The Adventures of Augment Gothic (A Star Trek SI)

by Joe Lawyer

A present-day Star Trek fan is forcibly thrust into that dimension and made anew as an Augment, a genetically engineered superman, on the whim of a mischievous god. Armed with knowledge of this dimension's past and future, he's determined to live well, have fun with alien women, and make it look easy. Elements of DS9/TNG/Voy/Ent. Originally co-written with GothicJedi666.

14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

"Prejudice is a great time saver. You can form opinions without having to get the facts." – E.B. White

"Prejudice is a form of untruthfulness, and untruthfulness is an insidious form of injustice." - Miroslav Volf

The Adventures of Augment Gothic

Chapter 14 –

The Institute. Earth.

As I walked up the driveway I took in all the details of my surroundings, creating a perfect mental map of the area, just in case. That felt like an ingrained habit by now. My eyes were constantly moving, my senses fully open, taking in details big and small, but ultimately trying to spot any sign of danger, like a trap or ambush. It wasn't paranoia if people really were out to get you, after all. Earth was a very safe place overall, but things could happen here too.

My training missions with T'Maz had been an eye opener on many levels. The battles with the Collectors, in space and on a planet in two different dimensions was one thing, but many of my fears and suspicions regarding Section 31's surveillance of me in this new life had been confirmed in my talks with T'Maz. It had been both better and worse than I had expected, if that made sense.

Thankfully, the ruthless spy organization had been happy with us and our performance, concluding that our last mission had ultimately been a success per the mission parameters. The payday with a combat and hazard multiplier, was a welcome addition to my bank account, though my improved Tron holoprogram was bringing in a decent amount on a regular basis too. It seemed I had a small but growing fanbase eager for more of my work.

The Collectors or Hur'q, or whatever you wanted to call them, represented a tremendous potential future danger to the Federation and the alpha quadrant itself. As the insect-like aliens seemed capable of detecting dimensional rifts created by the device and had so single-mindedly thrown away their lives attempting to bring it back to their dimension, destroying it had been deemed an acceptable outcome when protecting it from them in the future seemed a dubious proposition. The huge amounts of data we'd brought back on them, including several working examples of their technology, had probably helped a great deal as well. Knowing how Section 31 operated, I had little to no doubt that Section 31 had already dispatched a team to that planet to retrieve the corpses and weapons of the many Collectors I had killed for study and cleansed the planet of any evidence that there had been an incursion at all. It's exactly what I'd do, after all.

Upon our return to Earth, we had been debriefed, in fact T'Maz was still being debriefed, and I had been left free to my own devices. Part of me was very tempted to seek out Annika and see how she was doing, but another part of me wanted to give her her space. I was the one who had left after all, to seek out adventure. I'd gotten that and then some. Fucking space/time anomalies. Fucking evil mirror universe fuckery. Fucking Star Trek bullshit.

Sigh… Yeah, I was a little salty.

My unexpected return to Earth had finally given me the kick in the pants and the opportunity that I'd needed to make a visit and introduce myself to a few folks I'd long considered kindred souls, in a sense, the Augments of 24th century Star Trek (kind of). Many other tasks had been higher priority, which had always stopped me. Plus, it just wouldn't have looked good for me to have sought out other Augments, especially so soon after my return to Earth. Perception was a powerful thing, for good or ill, and if it looked like I was gathering up my fellow Augments, the fear that I was putting together an army of like minded genetically enhanced freaks probably wouldn't have done me any favors.

During our missions T'Maz had mentioned the Augments kept at the Institute, as examples of failed or at least imperfect genetic enhancements performed in the modern day, in contrast to the genetic enhancements that I'd undergone. With that conversation 'on the record' as it were, I felt a little more comfortable making this trip. It gave me the cover I needed with Section 31. I had even mentioned to her that I might visit with my fellow enhanced during this visit to Earth. This was meant to give her, and the paranoid organization that she worked for, the warning necessary to keep them from being alarmed.

A large part of me felt it was utterly ridiculous that I had to think like this, for these fears to govern my actions, but that was the reality of my situation and there was little at this point that I could do about it. At times it filled me with a rage that threatened to consume me; I was a badass in a lot of ways, but no matter how powerful I was, I was still only one man, and I would be easy to kill if someone really wanted me dead. I was taking steps every day to remove or minimize those vulnerabilities, at least the ones I could foresee, but it took time, it took money, and it took resources. It also required me to accept a certain amount of risk when I was testing new technologies that I'd designed and created, or exploiting my foreknowledge like with the opportunities on Minos.

Thankfully, I was in the good graces of Section 31 and was a useful asset to them, at least for now, because I had no doubt that without their interference and protection both internal and external power players in the alpha quadrant might have already made a move on me for one reason or another. The Klingons could have a very long memory when it came to certain things, like the near extinction of their race. They'd remember what human Augments had once done to them, no matter how at fault they were for that whole debacle.

And even beyond old grudges putting me in danger, there were many races and polities in the alpha quadrant who would love to carefully study the stable genetic enhancements that were so far beyond modern medical science, at least for most races. Humanity might have been squeamish about messing around a second time with their DNA, but most other races weren't. They'd love to lock me in a cell or in a stasis field and experiment with my DNA to see what they could learn, maybe even reverse engineering the process that had changed me in the hopes of improving their own genomes with similar enhancements.

Turning my attention to the here and now, the house/mansion turned medical facility in front of me looked old, although it was in a very good state of repair. The industrial replicators of this time made maintaining or repairing an old building like this rather easy and cost effective, unlike in my own time.

I had thought it probably a thousand times since coming to this dimension, but replicators had fundamentally changed human life on so many different levels it wasn't even funny. To maintain a place like in my time would have cost an arm and a leg. Just fixing the elaborate custom woodwork over time, for example, would have required you to source a similar looking and quality lumber, then you'd have to painstakingly carve or router out the patterns, the pieces would need to be painted or stained to match the existing woodwork, maybe distressed to match the age, the list went on and on. Bottom line, there would have been a lot of expensive materials and skilled craftsman to pay for before you got to the finished piece.

In the modern day, though, a few scans, and the computer could create a matching design and simply replicate an entirely finished piece of woodwork, complete with finishing, stained and painted to match and ready to be installed in place, like you were just matching up a perfectly fitting puzzle piece into a slot.

This place looked like it had been built by someone with more money than sense, like a 20th Century pop star or movie star, or some hedge fund billionaire, because it was far too large to be a personal home in this time, which was most likely why the Federation government had turned the place into a mental hospital. The people of this time just didn't think like that anymore, or maybe just didn't want the same things, though I personally had no issue with building some palatial estate when I decided to put down roots eventually. Anything else just seemed so utterly boring to me. I had big plans for a large-scale training facility, full sized holodeck, armory, hanger bay for my ship, the works!

It was just starting to rain lightly as I neared the front door of the main building. I could hear the first drops of water as they hit the Spanish style roof and the rain soon started pouring heavily down from the sky, like it was the start of a biblical flood.

Before I knocked on the door I tilted my head up in curiosity, letting the rain fall on my face, tasting the rain on my tongue. The water, tasted pure! Like the water I'd once tasted from a cold mountain stream that had filtered through thousands of tons of rock before it had reached me. This was quite different from what my memories told me rainwater should taste like near a major city. The factory smokestacks and tailpipes of internal combustion engines pumping millions of tons of CO2 into the air were a distant memory for Earth. The planet had been restored to a near pristine state after the terrible damage done by wars past. Communist hippies they might be, but humanity really had come a long way from my time when it came to taking care of the planet we called home.

I rang the old-fashioned doorbell and a moment later a Starfleet officer answered the door, which struck me as odd. Starfleet wasn't a real military per se, in fact it acted more often like NASA then a true space navy. They really shouldn't be taking care of the mentally ill.

