non-replicated food and drink, all very high quality, some obviously meant specifically for the Ferengi pallet, some for humans of Earth origin, but I declined beyond a small drink to be polite. It was best not to get distracted by either food or drink in excess of the demands of propriety and politeness. I might be an Augment, but I was dealing with a Ferengi with a keen mind, with many, many years of experience making these sorts of deals, who was almost certainly the wealthiest and most powerful Ferengi in the known galaxy. So, if I wanted to make a good deal for myself and profit fully from this arrangement, I had to keep my wits about me. The better a deal I made, the wealthier and more powerful I'd become, and in turn the better I could potentially help Bajor in the future and ensure my own survival.
In addition to Quark as my business agent, I had hired the best lawyers and business advisors money could buy, all renowned experts in their respective fields. They were all currently here on the station ready to assist me in all aspects of this deal, though this particular introduction and get to know you was for Zek and myself only, as the leaders of our respective parties. Quark was present here in his capacity as our host only. My lawyers had been of tremendous help in successfully patenting the omni-tool design and technology with every major power in the quadrant in the past year, the more prosperous independent planets as well, including the requisite licensing fees for them to produce it on their own, at least with those places that would respect such things.
My diverse legal team was going to earn every bit of their fees in the days to come as Ferengi laws were rather different than those of the Federation, luckily there were experts on both out there that I could hire. I had hired a crack team of lawyers and advisors, made up of many races, including human, Bajoran, Vulcan, and even Ferengi, to assist me with making this deal. I was no legal or business expert, and I was wise enough to understand that. From the mostly positive results we'd garnered so far, they had been worth every credit and slip of latinum I was paying them for their advice and guidance.
My team of advisors and lawyers were here in another part of the bar meeting with Zek's respective team, getting to know each other before things really started up. Even if this deal wasn't to be made, Zek always traveled with a large entourage. He was, after all, the head of a small, but still quite powerful multi-planetary government. As such, he always had numerous advisers and people around him to carry out his will. Studio budgets tended to limit how many actors they could have dressed up as aliens in each episode, especially ones which required a lot of time-consuming prosthetics and makeup to create the look. Real life didn't have those kinds of limitations.
I kept my focus on Zek alone as one of his many minions handed out several of the datapadds the Grand Nagas had brought with him. Although Quark was here at the moment as our host, he was still my business agent and was provided a padd as a courtesy. as he wasn't available to mingle with the other advisors.
He was only getting a quarter percent commission for his work on this initial deal, which promised to be a huge amount of money, but I was sure he'd find a way to further skim from the profits, like he was with my holo-novels. As long as it was a reasonable amount and his greed didn't get away from him, I wouldn't kick up a fuss. Both his commission for my holo-novels and what he'd get from this deal had a rather vicious contract clause my Ferengi lawyer had recommended, one which allowed me to audit the deal at any time, which included full access to all of his accounts and holdings, even if they weren't related to the deal itself. Any skimming found would require its repayment at a rather large compound interest rate, the clock starting the day the deal was struck.
In other words, I had Quark by the balls and could call for that audit and repayment at any time, thus I had the leverage to exact favors from him long into the future, while keeping his greed to a minimum. That worked just fine for me as the man did have many useful contacts, shady and otherwise, many that wouldn't deal with a human, but would happily deal with him. The man always managed to hear such interesting things and I wanted those things to be passed on to me, so a little bit of graft was well worth the price.
There were reasons why I had hired Quark and several Ferengi attorneys to represent me. As the 17th Rule of Acquisition stated, "A contract is a contract is a contract, but only between Ferengi." With Quark involved, even tangentially, especially since he had a relationship with the Nagus himself, I was far less likely to get ripped off and had remedies available that wouldn't normally be available to a human. That was the price of doing business with the Ferengi.
Plus, I could use his bar for meetings, rather than my official office, so when I made deals like this other people wouldn't feel like they were dealing with a high ranking Bajoran military officer, aka, the government. If this means they underestimated me or were more comfortable, all the better.
Then there were the discounts and privileges that Quark gave me in his bar. He always made sure that there was a holosuite free for me when I was on the station. And he shared gossip, which was always a great source of information on this station.
