Author's Note: I usually don't do pre-chapter author's notes, but I do give warnings in rare cases when appropriate. This chapter contains Explicit Sexual Content.
Episode 33 - Inquisitor
Stardate: 41431.4
Earth Standard Date: June 6, 2364
Location: ISS Enterprise, Outside Sol System, Interstellar space
The doors to the senior officer quarters hissed open. Tyson stepped into the dimly lit room, finding Inquisitor Deanna Troi lounging on a plush couch. Her raven hair fell across her shoulders while her dress clung to her form.
"Inquisitor Tyson," she said, rising from the couch. "What can I do for you?"
"I came to see if there were any crew who were disloyal and needed my attention."
"None yet," she replied,closing the distance between them as she spoke. She stood a mere breath away from him now.
"Picard ordered us to work closely," she reminded. The scent of exotic flowers wafted from her skin.
"Indeed, he did. Though I suspect his definition of 'closely' might differ from yours."
She laughed. "You know me so well already." Moving to a nearby table, she reached for a decanter. "Drink?"
"Please."
She poured each of them a glass of deep amber liquid. "Saurian brandy. Authentic, not replicated." After sipping and watching him over the rim, she gestured toward a pair of chairs. "You're playing a dangerous game here. Whatever your true purpose, whatever brought you to us... I want you to know something."
He tensed imperceptibly. "And what's that?"
"I find it exhilarating. This ship, this crew... they're all so predictable. Picard with his ambition. Riker, with his loyalty masking his own aspirations. LaForge with his technical genius and Barclay's social awkwardness." She waved her hand dismissively. "Boring. But you... Tell me about your universe."
"Like I said, a Federation, not an empire, we all work together toward advancement."
She laughed again. "How very un-Terran of you." Standing, she moved to a control panel on the wall. The lighting dimmed further as soft music began to play. "What about other traditions? The ones between a man and a woman?"
"Those depend entirely on the individuals involved, their species, and their unique relationships."
"And what do you desire, Tyson?" She approached again, standing directly before his chair. "You know, in my position, I could simply take what I want."
"You could try."
The threat hung between them, unspoken but clear. To his surprise, she laughed delightedly.
"Oh, I was right about you." Returning to her chair, she picked up her glass. "Most men would be either terrified or eagerly accepting by now. Your restraint is... refreshing."
"I'm glad you find it amusing."
"Not amusing. Stimulating." She sipped her drink. Troi continued, "You said you're from another universe. Tell me about me."
"The Deanna Troi I know is quite different from you."
"How so?" She tilted her head, studying him.
"She's only half-Betazoid, so she doesn't have full telepathy, only empathy, and serves as the ship's counselor, not an inquisitor. Her empathic abilities are used to help people, to understand their emotional states and assist them through trauma or difficulty. Ome similatiry is that she also doesn't wear a standard uniform, occasionally she wears a dress, nothing as eye-catching as yours though. She's kind, compassionate."
Inquisitor Troi laughed, the sound lacking the warmth he associated with the Counselor. "She sounds terribly dull."
"Not at all. She's respected, valued." He took a sip of his drink. "Her mother is a rather... eccentric ambassador named Lwaxana."
"My mother?" Something vulnerable flickered across her features before disappearing. "Is she alive in your universe?"
"Very much so. She's quite the force."
Troi stood abruptly, walking to the viewport. "My mother was executed for treason when I was fourteen. She opposed the Empire's presence in Betazoid space. My father arranged for me to be spared. He proved his loyalty by turning her in."
Tyson remained silent, recognizing the weight of that revelation.
"What happened to my father in your universe?" she asked without turning.
"He hasn't come up, but I believe he died when you were young."
She nodded slowly. "Here too. Though not from natural causes." Turning back to face him, she asked, "And this other me, this counselor... is she happy?"
"I believe so. She has purpose, a career, friends."
"Does she have a mate?"
"She and Commander Riker have a... complicated relationship. She has flieted with me a little."
She laughed again, this time with genuine amusement. "Some things transcend universes, it seems." Returning to her seat, she continued, "And what about you and her? Are you friends?"
"We're colleagues. Sure, I'd consider her a friend. I respect her."
"Nothing more?" Her eyebrow arched suggestively.
"Nothing more," he confirmed.
She studied him for a long moment. "You know, I could verify everything you're telling me. I could reach into your mind, pull out the truth."
He shrugged, unconcerned.
"But I won't." She smiled. "Not yet, anyway. Your story is too interesting to spoil with brute force." She finished her drink and set the glass down. Standing to get another round, Troi moved to the decanter, pouring the amber liquid, and showing a generous amount of cleavage.
"Instead of forcing me, I'll just tell you a story if you're interested," he offered, watching the shift of the silken fabric of her dress.
She returned with the refilled glasses, handing one to him before settling back into her chair. She gestured for him to continue, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back.
"So we were arriving at the planet Haven," he began, "and your mother came onboard, saying that you were to marry a human named Wyatt. It was an arranged marriage. Commander Riker was upset about it. You, well, that universe's version of you, didn't seem too happy about it either."
Her eyebrows rose slightly. "An arranged marriage?"
"There was a reception," he continued. "Your mother and Wyatt's mother were arguing about whether the ceremony would be a traditional Betazoid ceremony or a human one." He smiled slightly at the memory. "I said that I voted for the Betazed-style ceremony because everyone would be naked."
She laughed, and for a moment, he could see the shadow of the counselor he knew. "I would have supported that position as well," she said mischievuously.
"Your mom was happy that I sided with her," he continued, "but I threw in a few comments about how I thought arranged marriages were an antiquated practice. Throughout it all, Picard was trying to be diplomatic. Wyatt's mother wanted him to officiate the ceremony, and he seemed uncomfortable with it."
"Picard? Uncomfortable?" She smirked. "That I would pay to see."
"In the end, I convinced Deanna that she needed to stand up to her mother and get the ceremony cancelled." He finished his drink. "Which she did."
"And how did my mother take that?"
"I wasn't around for the fallout, I had another mission. From what I heard, not well initially," he admitted. "But she came around. Family bonds are strong, it seems."
"Family bonds," she repeated, suddenly distant. Standing again, she moved to the viewport. "In this Empire, family is merely a tool, a stepping stone to power or a vulnerability to be exploited. My mother's execution taught me that lesson early."
He remained silent, allowing her the moment.
"I was forced to witness it. To prove my loyalty," she continued without turning. "I was made to stand in the front row as they disintegrated her."
"I'm sorry," he said finally.
She turned, her composure hardened once more. "Don't be. It made me what I am." Returning to her seat, she continued, "And what happened after the wedding was cancelled? Did this other me find happiness with Riker?"
"Not exactly," he answered. "Their relationship has been... complicated. They care deeply for each other, but duty and circumstances have kept them apart. Now there are other hurdles."
"How tediously noble," she remarked, though without her earlier venom. "What's your story in this other universe? Who is Lieutenant Tyson there?"