The Starfleet officer and I, who was named Dr. Karen Loews and had appeared in several episodes of Deep Space 9, exchanged mild pleasantries, then she offered me an umbrella that matched her own.

"Thank you," I said, slightly confused at the need for it, "but isn't this the hospital?"

As it turned out there was more than one building on the Institute's campus so we left the old house and began to walk across the beautiful manor grounds to another building. This one was far more modern and near the edge of a beautiful still pond, colorful water lilies floating on the surface, comfortable wooden benches all around the water's edge.

It was hard for me to clearly see everything, due to the heavy rain, yet what landscape I could make out gave me the impression that this was probably quite a relaxing and picturesque place to visit when the weather cooperated. I wouldn't want to live here, though, as it was still an insane asylum of sorts, but it was still pretty.

Nothing about the building that housed the people I was coming to visit suggested that it was a secure unit, designed to keep its residents separate from the rest of society. Yet I knew that appearances could be deceiving and that it did have somewhat of a sinister purpose.

"I thought a few months here on rotation would be a good experience for me. Something to broaden my experience in this field," Loews explained to me, "and something interesting to pass the time before I received my next posting. But there's just something about the work here that I find very appealing, very fulfilling. I think I'm going to stay on."

Personally, and no offense to her, I hoped that I wouldn't be around here long enough to find out if Loews stuck around. The last thing I wanted was to end up spending my life locked up at this funny farm, no matter how lovely the grounds likely were on a nice day.

"Please don't take this the wrong way Doctor, but what is a Starfleet officer doing working here?" I asked, genuinely interested in knowing. "Everything here appears to be a civilian matter."

Karen Loews then went on to explain that The Institute, as it was known, was in fact a civilian run and operated institution, but some of its staff, like Loews, were Starfleet personnel. In practice, therefore, the Institute wasn't wholly civilian in personnel. However, Karen Loews and the other Starfleet Medical types that worked here were medical personnel and science types, not security or command folks. Knowing this made the place seem a bit less sinister.

That impression lasted right until I heard the familiar hum of electrostatically charged air. In order to confirm what I thought I was hearing, I knelt briefly and picked up a small stone lying on the ground and flicked it hard and fast in the direction that I was hearing the sound from. Just as I suspected, it hit an energy barrier and was vaporized, for a brief moment bringing the force field into full visibility.

"What did you do that for?" asked Loews, sounding alarmed at my action.

I would have thought that that was patently obvious.

"To confirm a suspicion," I replied with a harder look in my eyes, "and now that I know what's there I know that this isn't just a hospital."

The hard look in my eyes caused the Doctor to unconsciously step back a little, before she regained control of herself and frowned in what looked almost like embarrassment.

"Yes, yes, I can understand why that might give someone like you pause," she said, taking a deep breath and breaking eye contact, looking away at where the energy barrier was. "I don't agree with everything that happens here, but as much as humanity might claim otherwise, old prejudices die hard. I think you might be in a better position to recognize that than anyone, given your unique origins."

This place also probably served as a prison, meant to keep dangerous mentally disturbed people separate and away from the general public, at least in their minds. Whether that was mostly out of some lingering prejudice remained to be seen.

A look of resolve was now in her eyes, though, and she met my eyes once again.

"While I might not agree with all of the Institute's policies and procedures, I can assure you that no one is mistreated here! On that you have my word!" she assured me vehemently.

I had nothing to say in response to that. I knew how badly humanity, in my time and before, had once treated the mentally ill. This place looked more like a drug rehabilitation center for the privileged and ultra-rich back in my time, force field excluded.

"Can you tell me about the patients you want me to meet?" I asked the Starfleet medical doctor. Best to ask a question like that and get the information in a reasonable and easily explainable manner, rather than, you know, the truth.

Loews happily went along with the shift in conversation, eager to speak of something less unpleasant.

"First, there is Patrick," she said. "He's the oldest of our genetically enhanced patients and has been institutionalized here for over 50 years. As a child his parents took him to undergo an illegal procedure called accelerated critical neural pathway formation, which dramatically increased his intelligence beyond what humans would call genius level. Unfortunately, as so often happens, the procedure had unexcepted side effects, and essentially froze him in a child-like state of personal development. He remains to this day almost child-like in temperament and the way he interacts with others, likely a combination of unexpected effects from his genetic enhancements and the lack of social skills he's been able to develop in this setting. He's also overly emotional and rather shy, though no danger to anyone in my opinion. If he wasn't an augment he'd almost certainly be living in a community care home, where he could be looked after while still being fully a part of society. In my view he shouldn't have been institutionalized in the first place, but the laws on genetic enhancement being what they are..." trailing off, looking worried about my reaction.

She didn't need to finish that sentence. The laws were strict and rather unforgiving when it came to augments, which was so very, very unlike the Federation. The note of shame in her tone was appreciated, though. Her personal interactions with these people had obviously tempered any cultural prejudice she might have had prior to this posting.

"Then there is Lauren," the Starfleet officer continued. "She underwent the same illegal procedure as a child as Patrick, and again there were some unexpected side effects, in this case in the way she perceives interpersonal relationships and a hormonal imbalance that awakened her libido at a very young age. She's not a direct danger to anyone, but in the past she did attempt to seduce several men, which caused a lot of problems as they were all married."

Dr. Loews had obviously seen the look of confusion on my face as she elaborated.

"She was sent here because she started trying to seduce married men when she was only 6 years old," she clarified.

Ah, now that I could see being a problem, especially at such a young age. If the Federation was just a little more compassionate or smart, they'd have brought her to Risa to be helped by Risian physicians. They had a much more permissive society that would have provided her an outlet for those feelings. The question, though, was why on Earth was she still institutionalized? A hypersexual adult woman seducing men, married or otherwise, was not illegal nor something she should still be hospitalized for. Again, I had a suspicion that prejudice was at work here again.

"The other two, Jack and Sarina, both underwent the same accelerated critical neural pathway formation enhancement, but have much more serious problems as a result," I was told. "Jack is unpredictable and highly volatile emotionally, and can be violent at times. Although he's never actually killed anyone, he has injured several people on the staff. Even when he's injured people deliberately, it was never truly out of malicious intent though."

Since I had already heard about and seen these characters in action on the show Star Trek: Deep Space Nine I knew a little about all of them, but it was good to hear things directly from her as even my memory wasn't perfect and this wasn't a TV show. Reality could be different than fiction, as I'd found out the hard way several times so far.

"Now, Sarina, on the other hand, is totally harmless, but her enhancements left her unable to interact with anyone or to take care of herself. The doctors who did her enhancements were not the most skilled or familiar with human genetics and made a real mess of things as a result. To put things simply, she can't process the information collected by her senses. Although she can carry out some basic tasks, she's essentially cut off from her surroundings."

Now that we were about to enter the building that housed my fellow augmented humans I felt distinctly nervous. Not about meeting Patrick, Jack, Lauren and Sarina, as I could handle them, at least I hoped I could. No, what really worried me was the idea of potentially not being allowed to leave this place afterwards, which was probably the reason why I was still carrying my sidearm and combat knife on my person.

This was probably an entirely irrational fear. If Karen Loews, or anyone else, for that matter, wanted to lock me up for being an Augment, they'd have done it already, probably at phaser point and certainly long before I'd gotten my hands on a ship of my own. Plus, they wouldn't really need to resort to the subterfuge of luring me here under the guise of helping other augments as they could have just beamed me here whenever they wanted.

With that in mind I figured I would spend an hour or so with Loews's patients, get to know them a little, and see if they reacted to me in a way the hospital personnel thought was healthy and helpful to their treatment.

While thinking about that I also closely watched Loews as she placed her palm on a nearby security panel and then typed in a password once her biometric profile was accepted. The security here was high, but it wouldn't stop a determined Augment like me, or even four damaged augments. Perhaps it wasn't truly meant to; there could be other deranged people here after all. Federation medical knowledge and technology was good, but they hadn't cured all mental illnesses, so there could be regular humans here who were ultimately much more dangerous to the public than the augments I was here to see.