Perhaps later, when I had more contacts of my own, and had done something to expand Bajor's virtually non-existent off-world intelligence apparatus and network, I could phase Quark out of things, but for now I needed him.
Making a ton of money on this deal would mean more power over my own life, more independence, more choice, and a much better chance for survival long-term. It'd also give me the option to be more generous in aiding Bajor in its recovery in the years to come. Keeping Bajor's government and people happy with me would always pay good long-term dividends and make my job and life easier. It was worth every slip of latinum or materials from my industrial replicator.
I'd promised the Kai that I'd help her people and I intended to keep my word. Bajor had opened its arms to me and welcomed me. It was my home now. A man who didn't try to keep his word had no honor. Unlike many Klingon warriors, I did have some honor and tried to live according to my own philosophy on right and wrong, even when inconvenient.
This deal also had the benefit of increasing and spreading my influence beyond the confines of the Bajoran system. Here I was, meeting directly with a head of state after all and a very powerful one at that. People might not like the Ferengi, how they thought or acted, but no one doubted their influence and reach. No augment since Khan himself had wielded the kind of power and influence I now had legitimately, and since I wasn't ruling directly, no one could reasonably call me a despot or a tyrant. What happened to me when Bajor joined the Federation, though, was anyone's guess. Section 31 had a distinct interest in keeping me in place, so they might use their influence to help ensure that happened.
"Welcome to Deep Space Nine and the Bajoran system, Grand Nagus Zek. I am honored that you made this journey to meet with me to explore the possibility of us doing business with each other. May our profits be as great, numerous, and uncountable as the stars in the universe," I greeted him with a polite smile.
"So, you're the ooman who authored all those successful holo-novels," the Grand Nagus remarked idly, not really acknowledging my polite greeting.
Of course, he'd researched me. Just as I had studied him. For example, I knew that the Grand Nagus was the leader of the Ferengi Alliance. He was both the political leader of the species as well as the economic leader, since for the Ferengi there was little to no difference between those two things. He may as well be considered the supreme religious leader as well given how mercantile the race was and how revered the position was.
Virtually all decisions that affected the Ferengi Alliance required the approval of the Grand Nagus, whose power was supported by the Ferengi Bill of Opportunities and was backed by the Board of Liquidators, whom the infamous 'Brunt,' who appeared in the show several times, was a member of.
The Grand Nagus could even overrule the decisions of the Ferengi Commerce Authority, pretty much the entire government, if he so chose, such as in matters of business license revocation. It was a rare and unusual consolidation of great power in the modern galaxy in a political system that wasn't a traditional hereditary monarchy or the like. Those governing systems were still relatively common actually.
The Grand Nagus' offices were located in the Tower of Commerce on Ferenginar, where he presided over the Alliance from the Chamber of Opportunity. Petitioners regularly sought to speak to the Grand Nagus to solicit advice on business ventures and decisions. In doing so, they were required to pay their respects, literally, in the form of money. Advice, business oriented or personal, though there was little difference to the Ferengi, didn't come cheap, especially from someone as successful as Zek. It was a rather interesting system. Paying money to your leader was quite strange to modern Federation sensibilities, but on the other hand, average citizens, at least on the proverbial paper, had a very rare right to gain an audience to speak with their leader. Whether someone could actually afford that audience was another matter entirely.
"Yes, Grand Nagus. I quite enjoy bringing my creative endeavors to the galaxy and seem to have found an audience who were not previously being served by mainstream holo-publishing," I replied, making the effort to address the man with the same level of respect as I would Bajor's First Minister or a Starfleet Admiral. "Have you enjoyed my works?"
Unlike many, I didn't think as badly of the Ferengi as many modern humans in the Federation did these days. In my opinion the humans were worse than the Ferengi. Oh, the Federation types might claim we'd evolved from our barbaric past, but as Sisko himself had once said, 'It's easy to be a saint in paradise.' Take that paradise away and humanity could make the most bloodthirsty Klingon look like an angry puppy. The Terran Empire in the alternate universe was proof of that. The Ferengi were just a lot more open and honest about who they were as a people.