"I'm relatively new to the Enterprise," he explained. "I serve as a specialist."
"That tells me nothing of importance," she chided. "Who are you to them? What do they see when they look at you?"
He considered the question. "I'm still finding my place. I have unique abilities that make me valuable, but I've started to earn their trust."
"And what are these abilities?" She leaned forward, interested.
"Various enhancements," he said vaguely. "Strength, intelligence, adaptability."
"You're being deliberately evasive."
"Yes."
She laughed again, seemingly delighted by his honesty about his dishonesty. "I appreciate that you don't insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise." She set her empty glass aside. "Tell me, in your universe, what would happen if someone like me suddenly appeared?"
"Depends on the circumstances really. You'd be questioned, but not harmed, if you weren't a threat. There have been encounters between officers of our respective universes before, so you aren't an unknown quantity."
"And if I were a threat?"
"Then you'd be contained, but still treated humanely."
She scoffed. "Weakness."
"Strength," he countered. "Only the strong can afford to show mercy to their enemies."
"An interesting perspective," she murmured. "And utterly foreign."
"Do you want to leave this universe?" Surprise flickered before her mask of control returned. She didn't answer for a long moment, instead rising and pacing slowly across the room. "You have a great position within the Empire," he continued, watching her carefully. "You're trusted by the Captain of the most powerful ship. For someone who isn't a Terran, it's about as high as you could hope to go."
She stopped with her back to him. "And if I came to your universe, would it be better for me?"
Turning to face him, genuine curiosity and hope were radiating from this version of Deanna Troi.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "You'd have freedom, certainly. No one would execute you for speaking your mind or having the wrong heritage. But you'd also have to adapt to a very different way of life."
"What would happen to me there?" She moved closer, her movements deliberate. "Would I be imprisoned? Studied? Or simply left to fend for myself in a world I don't understand?"
"You wouldn't be imprisoned unless you committed a crime," he clarified. "As for the rest... There would be questions, certainly. Interest in your experiences, your knowledge of this universe. But ultimately, you would be free."
She laughed softly, but the sound lacked her usual confidence. "Freedom. Such a dangerous concept." Returning to her seat across from him, she continued, "In this Empire, freedom is merely the illusion granted to those beneath the Terrans while they manipulate their choices."
"And is that what you want? To continue manipulating others while being manipulated yourself?"
"Be careful, Lieutenant. Even in private, such words are considered highly treasonous."
"You won't report me," he stated with certainty.
"Won't I?" She tilted her head, studying him. "What makes you so sure?"
"Because you're curious. About me, about my universe, about possibilities you've never considered before." He leaned forward. "And because deep down, you're tired of living in fear."
"I fear nothing."
"Everyone in this Empire fears something. That's how it maintains control. Even Picard fears losing his position, his power. What do you fear, Inquisitor?"
"What you're suggesting is impossible. Even if I wanted to leave, which I haven't said I do, how would we accomplish such a thing? We're trapped here, you and I both."
"I'm working on that," he admitted. "But I need to know if you'd be interested in coming with us when we find a way back."
"Us?" Her eyebrow arched.
"Ro and myself."
"Ah, your Bajoran." She nodded in understanding. "I wondered about your connection to her. It seemed... unusual."
"She's from my universe as well," he explained. "We were brought here together."
She considered this information. "And you believe you can find a way back?"
"I do."
Rising again, she moved to a small replicator in the corner of the room. "Computer, Betazoid tea, hot." The device hummed, materializing a steaming cup. She cradled it in her hands, inhaling the aroma before speaking again.
"What would I be in your universe? A curiosity? A refugee?" She sipped her tea. "The other me, this counselor, she has a place, a purpose. What would mine be?"
"Because of my abilities, I have a certain level of leniency within Starfleet," he replied. "You're intelligent, adaptable. I could convince them to let me recruit you."
"Would I be welcomed? Or feared?"
"Initially, probably both," he admitted. "But over time, you'd be judged by your actions, not your origin."
She laughed softly. "How novel." Returning to her seat, she asked, "And what about you? What is your true purpose in returning? What awaits you there?"
"I like to think there are people who depend on me, but they'd probably be fine without me."
"Family?" she asked.
"Not as such."
She studied him over the rim of her cup. "You're very careful with your answers. Always revealing just enough to seem forthcoming while concealing what truly matters."
"I could say the same about you, Inquisitor."
She smiled at that. "We're both survivors, you and I. Though in very different circumstances. If I were to consider your offer, what would you expect from me in return?"
"Loyalty of a sort," he replied. "Taking you back would require me to share my abilities. I haven't elaborated on them, but this goes beyond telepathy. You'd be agreeing to join me. Honestly, you'd be willingly binding yourself to me, permanantly."
"Betrayal, then, at best," she said flatly. "Slavery at worst."
"Self-preservation," he countered. "Ro is somewhat of an example. You've seen us interact, you've talked with me. You've even said I'm not like the Terrans. Unless you truly believe Picard's ambitions align with your best interests, more so than anything I've said."
She was silent for a long moment. "He would kill me without hesitation if he knew we were having this conversation."
"I know."
"And yet you took the risk of approaching me."
"I did."
"What if I'm comfortable in my position here and don't want to leave?"
He studied her, noting the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curled around the delicate handle of her teacup.
"In that case, you could still agree to join me," he said finally. "I'd share a portion of my power with you and you'd grow stronger."
Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Stronger? In what way?"
"The boost might be different person-to-person," he explained. "In your case, based on my observations, you'd find it far easier to seduce people, from your point of view, even through conversation, not necessarily physically. You'd see your plans coming to fruition far more often. And you'd have my protection, for whatever that's worth in this universe."
She laughed softly. "You speak of power as if it's something tangible, something you can simply hand over like a gift."
He considered his words carefully. "It's not far from what you suggest."
"And what would you gain from this arrangement?" Her suspicion was evident. "No one offers power without expecting something in return."
"An ally," he replied simply. "Someone who understands this universe better than I do. Someone who I can rely on while I work on finding a way back. I know it's a foreign concept to you, but I wouldn't have survived as long as I did without my Companions. We're stronger working together than working against each other. Consider it this way, the Federation's borders extend far into both the Alpha and Beta Quadrants and control territory larger than the Cardassians, Klingons, and Romulans, while the Terrans are confined to a single star system. That should say something to the strength of cooperation."
"And if you succeed? If you find your way back to your universe?"
"Then you'd have a choice. Stay here with your enhanced abilities, or come with us."
"Why approach me specifically? Why not Data or LaForge? You seem to have a good relationship with Barclay, why not him? They would have technical knowledge that might help you return to your universe."
"Data is already with me," he replied. "I'm not interested in LaForge or Barclay. You, on the other hand..." He paused. "You're pragmatic. You understand survival in a way the others don't."
"Because I'm not Terran," she finished for him.