"This way," Loews instructed as the door opened.

She led me down a clean and empty hallway and then through a set of heavy oak doors, and I couldn't help but notice that while not all the doors were locked a few at least needed a biometric scan and number code in order to open. That made the atmosphere inside the building seem oppressive. Loews might have grown to like it here, but she was free to come and go as she pleased, and she seemed utterly oblivious to my growing discomfort.

Next we walked up a flight of stairs and along a gallery that overlooked a recreational space. There we stopped for a moment so that I could look down on some of the patients/inmates. A few were seated alone, while others sat in small groups; the noise of their activities and talk seemed normal enough. When I examined these people more closely I saw that they were playing games, watching videos on computer padds, or just chatting amicably with each other, not unlike a room full of children would when hanging out.

I did not have empathic powers like Deanna Troi, but my senses and ability to take in and process information was super human, so when I studied the people here I found no signs of abuse, such as bruises or marks on their arms from physical confinement that would show that they had been long restrained. In fact, it all seemed terribly normal, with not a single sign of some enhanced ability in the way they were playing their games, moving physically, or interacting with the technology they were allowed, that transcended baseline human norms.

"None of the people here are genetically enhanced," I said with conviction, my eyes still sweeping the room, zooming in here and there as needed for a closer look.

I wasn't sure how I knew that. The feeling was not just from what I could see, but in my gut somehow.

"No, these patients have more natural problems and conditions, ones that we haven't been able to cure yet," I was told, Dr. Loews looking impressed that I was correct. "Unfortunately, most of them will be here for the rest of their lives without some major breakthrough being made."

Now I understood why there were two buildings. The old house was for people with a good chance of recovery. This building was meant to be the prison for the lifelong residents with little to no hope of being returned to society, I thought rather uncharitably.

Loews then guided me to a room, which wasn't locked or guarded, but I got the impression that it often was.

"Ready?" she asked me.

I wasn't, as I really didn't know what to expect.

"As I'll ever be," I said.

She walked right in, but I hung back, politely waiting to be invited inside. However, it was Loews who gestured for me to enter, not the room's occupants. Perhaps they didn't feel they had any modicum of ownership or control of their own space in this place, despite how well lived in it looked. Now that, was rather disquieting.

The room was larger than I had expected. Within it there was a table, some empty shelves which looked like they'd been recently cleared, but no beds, so I assumed that this was a day space. I really, really hoped that this wasn't the place where the augments hung out and interacted with each other. It was depressing as fuck, with no windows. Hopefully it was meant for unusual meetings with new people, like me.

In the middle, somehow dominating the space, was a large divan on which a very attractive woman lounged decadently. This was Lauren, it had to be. She looked relaxed, much like a lioness would while resting between hunts, looking so sure of herself, like she had limitless confidence. And like so many of the women in this time, she looked younger, fitter, and better looking than her actress counterpart had been on the show. Without seeing her move it was hard to tell if she'd had any physical upgrades, but somehow I suspected that she had. In fact, I could see the ancillary genetic engineering at work in the sense that she was far more attractive than could be considered strictly normal.

I didn't need introductions to identify each of the 'inmates', but I was given them anyway, and soon after they were done I felt as if I was now a patient being examined.

"He doesn't like it here," said Patrick in that child-like voice right out of the show. "He doesn't like the Institute…and we are making him uncomfortable!"

Given that I was doing my level best to keep my expression strictly neutral I wondered how he'd figured that out. Perhaps it was something in the way I stood that made it look as if I was ready to bolt at a moment's notice, some unconscious tensing of the muscles as if combat could break out at any moment and I'd need to affect an escape.

"He's worried that he's going to be made to stay, forced to stay," Lauren practically purred, a sinful looking smile on her face, looking particularly sexy, her gaze locked on mine with a laser-like intensity. Her eyes dipped down below my belt, possibly to check out my package? "He's carrying weapons to ensure that he can't be forced."

Fuck, well, there was no point denying it now. Well, they were insightful if nothing else.

"Yes, the thought had crossed my mind. And I have licenses which allow me to carry weapons on Federation worlds, concealed or otherwise, and at no time was I told or saw any notices that I could not carry weapons in this hospital," I responded. "That's on them, my dear," I challenged.

Her smirk in return was downright pornographic. Now she was definitely checking out my cock.

Have to admit, I was wondering if I could tame that proud lioness with my superior geneticallyenhanced cock, if I could break that augmented hypersexual woman's pussy and make her beg for more, to ruin her for anyone else. I doubted there were many others who would be able to keep up with her after all. The slightly wicked look that entered her eyes and her lips lifting a minute amount made me wonder if she had deduced what I was thinking. We were two sexual predators eyeing each other up and finding that we liked what we saw. How I wanted to put her ankles up by her ears and pound that pussy. Would she be better than any of the sexual predators I'd slept with in this new life? Would her pussy be as exceptional and exquisite as her genetically enhanced intelligence? I really wanted to know.

"He doesn't want to be with us. He wants to be back in the world, living like them," Jack stated in that fast-talking manner, just like in the show. "He doesn't want to be with the clever people, hmm, hmm."

I wasn't sure how clever they could actually be if they weren't able to fool people into thinking that they were completely harmless. They were not very sociable either, but that might be a result of spending so much of their lives here with only a few people to regularly interact with. It was a wonder that they didn't seem to hate the society and people that practically imprisoned them here for the choices that their parents had made for them.

Sarina just stood over by the wall, giving no indication as to whether she understood anything that was going on. She was sexy too, but somehow I didn't feel drawn to her like I was Lauren. Maybe it was the overly innocent vibe she was putting out that was turning me off, or at least dampening my interest. As for Karen Loews, she seemed unable or unwilling to join the conversation, obviously unsure whether to intervene or not. I got the sense that they rarely chose to interact with a stranger as much as they were me.

"So why did your parents have you enhanced, hmm, hmm? Too dumb? Too slow? Too weak? Couldn't keep up with the smart kids?" Asked Jack as he circled me multiple times, closely examining me from every angle with sharp eyes, likely taking in a ridiculous amount of information that I was unconsciously giving out in my body language and micro expressions as he sought to elicit an emotional reaction with his childish insults. "No, no, they didn't do this to you, hmm, hmm. And not as a child."

Unless he'd read the file Starfleet had on me, he shouldn't have known that and certainly shouldn't have seemingly been able to figure that out just by freaking looking at me. It was unnerving, to say the least. I was the full genetically enhanced package, but I was still new to this life. Jack and his cohort here had had these abilities since they were very young children.

Was this the difference experience could grant? Was I unconsciously being limited by the thinking and limitations of my old life and experience?

XXXXX

Location Classified.

"This is unexpected, Agent T'Maz. You're not one for unscheduled communications," Agent Sloan said stoically, through the viewscreen, a nondescript office in the background that could have been practically anywhere in the Federation. There was literally not a single thing in view that personalized the room or gave a hint as to where it might be.

"I understand, sir, but I need to add additional information to my debriefing," T'Maz reported calmly, from what looked like an apartment on Earth.

A single eyebrow raised, but Sloan's eyes went somewhere else for a moment.

"Your debriefing ended 17.6 minutes ago. Why wasn't this information given then?" Sloan asked.

"I could not disclose it at that time; the debriefer did not possess sufficient security clearance," she answered.

"I see. Go ahead."

"Operative Gothic and I falsified our recent mission report," she began before relating the full truth of the mission, including Gothic's thoughts on how dangerous it would be to keep the device.

"I see," Sloan responded after a few moments. "Since you agreed to this course of action, can I correctly assume that you agreed with the merits of this plan rather than being threatened into going along with it?"