"Well, I'm not one for action stories, but I can certainly respect good sales, which is why I purchased the Ferengi publisher of your works an hour ago," Zek replied, offering the Ferengi version of a compliment delivered with a sharp, shark-like smile. I could tell that he was closely observing me to catch my reaction.
"I see," I replied calmly, trying to hide my racing thoughts. "I'm sure it will prove a profitable acquisition for you."
If he had only purchased my publisher an hour ago, I wasn't surprised that I hadn't yet heard the news; the Grand Nagus may have even purposely ensured it remained a secret to spring it on me like this. This move by the Grand Nagus had many implications. An hour before meeting with me to discuss the replication and distribution of my omni-tools, Zek had made a huge acquisition of a business I was already closely linked to and couldn't immediately extricate myself from if things went badly in this deal. That couldn't be a coincidence.
My holo-publisher was one of the largest in the known galaxy with a lot of popular authors and titles to their name, it could not have been a cheap acquisition. Had Zek purchased it as a prelude to our deal? Was it just to get one over on me? Was he attempting to bring our association closer together and make it more likely that we'd expand our business relationship to include my omni-tools? Was he making a subtle statement/threat that failure to reach a deal on my omni-tools could mean bad things in the future for my holo-publishing? I had long known that the profits from my holo-novels would be dwarfed by what I could make from selling my omni-tools. Had Zek also figured that out? If we struck a deal regarding my omni-tools we would be intimately linked in business on two of my major and continuous income streams. Was part of his deal, a sweetener if you will, to offer more favorable terms when publishing my works?
I glanced to Quark subtly and tried to convey the message that my team needed to be made aware of this new development immediately, so that they could adjust their strategies accordingly. Quark nodded, just as subtly, before excusing himself from our immediate presence. He'd likely be gathering any information on the acquisition before disseminating it to my advisors.
"Have you ever considered writing holo-novels of a more purely…erotic nature?" the Grand Nagus asked, derailing my racing thought process. "There is a lot of latinum to be made in that area. Sex always sells."
He was good. Zek was trying to unsettle me, first with the news that he had purchased my publisher, and now with this question. I suspect he was trying to get a better read on me and my personality, and how I ultimately compared to the many humans he was likely used to dealing with in the Federation. Alas it would not work, unlike most humans, I had zero issue with sex, even in a holo setting. To each their own, I felt.
"No, I don't think my writing style is particularly well suited for a purely erotic holo-novel, however many of my programs do offer the user the opportunity to engage in sexual encounters or romantic relationships with the various characters in the context of the overall story, which could result in sex if the user desired it. My standard holomatrix is adaptive enough, coupled with the overall quality of my writing and the depth of my fictional worlds, to allow for a very fulfilling encounter. My writing philosophy is that sex is a vital, important, and healthy part of our humanoid life, and thus it should be a normal part of our storytelling and not something to be shied away from. Too many human authors act frightened by it or feel it cheapens their work to include such a thing, I couldn't disagree more," I answered, offering my truthful opinion on the subject. "While I personally prefer live sexual partners to holo-sex, to each their own, I say. Not everyone is capable of living the debaucherous, sexual fantasy that is our day-to-day lives. Wouldn't you agree, Grand Nagus?" I asked with a huge, lascivious smile.
After a moment of still shock, despite his best efforts, the Grand Nagus laughed uproariously in that very distinctive way of his. His laugh was so loud and long that many in the bar turned to look in our direction, obviously wondering what we were talking about. After several long moments of intense laughter, the Nagus turned thoughtful, a small smile still on his face as he stared at me, realizing his attempt to unsettle me had failed. Not that I was even offended by it, in my view having sex with a hologram was a bit strange and somewhat akin to a very advanced form of masturbation, but I had no issues with those that enjoyed that. Some fantasies were incredibly hard to come by in real life, so I could certainly understand the urge to carry them out holographically. My life was practically a porn film these days and I couldn't be happier, so I didn't really have much in the way of sexual fantasies that I couldn't fulfill in real life or hadn't already. On the other hand, as a professional holo-author, it would probably be prudent to personally experience what my customers might in my programs.