"Partly," he admitted. "But also because you're observant. You see the flaws in the Empire, the cracks in its foundation. And you can sense it on a deeper level."
"And if I agreed to this arrangement, how would it work? What would this... enhancement entail?"
"You agree to join me, and you'll feel the changes almost immediately."
"And I would be connected to you," she stated, not a question.
"Yes," he confirmed. "There would be a link between us. Not telepathic exactly, but a connection."
"Could you control me through this link?"
"No, not on any level," he admitted. "I don't know if you'd be able to kill me, or betray me, maybe. But I'm not sure why you would."
"Intentions change," she countered. "Especially when survival is at stake."
"True," he conceded. "Which is why trust is essential here."
She laughed, the sound sharp and brittle. "Trust? In the Terran Empire? You truly are from another universe. What guarantees do I have that once I accept, you won't simply control me? Turn me into your puppet?"
"None," he replied honestly. "I don't have any way to prove myself to you, beyond being forthright. Just as I have no guarantee that you won't betray me to Picard the moment I leave this room if you don't agree."
"A standoff, then."
"Or the beginning of an alliance," he suggested.
"Would agreeing change who I am in any way? My personality, my memories?"
"No," he assured her. "They would enhance your abilities, not alter your identity."
"And what of my loyalty to the Empire?" she asked quietly. "Would that remain intact?"
"Your loyalties would remain your own."
She nodded slowly. "And if I agreed, when would this occur?"
"It could happen now," he replied. "The process is immediate."
She studied him with renewed interest. "You're not entirely human, are you? Beyond being half-Betazoid?"
"No," he admitted.
She set her glass down, moving closer to him. "What are you, then? Some kind of augment? A hybrid?"
"Yes. But trying to define where these abilities come from is beyond what you'd understand. I don't say that condescendingly, I don't fully understand it myself," he replied. "The details aren't important right now."
"I disagree," she countered. "If I'm to accept this... connection with you, I need to know what I'm connecting with."
He considered his options. Revealing too much could be dangerous, but without some level of disclosure, she would never agree to his proposal.
Leaning forward, he dropped his voice to a near whisper. "Here's another thing to consider. While you might not be sure if you can trust me, you've seen my restraint. I've been sandbagging since I arrived here."
"Sandbagging?" she repeated, unfamiliar with the term.
"It means I've been holding back, not using my full abilities," he explained. "Playing weaker than I actually am."
She raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident. "A bold claim. Anyone could make such a statement."
He considered her for a moment, then stood and walked to the replicator. "Computer, create a two-inch diameter steel rod, a little over a foot long, please."
The replicator hummed to life, materializing the requested item. He picked up the heavy metal rod, testing its weight in his hand. He held it up for her to see, gripping both ends firmly. Without apparent effort, he began to exert pressure, barely changing his demeanor as the metal rod slowly bent in his hands. The metal creaked and groaned as it yielded to his strength, forming a U-shape.
Her composure slipped at the display of raw physical power. Even the strongest Vulcans would struggle with such a feat.
But he wasn't finished. Relaxing his grip on the bent rod, he held out his palm beneath it. Slowly, the metal rod rose from his hand, hovering several inches above his open palm. It rotated in midair, suspended by an invisible force.
"Telekinesis," she breathed, her voice barely audible.
He maintained the levitation for several seconds before allowing the rod to settle back into his hand. "Just a small demonstration," he said casually, as though what he'd just done was commonplace.
She stood, moving closer to examine the bent metal. "Impressive party tricks," she said, though her usual dismissive tone was absent. "But strength and telekinesis alone don't explain everything you've claimed."
"They're just examples," he replied. "I have other abilities."
"And these abilities," she gestured to the bent rod, "these are what you're offering to share?"
"Not the strength, that's just me. But the telekinesis and other abilities are something I'm working on finding ways to share. It's an ongoing mission for me; admittedly, I have ideas, but nothing that's applicable yet."
She circled him slowly, her analytical mind reassessing everything she thought she knew about him. "The Empire would dissect you if they knew what you could do," she said finally. "Study you, try to replicate what you can do. Turn you into a weapon."
"I'm aware."
"Yet you reveal yourself to me. Why?"
"Because I want you as a Companion. And even if the Empire tried to capture me, it wouldn't be easy. Going all out, I could probably kill everyone on this ship first."
She stopped her pacing, facing him directly. "So how do we do this?" she asked, her decision apparently made. "Seal it with a kiss?"
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he laughed, placing the bent metal rod back into the replicator. "Computer, recycle," he instructed, watching as the metal dissolved. He turned back to her. "Is that what you want?"
She studied him carefully. "Would it be necessary?"
"No," he admitted. "You'd just have to agree, physical contact isn't necessary."
"And our... relationship?" she asked carefully. "What expectations would you have?"
"Professionally, I'd expect your discretion and cooperation while I work toward finding a way back to my universe," he replied. "Personally, that's entirely up to you. The connection doesn't create artificial loyalty or affection."
She nodded slowly, processing his words. "And if I change my mind later?"
"The connection, once established, is permanent."
"A lifetime commitment, then," she mused. "Not something to be entered into lightly."
"No," he agreed. "It isn't."
She moved to stand directly before him, searching his face. "You're asking for a great deal of trust."
"I am," he acknowledged. "And offering the same in return."
"In the Empire, trust is a luxury few can afford," she said softly. "Those who extend it rarely survive long enough to regret it."
"If anyone has the luxury of being able to afford a little trust, it's the Inquisitor on Starfleet's strongest vessel. Which we both happen to be."
Her lips curved into a small smile. Instead of agreeing verbally, she leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss. Her lips were soft but insistent, testing and exploring rather than yielding. When she finally leaned back, she studied his reaction with clinical interest.
He raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"You think I'm not going to test the waters before I agree to be with you permanently?" she asked.
"I'm not complaining."
She leaned in for another kiss, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscular shoulders, exploring the strength she had just witnessed bend solid metal. This kiss was deeper, more demanding. She pressed herself against him, her body molding to his as her hands continued their exploration. He responded in kind, one hand sliding to the small of her back while the other tangled in her dark curls.
She broke the kiss, her breathing slightly elevated. "Interesting," she murmured, her fingers still tracing patterns across his chest. "You're not what I expected."
"In what way?"
"You're passionate," she observed. "But controlled. Most Terrans I've encountered are either brutally dominant or pathetically submissive." She tilted her head, studying him. "You're neither."
"Is that a problem?" His hands remained at her waist, neither pulling her closer nor pushing her away.
"It's... refreshing," she admitted. Her fingers continued to trace the lines of his uniform. "In this universe, intimacy is rarely about connection. It's about power, control, and dominance. I imagine it's quite different in your universe. From the way you speak, your Federation values sound almost utopian. Equality, respect, cooperation." Her lips curved into a small smile. "Though I suspect human nature remains similar, regardless of the universe."
"Some aspects do," he agreed. "But culture shapes expression. What's encouraged versus what's suppressed."