"I did, sir. I was not coerced into it," she answered immediately. "Captain Gothic is an extremely skilled, pragmatic, and imminently logical operative, at least when he sees the need for it. I believe he was correct, that we cannot adequately protect the device given the Collectors seeming ability to detect when the device is used. Furthermore, the secrecy required to hide our true purpose would make adequately securing the device from even our 'local' adversaries near impossible."

Sloan leaned back in his chair, his face calm and stoic as always. "I happen to agree," he said after several long pregnant moments. "Our best analyses suggested keeping the device presented too great a risk going forward given this new threat. If that's all, Agent T'Maz, you're dismissed; I have a great deal of work."

A look of what would be indecision on a human appeared on T'Maz's face.

"Sir, I do not understand Section 31's interest in Captain Gothic. He is an impressive individual, yes, with a level of genetic enhancement that is unique in the modern day and possessing a unique and valuable perspective given his extradimensional origins, but we are expending significant resources on his recruitment. To my knowledge we have never allowed a freelance operative arrangement like this."

Sloan merely studied T'Maz stonily, for several long moments.

"Are you sure you want to know? There are some truths that are better off not known, and once they're known, well, you may wish you didn't," Sloan asked. T'Maz merely nodded.

Reaching out of frame to tap a control, a transporter beam grabbed T'Maz from her apartment and brought her to Sloan's office.

"This conversation is too sensitive to be had over comms," Sloan explained. "Computer secure the room. Take a seat."

With that command a noticeable hum filled the air and the most advanced counterintelligence measures available to the Federation were activated.

"I am temporarily increasing your security clearance in order to answer your question," Sloan said before leaning back in his chair. "You're familiar with the temporal cold war, turned real war, that was being waged across time itself?"

T'Maz merely nodded.

"Archer's Enterprise and your ancestor were neck deep in it. Seven million people died when the Xindi attacked Earth, based on the urgings of an extradimensional race who meddled with time itself because they didn't like the outcome in the 26th century. Isolate that fact in your mind from everything else, just for simplicity's sake, even though we're talking about a subject that is anything but simple. Give it some serious consideration that seven million people died that day that were not supposed to. One of the most fundamental lessons of temporal mechanics is about the dangers of how even tiny, seemingly insignificant changes can have devastating ripple effects on the timeline in the long-term. What, do you think, are the ripple effects of 7 million lives cut short in the short- to mid- to long-term? How many children's children's children etcetera won't be born going forward for many thousands and tens of thousands of years, people who won't live the lives they were supposed, do and accomplish the things they were supposed to. It boggles the very mind. What are the larger implications of all this, do you think?"

"I don't know, sir," T'Maz answered earnestly. Her scientific discipline had nothing to do with the study of temporal mechanics after all.

"The Federation and Section 31 didn't know either. We still don't know two centuries later, but we have studied and studied the question over the past two hundred years and we have some well-founded suspicions that I'll share with you, Agent T'Maz," Sloan said, pausing now that they were at the heart of the matter. "What even those people in the know don't necessarily know, or maybe even want to acknowledge, is that we, us, this timeline, were never meant to exist!"

"Sir?" T'Maz asked, hoping for a clarification.

"We are not the prime timeline, the natural one, the one that existed prior to interference from players in the future. We suspect it's still there, going on as it was meant to. We, on other hand, are an aberration, something that was never meant to exist, but we exist as well. We know alternate dimensions exist, Captain Gothic is a native of one of those true alternate dimensions, most likely a natural one, not one created due to unnatural interference like ours. We do not have the scientific understanding yet to understand the intricacies involved, but our best guess, and that's what it is, a guess, is that our dimension is a branching timeline, or an alternate universe, a universe that was created due to a significant enough temporal incursion."

A single raised eyebrow was T'Maz's response.

"Aside from the existential horror of it all, there are benefits to not being the prime timeline. You are familiar with the temporal agent who interacted with Captain Archer and is featured in some of the captain's most interesting mission reports, correct?" Sloan asked.

"Agent Daniels, I believe, a temporal agent from the 31st century," T'Maz answered.

"As we are not the prime timeline, the rules, the so-called Temporal Accords, are quite a bit more relaxed we've learned. Our timeline only exists because of temporal incursions and interference, so we're a bit of a gray area in the Accords," Sloan explained, a small smile on his lips. "Daniels has met with me, and a few of my predecessors, on a few occasions, sometimes tasking us and Section 31 with a mission. The last time I met with him, he gave me some advice, coincidentally when we were strongly contemplating aggressive action against Captain Gothic. He said, 'One man can summon the future.' He advised us to abandon those plans, to get close to Captain Gothic, as it would be to our great benefit in the years and centuries to come."

"That is a Vulcan saying."

"It is, and one we've long known to be true," Sloan agreed. "Section 31 has long recognized that there are certain nexus individuals, for good or bad, people whose lives and actions can shape the future itself, people like Cochran, Archer, Kirk, Spock, and Picard, etcetera."

"You believe Captain Gothic is one of these so-called nexus individuals?" T'Maz asked, sounding incredulous. "Furthermore, do you believe Daniels?"

"Daniels has done well by us in the past," Sloan answered with a laugh, but not answering her first question. "Gothic's assistance in repelling the Collectors and his perspective on the dangers of keeping the device have already been a great help to us. I suspect that will continue in the years to come."

"What is my mission with regard to Captain Gothic?"

"I have a long-term solo mission in mind for him that I think will appeal to him, but after that mission is complete, you will be assigned to work together. We must keep him close, the future may very well depend on it."

XXXXX

I soon discovered that talking with my fellow genetically enhanced humans was like playing several high-level games of three-dimensional speed chess at the same time, but at a speed most people played professional table tennis.

The conversation bounced around randomly, topic to disparate unrelated topic, and sometimes I felt as if I was being attacked from all directions. The randomness of their questions, I suspected, was to hide the fact that they were, in essence, trying to create a pretty comprehensive psychographic profile of me on the fly, each answer giving them another datapoint to analyze the whole. Maybe that was their way of getting to know a fellow Augment. Dr. Loews had given them some information about me ahead of time, like my level of genetic enhancements, but not my extradimensional or temporal origins. They likely had spotted the loose threads in my backstory and found it lacking for multiple reasons that didn't make sense to them, but were eager to pull on them to see what was revealed.

This interrogation/conversation was challenging and kept me on my toes, but once I had gotten used to the back-and-forth rhythm and chaos of it all, Loews faded into the background, and I came to enjoy talking with them at such a high level of thought and depth of context. I suspected an outsider and non-Augment would have missed the multiple hidden meanings and subtle nuances we were conversing in. Even the speed of our speech was far faster than normal, like we were trying to squeeze more information into each second of time, being hindered by the limitations of spoken language.

Sarina may have been listening or perhaps just looking in my direction without even knowing I was here, but she definitely looked in my direction. I couldn't tell which was the case. Hopefully I'd run into her when Bashir did his thing and cured her in a few years' time.

We had to skip current events in our warp speed conversation, such as the Cardassian/Federation war or the brewing Klingon civil war that dominated the Federation's news cycle for a while now, as these four didn't get to see the news, so we discussed things more personal.

"So, what do you do?" Jack was now asking me.

That wasn't something I could answer truthfully, at least not totally.

"I used to work in a library, sorting through old books," I told him. "But I now own and operate my own ship, transporting people and cargo to make ends meet. I'm also an amateur inventor and holoprogram author."

In truth I was many things besides a taxi for people and cargo, including a spy, a mercenary, a special forces operative, a soldier, a killer, etc., but I couldn't exactly come out and say any of that.

"You don't seem sure about that," said Patrick. "You look unsure. You sound unsure."

I hadn't truly lied, but I had withheld a lot of information and somehow they'd picked up on that.

"Why is that?" asked Lauren curiously.

I came up with a truthful answer of sorts.