"On to business then," he said jovially. "The purpose of this preliminary meeting is first, to meet and get to know each other, the two principals involved in this potential deal, and second to ensure that we mutually understand each other's goals and what each can offer the other. Ultimately, you wish to use Ferengi industry to mass produce and distribute these omni-tool devices to planets across the quadrant as the devices are very sophisticated and require a number of rare and valuable materials to produce. This level of replication is beyond the ability of many worlds to achieve. While it would take several large business concerns working together at full capacity to achieve the number of units your first production run requires, the number and timeline to produce the units and transport them is something we can provide, for a price. However, we must ensure that there is actual demand for this before we go to full scale production, as I doubt you wish to pay each unit's full costs upfront, before being sold."
I'd imagined him saying something like that. I'd prepared for this meeting like how I prepared for a Section 31 mission. Only this time words would be my weapons and cleverness and cunning my armor.
"I've already begun generating interest and demand within Starfleet. In fact, a proposal has already been submitted to Starfleet Operations to begin field testing the device in the hopes that it will be approved for use throughout the Federation," I told the Grand Nagas, who was visibly surprised. Two could play that game fucker. Dax had authored and submitted that request. I'd have to send her another thank you. "If Starfleet Operations approves, the device will practically market itself throughout the quadrant."
"Impressive, but dependent on Starfleet Operations' approval," the Nagus pointed out correctly. "They have been very conservative in the past in this regard; very slow to accept new standard equipment."
"That's true, however, as I am a General in the Bajoran Militia, I don't need anyone's approval to outfit my own people. I intend to equip the entire Bajoran off-world Militia with this device. You can be sure that the main body of the Militia will also soon want to be equipped. Since this station officially belongs to Bajor, many Starfleet personnel have more latitude in their equipment choices, so many already use it daily and swear by it. With all the Bajoran personnel on this station wearing them daily, and some Starfleet, they'll serve as walking advertisements to the many visitors coming here each day to visit from all over the quadrant. Visitors to the station have asked many times what it is my people are wearing and where they can acquire one of their own."
I'd have to ensure a decent discount for the Bajoran militia, but that fine detail could wait until we were working on the details of the contract. I'd replicate all those units myself.
"However, I foresee the Federation and its citizens will be my main market and customers," I said to the Grand Nagus. "The omni-tool is more than a simple tool, it combines a tricorder, a communications device, and a personal computer in one portable and wearable device. It will be invaluable to Starfleet for their away teams alone; they will want them. Even the average Federation citizen will like the idea of an easily portable computer and communications device with some scanning capabilities, for scientific purposes. You know how much the Federation loves its science."
That last remark caused a few chuckles. Stereotypes were alive and well even in the 24th century.
"Based on current sales, my people have created sophisticated sales forecasts predicting sales in the millions of units within 1-5 years, in the billions in 5-10 years. If your people are willing to sign a non-disclosure agreement, we are happy to share the data with you and your team of advisors," I told the aliens. "I see the future, Grand Nagus, and I can foresee a time when every adult person in the Alpha Quadrant, at a minimum, has an omni-tool on their forearm…or similar appendage."
They certainly did in Mass Effect and those games were giving me many great ideas for upgrades down the line. The galaxy of Mass Effect was probably the closest one to the modern alpha quadrant of Star Trek.
"One of my nearly completed holo-novels, titled 'Mass Effect', is a story set in another galaxy with many advanced races all of them wearing my omni-tools. I intend to publish this work at the same time I begin selling my omni-tools. In effect, my holo-novel will serve as advertising for the omni-tool, beginning with my already established fan base," I explained with passion.
"An intriguing and unusual form of marketing, Mr. Gothic," Zek responded, looking intrigued. "Tell me more of this future you envision."
"Let's assume my prediction for the future is prophetic and my omni-tool is adopted widely. The profit per unit will not be fixed. I have future plans for multiple models at different price points, from simple to advanced, from bare bones to a near luxury item, that only the richest can afford. After an appropriate amount of time, when the quadrant has come to enjoy my invention and is clamoring for more, I have upgrades in mind that will practically render obsolete the existing generation of devices. I have also locked down the operating system of the device so that any companies or parties in the future that wish to add software to it will have to pay me a licensing fee per unit. This will keep the profits coming in for many, many years to come," I said. "Of course, the prototype model I've already produced myself in limited numbers to test the market demand is inferior to the model I hope you'll mass produce, and that model has been very well received."