"And what does your culture encourage?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper as she slowly began to unfasten it.
"Mutual consent," he replied, catching her wrist gently. "And clear intentions."
Momentary irritation flashed across her features at being stopped, but it quickly transformed into curiosity. "My intentions should be obvious," she said.
"Are they?" he challenged. "Are you interested in me, or in what I can offer you? Power, protection, a way out of this universe?"
She laughed softly. "Can't it be both?" She freed her wrist from his grasp with a twist. "I'm pragmatic, as you noted earlier. But that doesn't mean I can't also be interested in you." Stepping back, she created more distance between them. "You're right to question my motives. In your position, I would do the same. Everyone has an agenda. Everyone wants something."
"And what do you want, Deanna?" he asked, deliberately using her first name.
The use of her given name seemed to catch her off guard. She paused, glass halfway to her lips, before recovering her composure. "Survival, first and foremost," she admitted. "Beyond that... options."
"Options?"
"Possibilities," she clarified. "Alternatives to the path I'm currently on." She gestured around them. "The Empire rewards ambition and ruthlessness, but the price is perpetual vigilance. One moment of weakness, one miscalculation, and everything ends."
"Sounds exhausting."
"It is," she agreed, surprising him with her candor. "But it's the only life I've known." She set her glass down and approached him again. "Until you arrived with your talk of another universe, another way of existing." She stopped directly before him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. "So yes, I'm interested both in you and in what you can offer me." Her hand rose to trace the line of his jaw. "The man who offers power instead of taking it."
He caught her hand, holding it against his cheek for a moment before lowering it. "And the kiss?"
Her lips curved into a smile. "I've found that physical attraction can be a powerful motivator. And a useful tool."
"Is that all it was?"
Her demeanor shifted, becoming more thoughtful. "Not entirely," she conceded. "You're different. I wanted to see if that difference extended to intimacy as well."
"And your conclusion?"
"Inconclusive," she murmured, her lips a breath away from his. "I think I need more data."
This time, when she kissed him, there was more genuine desire. Her body pressed against his without reservation, her arms sliding around his neck as she deepened the kiss. He responded in kind, his hands spanning her waist before sliding up her back, pulling her closer. The kiss intensified, days of tension and the strange intimacy of their situation fueling the heat between them. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her body arching against his as his hands explored the curves hidden beneath her dress.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Her usual composed demeanor had been replaced by something more primal, more honest.
"Well," she said, slightly unsteady. "That was... informative."
He laughed softly. "Is that your professional assessment, Inquisitor?"
"Perhaps not entirely professional," she admitted. "This complicates things."
"Does it?"
"Attraction creates vulnerability."
"Or it could be strength," he suggested. "Having someone you can trust, truly trust and rely on."
She studied him thoughtfully. "And you believe I could trust you? That we could trust each other?"
"Alright, then," Troi continued, not waiting for his answer, her voice soft, almost hesitant. "I'll trust you. I'll lower my guards."
"Show me what it's like to be cared for, valued, and respected as an equal. No power plays, no manipulation. I'm not giving myself over to this fabled Federation. If this is an agreement between you and me, then show me how you'll treat me."
Tyson pulled her close and kissed her. Despite his great strength, he wasn't forceful. His embrace made her feel safe; a gentle kiss, a promise of something different, something she had never experienced in her life. There was no demand, no expectation, just quiet reassurance that he would honor her request.
She leaned into the embrace, allowing herself to relax against him. It was a strange sensation, this feeling of safety, of being cherished. She had spent her entire life building walls, protecting herself from the harsh realities of the Terran Empire. Now, with a single kiss, he was asking her to tear those walls down.
When the kiss ended, he kept his arms around her, holding her gently. He looked into her eyes, sincere. "I will," he promised, his voice low. "I'll show you what it's like."
She searched his face, looking for any sign of deception, any hint of a hidden agenda. But all she saw was honesty and genuine desire to fulfill his promise. It was unnerving, this complete lack of manipulation. She wasn't used to it.
"How? How will you show me?"
He smiled softly. "By listening to you. By respecting your boundaries. By valuing your opinions. By treating you as an equal partner."
She frowned slightly. "That sounds… simple."
"It is," he agreed. "But simple doesn't mean worse."
He leaned her back on the sofa and kissed her again. His hand gently began sliding down the inside of the collar of her dress.
She tilted her head slightly, deepening the kiss as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck. A shiver ran through her in anticipation and trepidation. She had never allowed herself to be this vulnerable, this exposed. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.
His lips moved from her mouth to the curve of her jaw, his breath warm against her skin. "Are you sure about this, Deanna?" he murmured, desire roughening his voice.
She hesitated. Was she ready for this? Was she ready to let go of the control she had clung to for so long? She looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception, any hint of a hidden agenda. But all she saw was genuine desire and quiet respect. It was enough.
"Yes," she whispered, barely audible. "I'm sure."
His lips returned to hers, more urgent now, more demanding. His hand continued its slow descent, tracing the line of her collarbone before slipping beneath the fabric of her dress. His tongue danced with hers, exploring every contour of her mouth. He tasted of Saurian Brandy and something uniquely his own. His hand continued its exploration, sliding down her back, tracing the curve of her spine. Pausing at the small of her back, his fingers deftly undid the clasp of her bra before moving again, sliding up her ribcage, brushing against the swell of her breast. She gasped, her body arching against him. He paused, his hand hovering just above her breast. He looked into her face, questioning. "Is this okay?"
She hesitated. Terrans took what they wanted. Second-guessing and questioning were signs of weakness. But knowing that he was laughably stronger than her, yet still sought her consent, made her feel safe, appreciated, and respected.
She nodded slowly, locked on his gaze. "Yes," she whispered. "It's okay."
His hand closed over her breast, fingers gently kneading the soft flesh. She moaned again.
His lips moved to the curve of her neck, teeth gently nipping at her skin. His hand moved again, sliding down her stomach, fingers tracing the line of her abdomen. He was gentle, but she knew he could take what he wanted from her. She was completely in control, yet at the same time wholly at his mercy.
And she didn't mind.
His hand continued its descent, sliding down her thigh, bringing her dress down with it. She had never felt this aroused, this desperate.
His hand paused, fingers hooked around the sides of her panties. He looked into her face. "Are you sure about this, Deanna?"
She hesitated again. Was she ready for this? She felt like he wasn't just asking about her undergarments. Was she ready to surrender completely? No, that wasn't right. Was she ready to trust him?
She looked into his eyes. All she saw was genuine desire and quiet respect.
It was enough.
"Yes," she whispered. "Stop asking. I'm sure. I trust you."
His hand moved again, sliding down what remained of her dress along with her underwear. She arched, easing the removal of her clothing. His fingers traced upward, sliding higher, brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, moving closer and closer to the center of her desire.
His fingers finally reached their destination, gently caressing the soft flesh between her legs. Teasing and tantalizing her with their touch.