"I want to travel, see the galaxy, sleep with beautiful alien women, and have adventures and get rich while doing it," I admitted, sending a wink at Lauren when I mentioned sleeping with beautiful alien women. She had to cover her mouth to silence her laughter. "At one point I considered even joining Starfleet to find that adventure out in deep space, but my career options are somewhat limited by law I learned, and life on Earth is a bit dull for me, which is why I ultimately left."

Jack looked annoyed with Lauren's interest in me, considering he was harboring a very obvious crush on her, but something I had unconsciously divulged had obviously helped him reach a realization. The sudden widening of his eyes was making me nervous, like he was putting together puzzle pieces but had no idea what the final product was supposed to look like, yet had somehow completed the entire border through sheer grit and determination.

"Archaic phraseology, word choice, and idioms, accent inconsistent with childhood in former United States territory, yet undoubtedly born on Earth, hmm, hmm," he spoke quietly to himself, but all of us were listening. "Abnormal interest in the accumulation of wealth for a human born on a Federation core world. Genetic enhancements to a level not seen since the Eugenics Wars, stable enhancements, no unexpected or unwanted adverse effects apparent, performed as an adult, beyond Federation and peer civilization medical science, hmm, hmm. No visible prejudice to augments, lack of familiarity with genetic manipulation laws."

"A Eugenics War-era Augment?" Lauren asked, sending me a wink. "Cryostasis?"

Good lord.

"Hmm, hmm, possible, but unlikely, the Federation and Starfleet would not have allowed him to meet with us. Jail, confinement, isolation instead. Enhancements during that time were performed in early cellular development and/or through careful selective breeding," Jack responded. "Lack of familiarity with subtle aspects of modern Earth and Federation culture and norms, hmm, hmm."

Say nothing, Gothic!

"Beyond genius-level intellect, doctoral level knowledge in numerous subjects related to space exploration, yet lacking familiarity in commonly understood subjects, likely extensive study to catch up to modern standards, but some things can only be learned by being raised in a culture or full long-term immersion," Lauren purred, turning over on her divan and running her hands over her full figure to draw my eyes. "Grew up on a pre-warp Earth?"

"Time traveler?" Patrick asked in his child-like voice, watching me closely, though who he was talking to was unknown.

"Hmm, hmm, mid-20th to 21st century Earth, most likely," Jack responded.

"But not our Earth," Lauren continued, examining me intensely, probably looking for any micro expressions that would confirm her belief.

"Dimensional traveler?" Patrick asked aloud.

Fuck me!

"Consistent, hmm, hmm," Jack answered. "The medical knowledge and technology required to safely and successfully genetically enhance a human to this level as an adult, hmm, hmm, dimensional travel from alternate Earth. Possibly type 2 or 3 civilization on Kardashev scale, or beyond. Organians, Q Continuum."

Motherfucker... Sigh.

"You're far from home, aren't you, handsome?" Lauren asked, a bit of sympathy in her tone now, instantly grasping how alien this time felt to me, how lonely that could be, and how I most likely could never go back.

Was there any point in denying it? Technically, while I had been encouraged to not share my true origins, I hadn't actually been prohibited from doing so. At the moment, even these realizations that a God-like being like the Q might have played a role in my displacement wasn't too damaging. Section 31 could have easily worked that out on their own.

"I am, but I don't know how I ended up in this time or dimension. That is all I want to say about that," I responded firmly, looking each one in the eyes to convey my seriousness. It had the benefit of being the truth. "I'm new to this life on many levels, but I did want to meet my fellow genetically enhanced. I'm curious to learn how you feel about the Federation's treatment of genetically enhanced people. For example, the Federation's restrictions on what jobs and careers we can have."

This was a hard question for them to answer, beyond genius-level intellects they may have, they obviously had little to no experience outside the Institute, or living on Earth freely amongst its people, or ever even attempting to get a job, much less a career. They, instead, probably reasonably, focused on the law, rattling off a list of things that I wasn't allowed to do under Federation law as an Augment. My research meant that I knew most of this already, though there were a few things here and there that I hadn't considered or were part of archaic laws that were still on the books, but could, in theory, still be used against me. I found myself examining their Spartan accommodations at some point. I quickly wondered how they managed to stop themselves from going completely fucking crazy... well crazier, due to sheer boredom. I hoped, again, that this wasn't their normal space.

As best as I could tell they had no computer access, no screens for something like TV or its equivalent, no holo-games. It was just so dull and depressing. For people who had beyond genius level intellects, it was probably torture for them. I know it would be for me.

"What do you guys do all day?" I asked, getting rather uncomfortable with their living situation.

That question seemed to upset them.

"We're not locked in here, you know," Jack replied defensively.

"We're allowed onto the grounds," Patrick insisted.

"Sometimes we go out," Lauren said.

"Not today, though," Jack added.

"It's raining today," Patrick remarked.

My hair and clothing had gotten slightly wet so that must have tipped them off about the rain outside. The weather outside otherwise couldn't be seen or heard from in here.

"They couldn't keep us in here," said Lauren quietly, obviously able to discern my feelings a bit better than the others. "Not if we really wanted to leave."

It certainly wouldn't hold me for long. I knew the number code Loews had used as we moved through this facility and a force field could be circumvented or brought down through other means. Everything was hackable with enough knowledge, intelligence, and creativity.

"Nowhere is truly a prison, if you can escape it," Jack offered, in a voice he obviously thought made him sound wise. It was true, though.

That was when I understood why the security here wasn't truly a match for the mind and abilities of an augment. It didn't need to be because they weren't truly imprisoned here; they didn't want to leave. Or perhaps more accurately to say, they were too afraid to at this point, having spent so much of their lives here. They didn't know anything else.

"Is a place really a prison if you don't want to leave?" I uttered quietly and unconsciously, not intending them to hear, but the superior physiology of my audience meant that they had.

"What would you know about being locked away, anyway?" Jack snarked back before doing a perfectly executed backflip, for no reason at all.

XXXXX

I was distracted for a moment when the Starfleet Officer left the room, that combined with the sheer speed of the conversation meant that I had missed something.

"What was that about contraceptive implants?" I asked incredulously. How had that come up?

I had mentioned having had a girlfriend and that had somehow led to discussing children, then somehow we'd moved onto birth control. Did I not mention how chaotic and random this conversation was? Or how no topic was seemingly off limits due to societal conventions or taboos?

"They're very good!" Patrick said excitedly, though I doubted he's had an opportunity to test their efficacy here. Somehow, I suspected that Lauren was not banging any of these guys either, even if they were the only fishes in this extremely small pond. I strongly suspected her standards wouldn't allow it, no matter how enhanced her libido was. "They are more effective than injections, with some risks of side effect even if the initial operation is successful, which it was, we're all fine, thank you for asking. It's preferred by less than 10% of the human population, though, since fertility is lowered even if the implant gets taken out later on."

The condom was totally obsolete in this era, which made me happy as I'd never liked the damn things. All the STDs from my time, like HIV and AIDS, had been both cured and wiped out, or wiped out then cured, by this time as well.

"So, if you're planning to have a baby, you'd be better off with the injections," Patrick advised faux sagely. "Are you having a baby? Can we come and see it?"

I wasn't, but it was something to consider for the future. I was aging slower than normal humans and with my aggressive immune system and the advanced medical care that they had available in the Federation I could be sexually active for a century or two to come, maybe more. Which meant I might want to start a family one day.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jack snapped. "The creation of genetically enhanced individuals through breeding or resequencing is illegal under Federation law. He couldn't have a baby even if he wanted to."

When studying the laws and history of augments I'd not paid much attention to issues of reproduction, now I was rather wishing I had.

"Oh, honey, that's a problem, isn't it?" Lauren said.

It was now, though given my extradimensional origins it could be argued that I wasn't truly subject to those laws in the first place. I hadn't really sought to rock the boat on this issue as it wasn't truly worth it and I was able to do pretty much everything I really wanted to, but this issue might be worth taking up that fight.