"Are you sure that you are human and not Ferengi?" Zek joked, before doing that wheezing laugh of his.
I was all smiles, "You honor me with even the suggestion, Grand Nagus."
Zek just nodded, looking pleased.
"I look forward to doing business with you, General Gothic. My lobes tingle at the profit we can make together and my lobes are never wrong!"
"So do I, Grand Nagus," I responded, smiling widely, while my thoughts turned to future upgrades I could make to the omni-tool.
The first model I'd produce and release would be basic, the Ferengi would make it as cheap as possible to produce and thus for people to buy, get used to it, and hopefully get hooked on, but it would also be easy to personally customize with additional modules I'd sell. If I involved them in more than just production and distribution, but in the sales end as well, I imagined that he'd sell them in bulk and let the various governments or groups that bought the devices decide who got them. That was how I'd do it, but how they'd be sold would need to be something I approved and formalized in this deal. Maybe I should hire a marketing company to craft an ad campaign?
In time, I'd update the design and release the second generation omni-tool, just like new models of cell phones had been released in my old dimension. I had built several custom models for people on the station so I had some great ideas on that front. I'd done that to generate interest and to earn some goodwill, but it had given me some great ideas, many of which came from the people who were, in effect, beta-testing my new device.
With that said, I think Zek and I now understood each other better and the serious talk was over. He seemed intrigued and excited at the possibilities, which had been the point of my pitch. I wanted him excited to work with me, to see the tremendous opportunity in front of him, so that he'd do whatever was required to make me happy and gain my business, rather than the other way around. I'd (hopefully) sold him on the huge profit potential here should he work with me. Now he needed to work to gain my business.
The rest of the evening was spent eating and drinking and sharing stories to get to know one another. The dozen or so omni-tools I'd brought for testing were soon being passed around and played with and I had quite a bit of fun demonstrating what they could do and why I thought they were better than anything currently available and why they'd sell well. Tomorrow all our lawyers and advisors would be involved in hammering out a deal that both sides could live with. Once we were in agreement, the deal would be formalized and signed. This was going to be the work of many long, long days, I'm sure. Normally a deal of this magnitude would take weeks, or months at a minimum to iron out, but I now had the distinct sense that everyone wanted this deal to happen.
XXXXX
Promenade. Deep Space Nine.
It was now late evening and the preliminary talks were over for the day, both sides resting in preparation for the long meeting tomorrow. As an Augment I didn't require much sleep, so I was currently standing on the second-level looking down to the lower level as a ship full of people from the Core Worlds of the Federation (Earth, Andor, Vulcan and so on), though mostly humans, but a few other races too, deboarded the transport.
Basically, I was girl watching, but not in the harmless and juvenile way that Jake and Nog did in the show. I was like a lion stalking juicy zebra, hunting for the perfect someone to seduce tonight. This might seem creepy to some, maybe even wrong, as I did have a 'harem' of beautiful Bajoran babes who would happily grace my bed and warm my cock with just a call. In truth, it was neither. If I had to label what we had, though, the closest name would be 'best friends with benefits,' though it was a lot more than that. My Bajoran girls knew that I pursued other women to sleep with from time to time.
My Bajoran babes almost certainly knew about Dax, for instance, a frequent lover of mine, as Kira and her worked and talked together in Ops every day. Thankfully, my Bajoran lovers didn't seek out lovers of their own, though I wasn't so sure about Dax. Yes, it wasn't exactly fair on my part, but I had never actually stopped them or told them that they couldn't have other lovers. As things evolved I could easily see us all becoming something more official. Thankfully, my enhanced libido and stamina (and wealth) meant that I could keep up with all of them (and afford them) and spoiled them when we were together.