Her eyelids fluttered closed. No one had ever touched her like this before, with such care, such attention to her responses. His fingers continued their skilled exploration as if he could read her body's responses. Perhaps he could. The thought that he might be using his empathy to determine what brought her pleasure should have disturbed her, but instead, it only intensified her arousal.
Her hands weren't idle. She tugged at his uniform, desperate to feel his skin against hers. He paused just long enough to help her, shrugging out of his top and revealing the muscled torso she had only glimpsed before. Her fingers traced the contours of his chest, marveling at the perfect blend of strength and aesthetics.
"You're beautiful," she whispered, surprising herself with the admission. Such sentiments had no place in the Empire.
"So are you," he replied, appreciating her exposed body.
He lowered his head again, this time trailing kisses across her collarbone, lower, and lower still until his lips replaced his fingers, causing her to cry out. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as pleasure built within her. All thoughts of the Empire, of power struggles and survival, faded away. There was only him and the exquisite pleasure he was creating with his mouth and hands. He stayed there for minutes that felt like hours. When her release finally came, he held her through it, his arms strong and secure around her hips.
As the tremors subsided, she found herself curled against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. His heartbeat was strong and steady beneath her ear, a reassuring rhythm in the aftermath of such intensity.
"That was..." she began, then faltered, unable to find words adequate to describe the experience.
"Just the beginning," he promised.
She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. She had given him her trust. And he had honored it. "Show me more," she whispered, her hand sliding down his chest toward the waistband of his uniform pants. "Show me everything."
He shifted their positions, laying her back against the sofa's cushions. His body hovered over hers, weight supported on his forearms. She reached up, fingers tracing the contours of his face, memorizing every line and plane. This was different from any encounter she'd experienced before. There was no rush to dominate, no struggle for control.
He lowered his head, capturing her lips in a kiss that started gently but quickly intensified. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, seeking entrance which she readily granted. Their tongues tangled, exploring and tasting as hands roamed freely over exposed skin. Her fingers found the fastening of his uniform pants, deftly undoing them. He broke the kiss long enough to shed the remainder of his clothing, revealing himself fully to her appreciative gaze. He was magnificent, his body a perfect blend of strength and grace.
Tyson sucked in a sharp breath as her hand closed around him. Lowering her head, she took him in her mouth. She sucked and stroked him until gently pulling back.
He took the cue and positioned himself between her thighs.
Troi had made it clear that he didn't need to ask. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer. He entered her slowly, giving her time to adjust to the feel of him. She gasped at the sensation, her body arching to take him deeper. He stilled once fully seated within her, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling.
"You feel amazing," he murmured, desire roughening his voice.
She couldn't respond with words. The feeling of fullness, of connection, was overwhelming. She had never experienced anything like it. He began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that had her gasping with each thrust. His hands were everywhere, caressing, exploring, finding spots that made her moan and arch against him. His lips traced the column of her throat, the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her breast.
Her hands weren't idle either. She explored the broad expanse of his back, the powerful muscles of his shoulders, the firm curve of his buttocks. She urged him deeper, faster, her body demanding more of the pleasure he was providing. He obliged, increasing the pace and force of his thrusts. The room filled with the sounds of their passion; gasps, moans, the slick sounds of bodies moving together in perfect harmony. She felt the tension building within her again, a coiling pressure that demanded release.
"Let go," he urged, a rough whisper in her ear. "I've got you."
Those simple words, the promise of safety they contained, pushed her over the edge. She cried out as pleasure crashed through her, her body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. He continued his movements, drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling beneath him.
Only then did he seek his own release, his rhythm faltering as he approached the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he reversed and pulled out. She reached down and grabbed his throbbing manhood. She stroked him until he grunted in pleasure and unloaded. Spurt after spurt of his essence covered her in ropes from belly to chest. After half a minute, he was finally spent. Quickly moving to the replicator, he retrieved towels to clean up. Reverently wiping her body, she reveled in the care and consideration.
They lay together in silence for several minutes, their breathing gradually slowing, heartbeats returning to normal. Her mind was unusually quiet, the constant vigilance and calculation that characterized her existence in the Empire temporarily silenced. In its place was a strange sense of peace, of contentment.
"What are you thinking?" he asked softly, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder.
In the Empire, revealing one's thoughts was dangerous, a potential weakness to be exploited. But here, in this moment, with this man, the usual rules didn't apply.
"I'm thinking that I've never experienced anything like that before," she admitted. "This was... different."
"Different good or different bad?"
She lifted her head to meet his gaze. "Different good," she assured him. "Very good."
She had trusted him, had made herself vulnerable in a way she never had before. And he had honored that trust, had given her pleasure without taking control, had shown her a different way of connecting. She tried to reconcile this with her understanding of relationships. In the Empire, relationships were transactional. The idea of prioritizing someone else's needs was foreign to her.
"What if I fail?" she asked. "If I can't live up to your expectations?"
"There are no expectations," he countered. "Just a willingness to try. And if we stumble along the way, we'll pick each other up and keep going."
"I've spent my entire life in this Empire, learning to survive in a world of constant betrayal and manipulation. And what if I hurt you? What if I betray you? I'm not a good person. I've done things I'm not proud of."
"Everyone makes mistakes," he said. "The important thing is to learn from them and to strive to be better." He reached out and took her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "I'm not asking you to be perfect. I'm just asking you to be honest with me. And to trust that I'll be there for you."
She squeezed his hand, her heart pounding. It was a leap of faith, a gamble that could cost her everything. But something inside her, a small flicker of hope, told her that it was worth the risk.
"Alright," she said, her voice stronger now. "I'll do it. I'll trust you."
He smiled, warmth in his gaze. "I won't let you down," he promised.
She had just drifted into a contented sleep when a familiar tingling sensation at the base of his skull jolted him to full alertness.
Perk Activated!
Divine Voyeur.
+100 RP
Reality Points: 2350
"Bravo, Inquisitor! Bravo indeed!" Q's voice resonated directly in his mind, dripping with theatrical enthusiasm. "What a performance! What passion! What... creativity. I must say, I'm impressed."
He stiffened, careful not to disturb her as he silently responded. "Oh, now you've got something to say, Q?"
"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. I'm merely offering congratulations on surviving your little Vulcan hormonal crisis. The Blood Fever can be quite... fatal... when left untreated. And what a treatment you found!" Q's mental voice was practically purring with amusement. "You've boldly gone where many have fantasized, but few have dared, the intimate depths of a Betazoid's mind... and body."
He glanced down at Troi's sleeping form, relieved that she seemed unaware of this intrusion. "Are you done?"
"Not quite," Q replied. "I'm genuinely impressed. Do you realize what you've accomplished? You've seduced the Inquisitor, the Empire's premier telepath and interrogator, into betraying everything she's ever known. And for what? A taste of Federation compassion and a rather spectacular pair of orgasms?"