"I take the injections," I told the group, specifically the ones that Dr. Crusher had developed to stop my aggressive fertility. "So there are no long-term fertility issues. I'm just wondering about the legal ramifications down the road if I ever decide to start a family."

That information was soon supplied.

"Imprisonment!" Jack proclaimed. "Steep fines! Public humiliation and disgrace!"

Those were bad things indeed. Although I didn't know how I'd be fined since no one Earth used real money. I figured that they could take my Federation credits, but they weren't really worth anything to me since I got the things I really wanted from Section 31 or from other groups like the Ferengi.

"You don't know that," Lauren argued. "There hasn't even been a case to test that law's continued validity in over 80 years."

Again, the conversation moved fast.

"Of course not!" Jack replied. "Everyone lies about the resequencing, and everyone who doesn't lie about it is whisked off here and neutered for the convenience of ordinary people and their ordinary society!"

Lauren rolled her eyes, obviously having heard this argument many times before.

"You make it sound like a conspiracy," she said. "But then, you always do."

I had to ask.

"So, you guys have the implant?"

Everyone other than Sarina nodded.

"They nagged," Jack said. "Oh God, the nagging!"

"I agreed," Lauren said with a shrug and a wink at me. "At twelve, who wants a baby?"

Given that she'd been trying to seduce men at the age of 6, perhaps in her case it was a good thing that she didn't have a choice when it came to baby making, at least at that point. It became far more murky a proposition now to prevent her from exercising her most basic and fundamental right to have a baby of her own. She was an adult woman after all. Even in my time those with Downs Syndrome were allowed to have children, just like anyone else.

"I was fifteen," Patrick said, "but I didn't want it because I like babies. They're cute. But they're a lot of work, and very messy, so I wouldn't be able to handle one I was told." Patrick's child-like voice trailed off, sounding almost wistful now.

He was, after all, akin to a big toddler, despite being the oldest in the room (kind of), so it was hardly surprising that he'd have been encouraged to do that.

"I hate babies," Jack declared in a disgusted tone. "Smelly, noisy, illogical creatures. But it was the principle of the thing! They weren't looking out for my best interests when they recommended it; they were frightened, plain and simple. Still, I let them have their way, in the end. Choose your battles and all that, hmm, hmm."

Jack probably had the right of it. Fear had probably been part of it, but they could hardly breed an army of augments between them, so I doubted fear had been the main issue. Prejudice, though, was far more likely.

"Lauren?" I called aloud to get her attention. "What about now? Would you want the implant taken out?"

I quickly got an answer.

"With my vibrant personality?" Lauren said. "They'd never let me out of the room if they thought that that was a risk. It's better this way, though maybe if I found the right man, who could keep up with me, tame me, then maybe it'd be worth the fight."

Well, that was an intriguing response, especially with the way she was eye fucking me and subtly licking her lips.

Jack wasn't so calm about this issue. Being so incensed, thankfully, he missed the little byplay between Lauren and myself.

"This isn't about him, though, now is it? It's the creation of a whole new person. Now, he may be content to toe the line, to aim for mediocrity and let his mind diminish, but who's to say what the child will do? That's what they truly fear!" Jack was arguing. "Maybe it will strive for excellence. Maybe it will lust for conquest, like Khan Singh! Superior ability breeds superior ambition!"

Jack relaxed a little.

"But don't worry," he said to me. "Any major side effects such as acute megalomania would have been evident in the first generation. Felt like conquering any worlds lately, hmm, hmm?"

I had, but I didn't feel it prudent to confirm that in this setting. I was near certain that our entire conversation was being recorded and would be reviewed and studied by several Federation organizations.

"Come with me," Karen Loews said when she returned to the room a while later, once the conversation had wound down a bit and I had made my farewells.

XXXXX

After giving my goodbyes to the group, I allowed myself to be led from the room and down yet another set of corridors. As we walked I asked the Starfleet Officer several questions about things that were bothering me.

"Why don't they have access to any of the news stations or any form of entertainment commonly available to any Federation citizen for that matter?" I asked Loews during a lull in our conversation.

She didn't look happy talking about that, almost shameful, but to her credit she did answer my question.

"The head of the Institute thinks it might be dangerous," she said lamely, clearly conveying how she felt about such a decision.

I'd not expected to hear that.

"How so?" I asked.

Again, it was crystal clear that the woman was uncomfortable talking about this, but to her credit, she still did.

"He feels that knowing about current affairs might...overstimulate them," she relayed. "I have expressed my strong disagreement with that policy, but my concerns that that their intellectual needs aren't being met, have been met with derision. I also don't think it's prudent to keep them separate from the rest of the population all the time."

This was worrying.

"Am I understanding this correctly, are you saying that the only intellectual stimulation they get, or any contact with others really, is from interacting with each other and you? Not even the other patients?" I asked, my disgust with such a possibility apparent. "For people with their enhanced minds and intelligence that seems akin to torture, Dr. Loews. I thought you people were all enlightened and beyond petty prejudices," I stated, a bit horrified at my fears being confirmed.

Loews didn't reply, instead she led me into a small, utilitarian office and then sat down behind a desk. The austere office itself was a pretty clear indication to me that she wasn't the ultimate authority in this place, nor even that high up in the hierarchy yet.

"I was listening in on your conversation," she said. "They've never spoken to anyone as much or as freely as they did with you. I'm hoping you'll come back again soon. Perhaps we can book something on a regular basis, getting to talk with you even on a monthly basis could do them some real good. You're a genetically enhanced person who lives a normal life, that could be inspiring for them."

"Why inspire them in that way if they wouldn't be let go anyway? Lauren, for example, was seemingly institutionalized for being hypersexual at age 6. Ok, kind of extreme to institutionalize her for that for years on end, but I can somewhat understand it while she's still so young. The problem is is that she's a fucking adult woman now and has every right to be hypersexual and sleep with any consensual partner she wants! That's the right of every adult citizen in the Federation. Why hasn't she been allowed to leave this place?" I asked seriously. "By your own words, she's not violent or a risk to others."

Loews looked down at her desk at that, obviously not sure how to respond, but now looking thoughtful. That was a partial victory in my mind.

"Patrick and Sarina, too, is no threat to anyone. Even if they might require care and help to live a normal life, they probably don't need to live at this institution full time or be barred from interacting with the other patients. And Jack, seems to have some sense of the law. If he breaks it, then jail him, like any other person. Keep in mind, in a way, they're being punished for choices that they themselves didn't make. This was done to them, not by them. It was not their choice. At a certain point the only explanation for how they've been treated is plain old-fashioned prejudice leftover from the Eugenics Wars."

Lowes remained silent, cringing at my words at various points.

Her suggestion did have merit, though. I could visit them, but somehow I doubted them knowing I existed would change their situation all that much, but on the other hand it might at least give them something to do one day out of the month.

"Sure," I answered once it became clear that no answer was soon forthcoming from the doctor. She needed some time to ruminate on the failings of Earth and the Federation. The Federation Kool-Aid was some strong shit, something she'd drunk her whole life, and this single conversation wasn't going to open her eyes too much. "But I am frequently off Earth so I can't promise to visit regularly or on a set schedule. All I can promise is that when I'm here, I'll make an effort to visit."

Loews nodded and I decided it was time for me to leave, but first I had to do something.

XXXXX

Having an eidetic memory meant traveling to and from places was rather easy. Just retrace your steps. So, it was pretty easy for me to find myself outside back outside the room my fellow augments congregated on a regular basis.

It was a bit of a surprise, though, when I spotted Lauren leaning up against the wall a few dozen feet outside their room, one knee bent and her leg up with the bottom of her foot pressed against the wall, looking oh so relaxed. The position she was in caused her skirt to ride up showing a delicious amount of toned thigh, hinting at everything but concealing everything. And, of course, her bountiful chest was thrust out with her eyes closed. Could you call yourself a genetically enhanced woman without a set of rocking, gravity defying, perky as hell tits?