Alas, my current prey were not all juicy and worthy of being hunted. Human women might not be as sexually repressed in this day and age, and human fitness was by and large at a much, much higher level across the board given modern medicine and the ability to carefully monitor and make changes to food with modern replication, but that didn't mean they were all equally sexy and fuckable. There were distinct intangibles involved, something lacking in personality that I wanted.
Then my eyes were drawn to a lovely body, wearing a skirt a bit too long, but which somehow worked for her. She also wore a blouse which showed some decent cleavage. And those were some lovely boobs, pretty big and perky, and oddly familiar. Who could that be?
What the fuck?! That was Annika freaking Hansen, aka Seven of Nine, who in this time, due to the Borg having been defeated centuries ago, had never been assimilated and become a drone. Instead, she became a librarian, in love with the past, and my pseudo ex-girlfriend. When my ship had arrived out of the blue, I immediately went out into the galaxy to seek adventure. Perhaps a dick move on my part. I had asked her to come with me, but her own past had kept her from accepting. The last time we'd been together on Earth she'd left in tears and in the years since I'd often thought of her and wondered what was going on in her life.
Now, inexplicably, without any warning at all, she was here on DS9, despite her loathing of space travel because her parents, who were explorers, had dragged her into the far reaches of space from a very young age.
She carried a travel bag over one shoulder, and one of those old-fashioned suitcases on wheels, which was probably an antique design. It looked pretty heavy, so perhaps I should offer to carry it for her and find out what the hell was going on.
XXXXX
Replimat. Deep Space Nine.
While Quarks might be one of the few places to go for an evening out with a lady on this station, I'd been stuck in that bar all damn afternoon, so I'd invited Annika to the replimat, and she'd actually shown up on time, with a smile on her face! Since she was a woman, whom I had hurt quite badly, I found this rather unexpected and unsettling, especially given our somewhat contentious history. Had all the time apart given her a new perspective on our former relationship? Making me wait for a while or even standing me up as a form of petty revenge had definitely been a reasonable possibility in my mind.
She'd changed for this date, if that was what this was, into some sort of flower themed dress that would have looked old fashioned even in my time, but when you had huge, perky, gravity defying boobs, an ass so firm coins would bounce off it, and a model-like figure, well, you could get away with dressing like an old librarian and still look drop dead sexy.
We both ordered something from the public replicators and carried our meals to the tables and soon began talking.
"I have to admit, I never expected to see you out this way, so far away from Earth," I observed with a curious smile, carefully watching her facial features trying to divine her thoughts. "Why are you all the way out here?"
Given her only mild look of surprise upon seeing me it was clear that she'd known I was in these parts, even if she hadn't actually seemed to expect to run into me so soon. Annika feared space travel, or perhaps just had no desire for it given her childhood, so her being here, so far away from Earth, in what Bashir had once called the Federation frontier, was a shock. We were 6 weeks away from Earth at high warp, after all.
"I've started work towards my doctorate in literature," she answered, "but I was having trouble finding a unique and interesting research topic to write my dissertation on. On Earth we have so many doctors, in so many fields, that it's hard to find something truly original to sink your teeth into, something that someone hasn't already written a paper or twenty on."
Well, she did live in a world of sad, conformist, hippy nerds. Seeking out advanced degrees was practically expected on Earth, so maybe finding a unique research area was difficult.
"But a few months ago, I was talking with my boss, and he told me that an old and famous University here on Bajor had just reopened for the first time in more than half a century, after receiving a large donation from a private citizen. They need a head research librarian, preferably a non-Bajoran, to help them organize and restore what books and materials they've managed to recover after the Occupation and to lead their efforts in finding anything that might be in off-world hands to restore their lost culture. That's why they thought a Federation citizen might be ideal for the job."
"Because as an alien off-worlder you would have a much better understanding of how the Federation and its members, as well as other non-aligned races, would have stored this information and what private collectors out there might have Bajoran works. Works that due to the Cardassians now don't even exist on Bajor itself?" I surmised aloud.