Despite his irritation, Tyson couldn't fight the forming smile. "It wasn't seduction. It was honesty."
"Semantics," Q dismissed. "It's not just about physical stamina but mental fortitude. After all, pillow talk takes on a whole new meaning when your partner can hear your every thought. One slip, one moment of doubt about her trustworthiness, and she'll know."
He gently stroked Troi's hair, watching her face remain peaceful in sleep. Q's tone turned surprisingly serious. "You've given her something no one in this universe has ever offered her. Genuine respect, trust, affection. That makes you incredibly powerful... and incredibly vulnerable. The question is, which will prove stronger? Her lifetime of Imperial conditioning, or these new feelings you've awakened?"
"I believe in her," he replied firmly.
"How charmingly naive, but then, that's part of what makes you so entertaining." Q chuckled. "Congratulations again on surviving this time. The Mirror Universe suits you better than I expected. Perhaps there's hope for you yet."
As Q's presence vanished completely, Tyson mumbled under his breath, "Not a word before sending me to this universe, but of course he says something after I have sex."
Companion Added!
[50 CP] Warped Reflection: Inquisitor Troi (Companions)
Individuals recruited through 'Warped Reflections' receive no CP and can take no Drawbacks, but will receive all purchases that are discounted for whatever Background most closely matches their identity for free. For this Companion, the Manipulator Background.
Origin: Manipulator
Weapons, technologies, resources... ultimately, the one thing that determines success is control over people. You are a schemer, a liar, a trickster who does their best work by hiding their true goals... be it by working from the shadows or by presenting a face to the rest of the universe that is a mask utterly unlike your true self. You thrive on chaos and dissent, pulling the strings to ensure you always come out ahead, never revealing yourself until it's time for a single, decisive strike.
Aesthetics Of Success (Perk)
Though guns and blades offer their own ways to success, as they always have, one truth remains evident. Those with beauty and charisma are more likely to succeed than those without. You are one of these individuals, blessed with a great personal magnetism, whether you prefer the seductive allure of make-up and enticing outfits or the lantern-jawed image of confidence and courage. Look the part, and the weak-minded are that much more likely to follow your lead.
Enticing (Perk)
Though it's obviously best to be both, sometimes it really is better to be loved than feared. You are an expert at attracting people, whether that means romantically or through inspiring loyalty and devotion. Platonic love is still useful, after all, and whereas sometimes you might need to strip naked and sleep your way to success, other times it's best to project an image of integrity and responsibility. However fake it may be. A mind hardened with fear and discipline can make men move, but only the heart can make them perform miracles in your name.
Un-Intendant Consequences (Perk)
The promise of reward or death can motivate just fine, but true terror only comes from the unknown. Your rivals and foes will find you exceedingly difficult to predict, your seemingly erratic actions throwing off all but the most observant of spectators. One day, you'll reward someone for initiative and even standing up to you; the next, you'll have a man executed for doing the same thing. It's all about misdirection, because the less people can anticipate your actions, the more likely you are to achieve your goals. As a side effect, this also makes those in your service less likely to clue in to the fact their days might be numbered... after all, everyone expects to receive the reward, while surely it's everyone else risking punishment and death?
The Living Proof That Fate Is Real (Perk)
That's what you are. Your schemes, your plots, your layers upon layers of lies and deceptions... somehow, they seem to work far better than they have any right to. It's like the universe itself conspires to keep your true intent hidden until you need it to be known. Most notably, you are an absolute master of getting others to do what you want them to do, often even managing this without them realizing you're the one pushing them down that path. Whether you use this to create new, loyal subordinates by slowly twisting them to your worldview, or if you simply use and discard them as the expendable pawns they are, you are the metaphorical spider in a web, spinning strings to pull for all those around you. With enough care and ambition, even the throne might not be out of your reach...
Character Points: 350
— Star Jumper —
Tyson strolled through the corridors of the Enterprise. The brig remained empty, a good sign for now. The crew had fallen into line with surprising ease after the takeover.
A pair of ensigns passed him, nodding respectfully.
"Carry on," he said.
Empathy revealed their anxiety about the new command structure. He made his way to Deck 12, passing several crew quarters and maintenance stations, noting the reduced personnel presence throughout the ship. The Enterprise was designed for a thousand crew members, but they were operating with barely a third of that number. Skeleton crews manned essential stations, while entire sections remained dormant. As he rounded a corner, he stopped abruptly. Before him stood an entrance he hadn't expected to find on a starship. Large double doors with designs depicting warriors in combat. The architecture was distinctly Roman in style, with columns flanking the entrance.
"Computer, what is this facility?"
"The Combat Arena, Deck 12, Section 7."
He pushed open the doors and stepped inside. The space opened dramatically before him into a full gladiatorial arena. Tiered seating surrounded a circular pit about ten feet below. Tyson wasn't sure if this was a large holodeck or if it was filled with actual sand. The arena floor spanned approximately fifty feet in diameter, with various weapons displayed on racks along the perimeter wall.
"Impressive," he muttered, descending the steps to the viewing area.
Crew members dotted the stands, some taking in the spectacle below, others placing bets on who would emerge victorious.
Behind him, a crowd had gathered, following one of the ship's boldest fighters. The man was rumored to have gone toe-to-toe with Picard before he had taken command. A man rumored to be one of the best pilots in the Terran Starfleet. And a man who was on a warpath, his march started by rumors that broke his heart and steeled his fist.
As Tyson surveyed the scene in the Arena, he was accosted by the man. His tall frame loomed in his path. It took him a moment to recognize Commander Riker.
"Did you have fun?"
Confusion knitted Tyson's brow as he regarded the superior officer. "Did I have fun with what?
The commander's response was immediate and unexpected. With a roar of "With my girl!" he launched a fist toward Tyson.
But he was already in motion.
Sidestepping the punch, Riker swung at thin air. Missing his target, the commander stumbled forward, off balance. Seizing the opportunity, Tyson shoved the man's chest, the action propelling him backward. Riker stumbled over the low railing and hit the arena floor below. Hard.
Standing at the edge of the arena, looking down at the commander slowly getting back to his feet, Tyson felt the weight of the spectators' gazes on him. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible. He could hear the murmurings and see the quick exchange of credits among the spectators. The unmistakable beep associated with activating a combadge to inform others of the situation repeated through the crowd. The big question hung in the air.
Would he jump into the arena and continue the brawl?
He could walk away, or he could see this confrontation through.
Looking down at Riker, who was now on his feet in the arena, fists clenched and ready for a fight, the crowd's excitement was palpable, their bloodlust evident in their eager faces. But something else stirred within Tyson, a realization that had been building since he first arrived in the Mirror Universe. He purchased the Perk Change The Present; it would allow him to have a greater impact in this universe, and his actions would have a far greater consequence than they would otherwise.
He had the potential to effect meaningful change.