"Well, this can't have been a coincidence. How did you even get out of a locked room?" I asked, a smile on my face and in voice.

"This place wasn't designed for people like us, Gothic," she purred back, not even bothering to open her eyes. "And I knew you'd be back for me; I could tell you wanted to pounce on me like a lion. And to be honest, I wanted you to."

With a raised eyebrow, I approached, stepping into her personal space, my left hand pressing against the wall by the side of her head, the other going between her legs, my wrist digging into her pussy. Her only reaction was her smile getting wider. With my arm between her legs, I effortlessly lifted her up to my eye level, like she weighed nothing, sniffing heavily at her throat like an animal. She did smell delicious. My show of Augment-level strength was seemingly a turn on for her, another display that I was quite unlike baseline humanity.

"Is this the kind of pouncing you envisioned?" I asked, my voice rough, like a growl.

"No, Gothic, I envisioned something far more fun," she purred back, before threading her fingers in my hair and pulling me in for a deep kiss. We kissed long and hard like that, our hands exploring each other's perfect bodies.

Stopping for a moment, she finally looked into my eyes, her breath rough.

"Dr. Loews shared some of your story with me; how you ended up here."

"Ah, found out how much of a precocious vixen I was, did you?" she laughed.

"It was one thing when you were six, it's quite another that you're still here as an adult. You're an adult woman, free to sleep with whomever you want. If you ever truly wanted out of here, I would help you. I can hire and pay for a lawyer to argue for your release. I have contacts with some very influential people in the Federation and Starfleet that could expedite things. I have a ship of my own that can take you far from Earth and their prejudices. Want to become part of my crew and see the galaxy?"

"Would I be free to sleep with you whenever, handsome?" she asked, running kisses up my neck now, before somehow turning us around and pressing me up against the wall with strength beyond baseline human norms. If I wanted to I could have easily broken her grip, but I was rather enjoying the turnaround for once.

"Absolutely, my vixen, though you may have to share. Somehow, I think you might like playing with the other beautiful women who warm my bed," I answered honestly. "You're going to be hard pressed to find someone who can keep up with you and keep you satisfied."

"That sounds lovely," she said, her eyes lit up in excitement, not phased at all by the idea that I'd be sleeping with other women. Her mood turned somber moments later, before audibly sighing. "This place is all I've ever known, Gothic. I can barely remember my life before here. Patrick and Sarina, even Jack, are my family. I'm not ready to leave them, but I might take you up on your offer one day, if its open ended?"

"It is. Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" I asked.

"Maybe," she smirked wickedly, before once again devouring my lips. This time, though, she reached into my pants to stroke my cock from balls to tip. I guess she wanted to sample the goods. She was ferocious in her passions, single minded in her lust in a way that very nearly overwhelmed me. Those thoughts were set aside as she slowly lowered herself gracefully to her knees in front of me and fished my rock-hard cock out of my pants.

"You really are genetically enhanced all over, aren't you," she laughed, before she opened her mouth and succeeded in stuffing my cock fully down her throat in one single movement.

I let out an unwilling grunt in surprise at the feeling of being deep throated so fucking suddenly before my hands found themselves fisted in her hair. Her head continued to bob up and down, her tongue swirling at an almost inhuman speed with a level of suction that felt amazingly unreal. A line from the 90s movie 'True Lies' was inexplicably pulled to the front of my thoughts, 'You get their pilot lit, they could suck start a leaf blower.' That was definitely true for Lauren.

Soon enough it was more like I was fucking her face than her blowing me, but my grip was like steel as I held her head in pace and slid my cock in and out of her mouth. She took it amazingly well, even when I gagged her, never uttering a peep of protest, in fact, the mirth and happiness in her eyes as she peered up at me was pretty clear.

Her skill and the sheer eroticism of the moment soon got the better of me and I came down her throat like a firehose. I watched as she greedily swallowed every last drop, never breaking eye contact until I was done.

Pulling off my length, she wiped her mouth and got up from her knees, threw me a grin and a wink, and walked out.

I'll freely admit, I had been shocked into confused silence and hadn't said a word as she left. The woman was like a sex panther. She hadn't even waited long enough for me to return the favor, as it were, which somehow perfectly fit my perception of her. She wanted the last word and had to make a point in her exit.

Somehow, I felt like she'd join me one day. It was only a matter of time.

XXXXX

Space Dock. Earth Orbit.

From behind a transparent and obviously reinforced metal barrier I watched several remote-controlled worker robots attach one of two external micro-torpedo launchers to the wings of the The Flighty Temptress. The launchers reminded me of an anti-air missile battery or the multi-mission launcher the Army had developed in my old world, which had all the torpedoes preloaded in separate launch tubes, like a grid. This design meant that I could fire multiple torpedoes at a time, but the number was finite and there would be no reloading on the fly as the launchers were externally mounted to the wings and would require leaving the ship to either reload or repair them.

It wasn't a starship grade launcher like on the shows; it was the smaller scale model that Starfleet runabouts used. The 'micro' part of the torpedoes didn't imply that they were smaller than normal torpedoes just that the delivery system was much smaller to account for the ship's smaller size. A larger starship used large magnetic accelerators along a long tunnel to launch their torpedoes at incredible speeds with the torpedo then using its own smaller onboard thrusters to adjust their trajectory to hit their targets.

Micro-torpedoes, on the other hand, utilized an attached micro fusion thruster for propulsion, so they couldn't be launched at such speeds, though their range was still quite high. Because a long tunnel full of magnetic accelerators wasn't needed for this torpedo type, the launchers could be mounted on a retractable swivel mount and could be fired forwards or backwards, in fact they could be fired directly at a target no matter where it was in relation to the ship, so no dedicated torpedo tubes were needed for firing in a certain direction like on a larger starship.

Still, the addition of these torpedoes would give my ship a significant increase in both firepower and options during combat, and that was what I ultimately wanted. Damn the Minosians and their design philosophy. If I had had them during my fight with those Collector fighter craft I could have done what that Bird-of-Prey had done and fired a couple of torpedoes into the middle of their formation or even at that ship holding the rift device. My ship was fast, but torpedoes were faster and had a much greater effective range than my disrupter cannons. Because these micro torpedoes required a micro fusion thruster, the explosive yield was halved, but still, it'd be a worthwhile addition to my arsenal.

"Sloan," I greeted calmly, without surprise, not even bothering to turn towards him when I saw the agent's reflection in the transparent aluminum barrier. I was expecting this meeting eventually and from the shows I knew that the man loved to show up unexpectedly for meetings. I guess everyone had their quirks. "What can I do for you?"

As ever, Sloan wore an incredibly dull suit that made him blend into the background simply by being too boring to look at for long. At least someone acted somewhat practically in this universe.

"Section 31 has another mission for you," the spy said, "and this time we won't be sending anyone to babysit you. In fact, you'll be running your own show as it were, completely on your own and independent, should you accept it."

Did the modern people on Earth even still use the term 'babysit' or was he trying to use language I'd recognize, perhaps as another way to manipulate me? Eh, whatever.

Now that sounded rather interesting, though I wouldn't have minded being paired up with T'Maz once again. There were certain very nice benefits to missions with her, I'd found.

"What's the mission?" I asked, curiously.

Sloan took me over to a nearby beverage replicator and ordered himself a black coffee before saying anything else. Even his choice in beverage was boring. No doubt he was trying to make it look as if two friends were casually meeting, in case anyone noticed us talking, so I ordered a drink as well to keep up the image he was trying to create. Sloan then led me over to a nearby table and started to explain.