"Exactly!" she responded passionately. I could tell just how excited she was talking about this and it somehow made her 10x more attractive to me. Those old familiar feelings came roaring back and I found myself enthralled. "I guess the Cardassians banned many topics and works, and had deleted much from their cultural databases and even burned books that they deemed against the state. A lot was lost entirely, though a lot was stolen and sold off-world by corrupt officials, which has actually been a boon," she explained. "So, I thought 'why not help the Bajorans restore their lost ancient literature and write a dissertation on the topic, with a secondary focus on why the Cardassians sought to erase this part of Bajor's history and culture.' The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. Their culture is thousands of years older than Earth's after all and yet the rest of the galaxy knows so little about it. They were sailing the stars in their light ships when the humans on Earth were just starting to sail the oceans!"
Her excitement and passion was contagious to me. And it was a good area for study given how old and rich Bajoran culture was. There was also a certain irony here.
"I'm really happy for you, Annika; that you've found something like this to excite you, enough so that it even managed to bring you out this far into the galaxy. The Bajorans are a wonderful people and I think you'll fall in love with this world and its people, just like I did," I said genuinely, with a soft smile on my face as our eyes met and held. "I've never regretted my decision to go out into the galaxy. It's been an adventure worthy of a Klingon opera, but I've often thought of you, of us, and wondered how you were doing and if you were thinking of me too."
There was a long pause as she gazed into my eyes. It lasted so long I wondered if I had made a mistake and had made things unbearably awkward between us.
"I have often thought of you too, Gothic," she responded quietly, looking down at the table. "I loved the time we spent together, and was very sad when it ended, but I understood your desire to go out into the galaxy to explore and find adventure. And I'm so glad we ran into each other today. You sent me a note a while back saying that you were in this sector, but I didn't anticipate running into you the very second I got off the transport!"
"It's definitely ironic, as if the universe wanted us to meet again," I joked, but wondering if there actually was some truth to that.
"What do you mean?" she asked, visibly confused, but with a happy smile.
"I mean, it's ironic that the university reopening and this project to restore and find lost Bajoran culture, the very reason that brought you out here, was because of my donation of funds and building materials," I responded with a shit eating grin. "I'm the private citizen who made the donation!"
"That was you?!"
"Yes, it seemed like a really worthy cause. Bajor is my home now. If Bajor is truly going to be restored, in the full meaning of the word, it has to mean more than just restoring the physical, buildings and what not. It has to also mean restoring the Bajoran culture that was lost or destroyed by the Cardassians," I answered, trying not to sound boastful. "In thanks, they offered to name a few university buildings after me, but I haven't decided which one to choose as of yet. Maybe the universe wants me to choose the library. 'The Gothic Library for Lost Culture' has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Annika just looked wide eyed with shock for several long moments, before she giggled at my silliness, covering her mouth with her hand. It was a very beautiful sound and I found myself wanting to hear it again.
"It's not bad," she joked with an eye roll, amongst more giggling. "Is that what you're doing these days? Helping Bajor recover from the Occupation?"
"Amongst other things," I replied honestly. "I help where I can, but I'm mostly focused on protecting the planet, keeping it safe from external threats, including the Cardassians."
"I hear Bajor's pretty peaceful these days; that the discovery of the wormhole has brought the planet a lot of attention and prosperity," she added.
"That's true, for the most part. It is peaceful. The Provisional Government has really done a lot to help Bajor recover from the Occupation, and the discovery of the wormhole certainly helped in terms of funds, aid, and attention from off-world. Unfortunately, the wormhole has also brought a slew of other issues and challenges with it."
She was right, the post-Occupation recovery had been relatively peaceful so far, but the Cardassians were probably working behind the scenes even at this very moment trying to foment unrest. We'd foiled one plan of theirs, that didn't mean that others weren't in the works.
The Circle would become active sooner or later and then things would be far less peaceful for all non-Bajorans, on the planet and on the station. Given my high rank in the Militia and the fact that I was human, despite being a citizen, I somehow doubted the xenophobic hate group would be approaching me anytime soon to join them. In fact, I thought it far more likely I'd experience an assassination attempt or two, regardless of my reputation and contribution during the Occupation. Hatred like that had a way of ignoring past good deeds.
Annika chewed some of her food before speaking again.
"My transport to Bajor won't arrive at the station until tomorrow afternoon," she mentioned offhandedly.