Since arriving, he had been cautious, calculating, playing the role of a loyal officer. Captain Picard in the Prime universe had ordered him to respect the Prime Directive, allowing events to unfold naturally. But this wasn't a pre-warp civilization they were observing from afar; this was a corrupt empire built on cruelty and domination.
He vaulted over the railing, landing gracefully in the sand across from the commander. The crowd roared with approval, but he raised his hand for silence.
The low cacophony of the Enterprise sparring pits shifted to an expectant hush as his words rang out in the air. "Your girl?" Tyson's smirk was as sharp as the cutting words projected through the arena. "She was moaning under me all last night. Oh, and this morning. And maybe I'll take her again later tonight too… After I beat your ass!"
His voice resounded with cocky confidence. As his taunts settled among the spectators, the shock in the commander's face was quickly replaced with blazing anger. His revelation had rattled Riker, jealousy ripping through him. His face turned a mottled shade of red, rage and humiliation pulsing through him.
The crowd's silence broke into a cacophony of jeers and cheers.
Riker, fueled by wounded pride, charged forward, driven by the desire for retaliation, his face contorted with indignation and raw emotion. But Tyson stood his ground. It wasn't his first time in an arena. He was the duelling champion on Taris, and now, he was ready to fight, to establish his dominance, to play the game the Terran way. This was not a confrontation he was going to back away from.
The commander lunged at him with a wild punch. He sought to retaliate against the Inquisitor's audacious claim. Yet Tyson sidestepped the attack effortlessly, throwing a probing jab in return, but Riker was quick on his feet and evaded the strike. A gruff cheer erupted from the watching crew, their raucous voices echoing through the arena.
He was patient with his attacks. Tyson didn't want to win the fight too quickly, because crew members were still arriving in the arena's stands. He wanted as many people to witness this as possible. His patience paid off as the crowd filled. He caught Riker with a kick to the ribs. The commander stumbled back, wincing as he tried to absorb the brunt of the unexpected blow. He capitalized on the man's unbalanced state and landed a second underhook to the same spot on his ribs. Riker was sent sprawling and wheezing. An approving cheer echoed throughout the sparring pits, the spectacle of the battle feeding their bloodlust.
A low growl escaped his lips as Riker rose, then swung his fist again; this time, his punch connected solidly with the Inquisitor's side. Tyson grunted slightly, but his smug grin never wavered. He'd taken the hit purposely and held the man's hand after the strike, forcefully pulling him closer. He swung his other arm around and caught Riker in the chest with the flat of his arm. The strong lariat sent the commander sprawling onto the hard, sandy floor of the arena once more.
The crowd's cheer reached a crescendo. The raw fervor of the crowd swelled as more crewmen flooded into the stands. The sound of their wild cheering reverberated through the sparring pit, echoing off the cold metallic walls and transforming into a feverish, almost primal chant. Word had spread that the Inquisitor and Commander were going at it in the arena. The crew was streaming in, hoping to catch a glimpse of the battle for the second-highest rank on the ship. The combatants had drawn the attention of the entire ship, the promise of a brutal gladiatorial bout too tantalizing to ignore.
Riker struggled to his feet. He attempted to lunge forward once more, fists swinging, but Tyson easily dodged, leaving the commander panting and gasping for air. Suddenly, a rough voice cut through the commotion, bellowing, "Kill the Inquisitor! You can do it, Commander!" A gruff cheer echoed the sentiment, an ominous consensus forming within the ranks of the spectators. The man then hurled a sheathed Klingon dagger into the fray. Riker seized the weapon. He unsheathed the blade, holding it aloft, and the crowd erupted in raucous approval.
Now armed with a dagger, the commander glared across the arena at him. He approached cautiously, controlled. His first slash was swift but reckless, an attempt to gain a quick victory. Using his Augment reflexes combined with the guidance from the Force, Tyson let the blade slice the air inches from his chest, giving him the opening he needed. Riker reversed the blade, retracing its path, trying once more to slice him, but he was already within the man's guard. He grabbed the wrist holding the knife before it could gain any momentum, and drove a vicious headbutt into the commander's nose. Stunning him and shattering his nose.
Riker never had a chance to retaliate. Tyson drove a knee up into his opponent's solar plexus, the soft point just below the sternum. The blow sent the superior officer's diaphragm into spasms, knocking the wind out of him. Now the commander was doubled over, unable to breathe properly, and unable to focus while bleeding profusely from his broken nose.
His next punch laid Riker low. He was knocked to the ground unconscious.
The onlookers watched with bated breath as Tyson reached down and picked up the Klingon dagger. A ripple of ran through the crowd, cheers of excitement mixed with boos of disappointment. The sentiment was divided, but the spectacle of the battle had them all on their feet. They had witnessed an exceptional display of combat, and even those who detested him couldn't deny the thrill of the fight.
He stood triumphant, the echoes of the crowd marking his victory, their shouts and cheers gradually diminishing into a heavy silence. Every pair of eyes was on him. He let the quiet swell before he broke it with his words.
"By the laws of the Terran Empire, I have bested Commander Riker in combat," he began, his voice clear and resonating across the hushed pit. "His rights and position are now mine." His gaze swept over the assembled crew, each one of them listening intently. He gestured grandly with the dagger to the world around them, the ringed arena, the bloodied floor, the excited crowd.
"All I need to do is drive this dagger into him. He's helpless. But this..." He paused for effect, scorn lacing his voice.
"This is why we remain weak. This is why the Cardassians and the Klingons mock us. We spill each other's blood with as much fervor as we do theirs. We squabble amongst ourselves while our true enemies pick at what's left. If we wish to break free from the confines of the Sol System, if we dream of taking the battle to our enemies, then we must stop murdering those who should stand beside us in the fight!"
"Commander Riker will not die today. But let this be a lesson to you all. From this moment forward, if anyone aboard this vessel takes it upon themselves to kill another Terran, they will answer to me!"
The crowd was still as his oath hung in the air. Today, he had not just won a battle. He had declared a new course, one that was less about petty internal squabbles and more about a unified front against their true enemies. He had thrown down the gauntlet, and only time would tell how the crew would respond.
The silence stretched, punctuated only by the commander's labored breathing. He stood over his fallen opponent, dagger still in hand, waiting for the crew's reaction.
A single figure rose from the front row.
Lieutenant Barclay.
He began to clap. The sound echoed lonely at first, but then another joined in. And another. Soon, scattered applause spread through sections of the crowd. Not everyone joined. Many faces remained stony, skeptical. Some were openly hostile. But enough had responded to make it clear his words had found purchase.
Now he was glad he'd helped Barclay.
Tossing the dagger aside, it landed with a dull thud in the sand. The symbolic gesture wasn't lost on the audience. Tyson knelt beside Riker, checking his pulse and assessing his injuries. The Commander would live, though his pride might take longer to recover than his body.
Episode: Star Trek Mirror Universe - Inquisitor Complete!