"I think you'll like it, in fact, it was your suggestion in the first place. The mission is on Bajor," he told me. I had to work hard to keep my face blank. "The Strategic Task Group was enamored with your idea of supplying funds, supplies, and weapons to the Resistance to expedite the end of the war with the Cardassians. The growing instability in the Klingon Empire and the threat the Collectors pose, as you called them, to the Federation and to the galaxy at large means we can no longer afford to wait for the war to reach its natural conclusion."

My mind was running a mile a minute. Was the universe fucking with me?! Bajor? Talk about suspicious good fortune given how much I knew about the planet and its future from the show Deep Space Nine.

"Your ship is perfect for a little smuggling operation we have planned. It's fast, near impossible to see on long-range sensors, of a non-Federation design, and well-armed, at least enough to make any pirate think twice about trying to take your cargo by force."

I assumed I'd be smuggling weapons to the Bajorans, but there had to be more to this mission. They wouldn't bother wasting my talents on a simple courier mission; anybody could do that.

"The mission is to take vitally needed supplies and a large number of weapons to Bajor to place in the hands of the Resistance," I was told. "Once you're on Bajor you'll meet up with a Resistance cell and try to get them to accept you into their ranks."

Sloan stopped talking and stirred his coffee.

"We will try to connect you with a Resistance cell that we believe is more open minded than typical and has a greater chance of accepting you, but it won't be easy," he explained before taking another sip of his coffee. "They don't trust outsiders, for good reason given how the Cardassians have been raping and murdering their people for decades, but with your military training, skills, and enhanced abilities you should be able to prove your value to them," he said with a grin.

Given that a few dozen augments had once nearly taken over most of Earth back in the 1990s I could see how even a single augment would be a valuable asset to a resistance movement. T'Maz must have also really sung my praises when it came to how badass I was in combat too.

"The hard part will be getting them to invite you to join them without seeming too eager," the spy warned, before gesturing at me with his coffee cup. "We can't have the Cardassians even suspecting official Federation involvement with the Resistance, so you'll have to act like you're working independently, in fact you'll receive no further support on Bajor until the Occupation is over."

The future of the quadrant would be decided in Bajoran space, at the mouth of the wormhole. This was an amazing opportunity to be right there when it all happened, with Section 31 both approving it and tenuously supporting it.

"What is my ultimate goal for this mission and how will I make contact with the Resistance cell?" I asked.

Sloan sipped his drink for a moment before replying, looking pleased that I hadn't shot this offer down already and was actually expressing interest.

"Your primary mission objectives are to make things difficult for the Cardassians and to assist in bringing the Occupation of Bajor to a conclusion. Make it uneconomical through any and all means. Help the Bajoran Resistance succeed in their goal of driving the Cardassians off their planet. Bleed the Cardassians dry through any and all means you see fit. The removal of Bajor's resources from the Cardassian military should slow construction of new ships and assets and put pressure on the Cardassians to accept the treaty with the Federation which will grant them new worlds to explore and mine."

That certainly made sense to me. The story I'd told T'Maz about the Soviets and the Afghan people had obviously inspired some folks at Section 31. By secretly helping the Bajorans give the Cardassians a bloody nose, in time it could prove just costly enough to force them to leave the planet, which would weaken them enough to cause some major political upheaval and pressure them to seek peace with the Federation by signing a peace treaty. And that was assuming the Collectors didn't show up to change everyone's priorities.

"Using our criminal contacts, we managed to arrange things so that a few Bajoran resistance cells we already selected, who were already off-world looking to buy weapons, will be directed to arms suppliers who are actually all our agents or have unknowingly worked with us in the past. You are just one of the assets that we're sending in that way, but you'll each be working separately, with no knowledge of who else has been planted. Because you'll be out of contact for a while you'll need to make your own decisions as the mission progresses," he explained.

I could be gone for years, but perhaps only months, depending on how things went and where in the timeline I was. Given how this was an alternate Star Trek universe, I really had no idea how long I could be there.

"This isn't exactly freelance work," I pointed out, though I was pretty sure I'd taken this mission anyway.

Sloan actually smiled what looked like a genuine smile, rather than just an act he was putting on. It was barely noticeable, but that was a real smile. I was 85% sure. Sloan was one cagey motherfucker.

"Well, you could wait until I have something easier and shorter term," he offered, "but we both know that's not what you want."

Sloan then leaned towards me and spoke more softly.

"You were made for this kind of work, Gothic," he said. "I read the reports about those aliens you encountered, the ones you called the 'Collectors'. Do you think any part-time agent could have done what you did, had that kind of success, even with T'Maz's help?"

He had a point there. I did have a talent for this spy soldier/assassin stuff.

"I know you're not the biggest fan of the Federation," Sloan went on to say, surprising me in the fact that he knew that and yet didn't seem to care. It was a credit to him and his organization that its agents didn't have to drink the Kool-Aid to work for them. A healthy dose of cynicism might actually be a boon for them, now that I thought about it. "But without the Federation humanity would lose its proper place in the galaxy, and we could even end up just like the Bajorans. While its citizens and even Starfleet might be blissfully unaware of the hard realities of this galaxy, we are not."

Again, he'd made a good argument, and I found myself agreeing with him. Without the Federation and the many protections it offered, Earth and so many other member planets, would be vulnerable to the predations of the many true evils in this galaxy, much less the lesser ones like the Klingons or the Romulans.

"Do everything you can to undermine the Cardassian forces on Bajor," Sloan ordered.

I wouldn't mind killing some of the spoonheads on Bajor. Their occupation of Bajor distinctly reminded me of the actions of the Nazis, and even here on Earth we had heard about the horrors of the forced labor camps and the whole scale plundering of the planet by the Cardassians. Things like that should be fought against.

"With the amount of supplies and weapons we'll clandestinely provide the Bajoran Resistance in the coming months and years, coupled with your active support, at most you'll be done in 2-3 years, maybe only a year if we can get them enough support without the Cardassians noticing and being able to confirm our involvement," Sloan assured me. "By then all our predictive models have found that the Cardassians will have signed the treaty with the Federation and withdrawn their forces from Bajor. That will be followed by the Bajorans forming a temporary government who then invites the Federation into the system to help them rebuild and to help keep the Cardassians out. This will be followed by them eventually joining the Federation within 5 to 10 years. You can play a big role in making that happen."

And I'd be right there when the wormhole was discovered and opened, assuming I lived that long. Things would be very interesting on DS9 in the years to come. Right now, Bajor was a backwater planet in the middle of nowhere, far from anything of true importance. But after the wormhole was discovered… the future of the quadrant would be decided there and I'd be right in the middle of the action, at Section 31's request even. With my knowledge of the future, I'd have many opportunities for fun and profit. So, a fun and challenging adventure fighting evil space Nazis and the perfect positioning for the future? Yep, sign me up.

"I'll do it; but it won't be cheap," I told/warned the spy.

Sloan's smile was again brief.

"Before you leave on the mission there are some holodeck training programs I'd like you to run through to put you in the mindset of a revolutionary," he said, "but that shouldn't take long. Afterwards, I'll send you instructions on where to fly your ship so you can pick up your cargo and the Bajoran Resistance fighter who was tasked to buy weapons for their specific cell. Once you're on Bajor itself you'll be alone, so hide your ship well because we won't be able to extract you until after the withdrawal. If you need to leave the planet, you'll have to do it on your own."

The ship would be good for missions against the Cardassians, so that was another good reason to keep it in one piece.

"I'll send you additional information on the Occupation once it's fully compiled to help with your planning," Sloan told me as he stood up, "and the upgrades we promised for your ship will be done by the end of the day. I've even ordered some extra weapons for your personal armory, and a few pieces of technology that you'll find useful on Bajor."

Before I could ask more about that Sloan was already walking away and we hadn't even discussed my price. Ah well, they were good for it, and depending on the outcome I'd be able to price it better anyway. Well, it was time to get everything in order.

XXXXX

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Chapter 15: 18,963 words

Chapter 16: 15,430 words