Which meant we might have breakfast together, after spending the night together in a marathon of passion. We'd have to see how things progressed, but I was certainly willing. Annika might not be Seven of Nine in personality, but she was one very sexy lady and a lovely woman in personality as well. I hadn't been lying before either; I had greatly enjoyed our time together and had thought of her many times over the years since leaving Earth, wondering what might have been, had I stayed.
Oh! Maybe I should set my omni-tool to record any sex that took place! Finally, I'd have my sex tape! Huh… adding a holo imaging camera to the sensor suite on my armor would be pretty useful. The Doctor on Voyager had shown just how useful such a device could be. I probably had the memory capacity too…
"I'd be very happy to give you a tour of the station," I responded, smiling at her, and letting my foot brush up against her leg. She didn't seem to mind.
"I have been very curious about the uniform you're wearing. Just what are you doing these days, besides playing philanthropist?" she asked, interrupting my thoughts concerning a holo sex tape.
What I said next made her almost do a spit take.
"I'm a General in the Bajoran Militia," I answered.
Yeah, she needed a moment or two to process that.
"A General?! In the Bajoran military? But you're human!" she asked and exclaimed incredulously. "Isn't that like a Starfleet Admiral?"
Kind of. Somewhat.
"Technically, I suppose, if I had to make a rank equivalency in Starfleet terms, though it's a bit silly to compare the two given the difference in size, scope, and purview. A Bajoran Militia General would be akin to a Starfleet Admiral in rank, technically. A Colonel akin to a Captain, a Major a Commander, etc.," I explained. "Since I'm the commander of all off world Militia forces and installations that makes me a Fleet Admiral or thereabout. It's hard to compare ranks because it depends on how the Militia becomes structured as it grows and how large it gets in time. I said technically it's akin to a Starfleet Admiral, but Bajor's military is probably as strong as a relatively successful, but fairly new Federation colony, on a good day, so the comparison is a bit screwy since Bajor has a population, even post-Occupation, that is much higher than a colony like that would typically have."
It was hard to make a straight up comparison. A Federation colony had a vast interstellar infrastructure to draw upon if they wanted. The Bajoran Militia, though, had the numbers and combat experience to draw upon to scale up into a truly deadly and effective fighting force, but lacked the overall budget, equipment, and installations to really project any kind of meaningful force beyond its own orbit. It was arguable to even call the Militia a true military, honestly, though I was advocating a change in name as soon as possible to better legitimize us. Branding was important. Calling us the Bajoran Defense Forces would be better, since there were really no separate branches with a separate purview of responsibility, it was all just one big military. Besides, 'Militia' just sounded so hokey and unprofessional and reminded me of those survivalist crazies in Montana from my time.
"Wait, so, are you in charge of this entire station?" she asked.
I shook my hand in the air.
"Kind of? On paper I am, but in reality the station is run by Starfleet at the Bajoran government's invitation, for various rather important reasons," I responded with yet another qualified answer. The situation was complex and it didn't really make sense to try to explain it all. "But all the other Bajoran military bases and ships in this system are under my true command."
The most powerful of which were the 12 attack fighters that I had purchased for Bajor with my own funds.
"So, you get to order people around, and they have to do exactly what you say," Annika said with an aroused and interested smirk, her tongue licking her lips slowly now. "Is that fun? It sounds like fun."
Well, I had been ordering people around since I'd gotten off the Enterprise and it could be fun at times. I'd certainly enjoyed sexually dominating my beautiful Bajoran babes both during the Occupation and after, which they really enjoyed lately.
"It can be," I answered, my eyes and tone smoldering as I leaned closer to her, "especially with beautiful naughty girls who have to be shown that their place is under me. Do you want me to order you around, Annika?"
Her only response was a sexy, inviting smile. It seemed another hot and sexy woman was getting off on the idea of being dominated by General Gothic.
When I felt her starting to play footsie with me under the table, running her bare foot up and down my leg and up to my thigh and into my lap, I knew we'd be having a good time.
XXXXX
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Chapter 29: 18,125 words
Chapter 30: 21,022 words