+100 RP
Reality Points: 2450
— Star Jumper —
Tyson
Origins: Human, Humanoid, Drop-In, Space Pirate, Bad Guy, Officer (Inquisitor, Lieutenant-Commander), Displaced
Race: Augment Human-Betazoid (Hybrid)
Character Points: 350, [250 KOTOR (Vicky)]
Reality Points: 2450
Ship Points: 2650 [1100 Mirror Universe]
Credits: 115,350
Status Effects: (none)
Drawbacks:
Gauntlet (Locked)
Ensign Marty Stu
A Simple Re'Q'uest
Hybrid (Betazoid)
Amok Time/Blood Fever
Outlawed
Divine Voyeur
Black Coat Society
Alien Threat
The Science Directorate Has Determined...
Spoils of War
Perks:
Cosmic Awareness
Out of Nowhere
Going Native
Live and Let Live
This is (Not?) Rocket Science
Kinda Bland
Determinator
Painted On
Snakeskin
Adaptable
Duelist
Master with your Hands
Best of the Best
Everything Is A Weapon
Augment
Force Specialization: Intelligence
Tactical Info
Sever Force
Specialty: Operations; Sub-Specialties (Communications, Engineering, Piloting)
Speedy Promotions
Untainted
Q This
We Are Still Starfleet
Fit For Duty: Command Division - Expert Ship Tactics and Combat, Expert Ship Command
Change The Present
Items:
Laser Blade
Spacesuit
Agony Booth
Cloaking Minefield
Lightsaber
Gray Goo Suit
Transwarp Beam Equation
Iconic Item: Iconic Interceptor
Evidence Of Integrity
Dressed For Success And Murder
Companions:
(Vicky) V-KO IV Nursedroid: Access Key, Artificial Intelligence Upgrade, Gray Goo Upgrade, Master With Your Hands, Light Weapon, Jumper's Master Key, Scaling Cloak, Origin: Jedi, Force Specialization: Intelligence, Enhanced Mind, Lightsaber, Armored Robes, Battle Meditation, Origin: AI, Origin: Elite, Memory Banks, Social Algorithms, Above Law and Reason, Pedigree, Planetary Domicile, Photonic Rapier, Security Features, Quantum Locked BUS, Adaptive Personal Force Field, False Star Forge.
T'Pol: Access Key, Origin: Rubber Forehead, Origin: Elite, Above Law and Reason, Pedigree, Distinct Feature, Everone Likes Green Chicks, Planetary Domicile, Photonic Rapier, Protector Drones, Space Elf, Space Wizard, Symbol
D'Lavina
Inquisitor Troi: Origin: Manipulator, Aesthetics Of Success, Enticing, Un-Intendant Consequences, The Living Proof That Fate Is Real
Personal Reality:
Access Key (Additional Keys, Key Link)
Control Room
Security System
Antechamber
Warehouse
High-Security Inter-Reality Connecting Door (Star Trek Enterprise, Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic)
Medical Bay (The Nano-Medical Lab, The Bio-Synthesis Lab, Microbiome Replacement Lab, The Counseling Bay)
Housing Complex (Basic Nutrition, A Little Less Basic Nutrition, A Lot Less Basic Nutrition, Choice Apartments, Luxury Apartments, Who's Got the Powa, Pipes Pipes Pipes)
Playing With Portals (Portal Link, Portal Control Rod, Free Portal, Portal Aperature x4)
The Mystical Menagerie
Guardian's Greenhouse
Ship Sections (Cryo-Chambers)
Personal Mini-Reality (The Village, Wildlife for Your Wild Life, The Meaning of Life)
Digital Extranet (Voice Over Wharehous Protocol Cellular Service)
Spaceships:
Tramp Freighter (Destroyed - Respawn on 02/28/2365)
Sith Interceptor (Destroyed - Respawn on 04/18/2365) (Bridge Upgrade)
Automated Repair Station (Ship Size Rating: IV, Station, Bridge, Space Hulk, Artificial Gravity, Cryo-Chambers, Auto-Repair System, Synapses, Distributed, Automated Ship, Analytic Suite, Docking Port, Transporter Room, Matter Printer, Negentropy Reactor, Deflector Shields, Clarketech Module, Production Lines, Hangar, Cargo Bay, Living Quarters)
Narada (Ship Size Rating: IV, Artificial Gravity, Alcubierre Drive, Auto-Repair System, Exotic Materials (Nanomaterials), Cargo Bay, Hangar, Hyperdrive (Transwarp), Antimatter Reactor, Navigation Suite, Analytic Suite, Deflector Shields, Missiles, Cyber Warfare Suite (Mining Drill)
Interdictor (Destroyed - Respawn on 04/18/2365) (Ship Size Rating: III, Artificial Gravity, Hangar, Hyperdrive, Fusion Reactor, Navigation Suite, Point Defense, Deflector Shields, Jump Suppression Field, Beam Weapons, Follower Crew)
False Star Forge (Destroyed - Respawn on 05/01/2365) (Ship Size Rating: III, Station, A.I. Core, Entertainment Deck, Exotic Materials: Nanomaterials, Modular, Secure, Nanite Shroud)
Symbol (Ship Size Rating: II, Station, Distributed, Battery Banks, Physical Armor, Beam Weapons, Gravitic Shields, Exotic Materials: Crystal, A.I. Core, Modular, Inertialess Drive)
Iconic Interceptor (Ship Size Rating: IV) (General Upgrades: Articial Gravity, Auto-Repair System, Bridge Upgrade, Modular, Exotic Materials: Nanomaterials, Exotic Materials: Crystal, Secure) (Sections: Cargo Bay, Cryo-Chambers, Hangar, Living Quarters, Production Lines) (Controls: A.I. Core, Distributed, Synapses) (Crew: Follower Crew, Automated Ship) (Propulsion: Alcubierre Drive, Hyperdrive (Transwarp), Hyperdrive, Inertialess Drive) (Reactors: Battery Banks, Fusion Reactor, Antimatter Reactor, Negentropy Reactor) (Sensors: Navigation Suite, Analytic Suite) (Shields: Physical Armor, Point Defense, Deflector Shields, Gravitic Shields, Jump Suppression Field, ) (Utilities: Docking Port, Entertainment Deck, Transporter Room, Clarktech Matter Printer) (Weapons: Beam Weapons, Missiles, Cyber Warfare Suite (Mining Drill), Nanite Shroud)
ISS Enterprise-D (Ship Size Rating: III - Heavy Cruiser), Artificial Gravity, Cargo Bay, Alcubierre Drive, Antimatter Reactor, Navigation Suite, Deflector Shields, Beam Weapons, Medical Facilities, Laboratory Space, Holodeck, Hangar Bay x2, Non-Specialized Ship Alterations (Saucer separation), Non-Specialized Ship Alterations, Direct Energy Weapons (Spinal Phaser Lance), Non-Specialized Ship Alterations, Missiles (Rapid Fire Photon Torpedo Launchers), 'Hardened' crew.