Chapter 53 - Season 3: Episode 34 - Commander

Episode 34 - Commander

Stardate: 41433.0

Earth Standard Date: June 7, 2364.

Location: ISS Enterprise, Outside Sol System, Interstellar space.

The bitter taste of battle still lingered in his mouth, and the adrenaline from the fight coursed through his veins. Ignoring the crowd, Tyson looked down at the limp form of Riker, who lay groaning on the ground. Without a word, he reached down and grasped Riker by his collar, his Augment strength easily hoisting the beaten Commander. His face was a mask as he began to drag Riker across the deck toward the brig. The sight of Tyson hauling the defeated Riker to the brig was one all would remember. Before that battle, few had seen Inquisitor Tyson in action. Afterward, the man became an Enterprise legend. A ripple of unease coursed through the crew as they watched their formidable commander reduced to such a state. But there was no sympathy. This was the Terran way.

Reaching down, Tyson tapped the insignia on his chest. "Inquisitor Tyson to Dr. Crusher."

"Crusher here," came the prompt response.

"If you're available, I need you in the brig. If not, please send a member of your staff. Commander Riker requires medical attention."

There was a pause on the other end, but Crusher responded, "Understood, Inquisitor. I am on my way."

Tyson couldn't help but reflect on the tumultuous morning. From a passionate tryst with the Inquisitor to a battle with the First Officer, it had been nothing short of eventful, and it wasn't even noon.

The security officers at the brig snapped to attention when Tyson approached, staring at Riker's unconscious form.

"Open cell three," Tyson ordered.

The forcefield shimmered and disappeared. Tyson unceremoniously dropped Riker onto the narrow cot inside. Blood from Riker's split lip stained the gray fabric.

"Sir, should we restrain him? Or prepare the Agony Booth?" one of the security officers asked.

"No. Let him wake up with his dignity at least partially intact."

The officer nodded, clearly surprised by the show of mercy. Tyson stepped back as the forcefield reactivated, creating a transparent barrier between them and the unconscious commander.

The doors to the brig slid open, and Dr. Beverly Crusher entered, medical kit in hand. Her red hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and she surveyed the scene coldly, so unlikethe compassionate doctor from his universe.

"Doctor," Tyson acknowledged with a nod.

Crusher studied Riker's condition. "You did this?"

"Combat Arena," Tyson replied simply. "He challenged me."

"About time someone put him in his place. The man has been insufferable since Jellico's capture."

She approached the forcefield. "Lower it, please."

The security officer complied, and Crusher entered the cell. She knelt beside Riker, running a scanner over his prone form.

"Three broken ribs, dislocated jaw, minor concussion. Clean work."

"I wanted to make a point, not kill him."

Crusher nodded approvingly. "Smart. Riker has his uses." She administered a hypospray to Riker's neck. "This will keep him unconscious while I work."

As she began treating Riker's injuries, Tyson stepped back, allowing her space. The security officers maintained their positions, watching the proceedings with interest.

"Inquisitor Tyson to the bridge." Picard's voice came through the combadge, interrupting the tense silence.

Tyson tapped his badge. "On my way, Commodore."

He turned to leave but paused at Crusher's voice.

"Inquisitor," she called. When he looked back, she continued, "The crew will talk about this. They respect strength. You've just earned yourself a reputation."

"That was part of the point, Doctor," Tyson replied.

"Then congratulations. You've succeeded."

He nodded and left the brig, making his way toward the turbolift. Crew members stepped aside as he passed, following him with a mixture of fear and respect. Blood still stained his uniform, and he made no effort to clean it off. In this universe, such marks were badges of honor.

"Bridge," he commanded.

The turbolift doors opened to reveal the bridge of the ISS Enterprise. Picard, sitting in the command chair, turned as Tyson entered, taking in the blood-stained uniform with approval.

"Inquisitor," Picard acknowledged. "I hear you've had an eventful morning."

"News travels fast, Commodore," Tyson replied, taking his position beside the command chair.

"On a starship, it always does. Commander Riker's challenge was ill-advised."

"He'll recover," Tyson said evenly. "And perhaps learn something in the process."

Picard nodded. "Indeed. And the rest of the crew has learned something as well." He stood, gesturing for Tyson to follow him to the ready room. "Which is precisely what I wanted to discuss with you."

The bridge crew watched them go, but Tyson could feel them reassessing, recalculating. The dynamics had shifted, and everyone knew it.

"Report."

"Sir. Following Terran customs, Commander Riker attacked me, and we engaged in a contest in the sparring pits. I emerged victorious."

"Yes, a contest... I heard about your fight, and about your... declaration," Picard continued, "It's a bold move, to state that intra-Terran conflict should be eliminated on this vessel. It's a stance I can agree with. But enforcing such a rule, as it's your prerogative, will be your duty. This, however, presents a logistical challenge. You've put me in a difficult position. I just got a first officer after not having one on the Stargazer for a time. How am I supposed to resolve ranks and duties?"

"I wouldn't mind the rank of Commander. But the paperwork of an executive officer... assigning duty shifts and overseeing daily operations, that seems rather dull work."

Picard paused at that, studying Tyson. "Indeed," he responded with a touch of humor. "That particular role does require a certain... bureaucratic tenacity."

After a moment of thought, Picard made his decision. "Riker will retain his rank and duties as First Officer," he declared, looking to Tyson. "As for you, Tyson, you will maintain your special rank of Inquisitor but will now be considered equivalent in rank to a Commander. Congratulations on yet another promotion. Let's not shoot for Captain any time soon. Understood? And I expect both of you to cooperate to maintain the functionality of this ship. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Tyson confirmed.

"When he wakes," Picard said, "inform him of our new arrangement. I expect him to accept it with the dignity befitting a Terran officer."

"What of the crew?" Tyson asked. "They witnessed Riker's defeat. Some may see it as an opportunity to advance their positions by challenging him."

Picard's face hardened. "You've made your stance clear on internal conflict, Inquisitor. I suggest you enforce it. The first crew member who attempts to capitalize on this situation will serve as an example to the others."

"Understood, Commodore."

Tyson returned to the brig. One of the security officers cleared his throat. "Sir," he addressed Tyson quietly, "the crew's already talking. Word of your victory has spread to every deck."

"And what's the consensus, Lieutenant...?"

"Hawk, sir. Lieutenant Hawk. The consensus is mixed. Some respect your strength, others question your loyalty to Terran principles. Your speech about unity against external enemies rather than fighting amongst ourselves..."

"Adaptation is necessary for survival."Tyson replied, his voice carrying just enough authority to make Hawk shift uncomfortably.

Hawk nodded, though uncertainty lingered. "Yes, sir."

Crusher finished her treatments and stood. "The Commander is stable. He can make his own way to sickbay when he regains consciousness."

Tyson acknowledged her with a nod, and as the doors closed behind her. "Lieutenant Hawk, spread the word. The Commodore supports my stance on internal conflict. Anyone who challenges it answers to me."

"Yes, sir," Hawk replied.

"The Empire has enemies enough without creating more within our ranks."

Hawk saluted, the motion sharp and precise. "I understand, sir. It will be done."

Now, alone with Riker, Tyson used the chance to Force Heal the injured officer. Slowly, Riker roused. Blinking open his eyes, confusion clouded his gaze before memories of their encounter returned. He looked at Tyson, studying him as though seeing him in a new light. "I didn't think you'd spare me," he admitted, his voice rough from the aftermath of their brutal skirmish. He pushed himself up with a grimace, pain clear in his features.

Tyson merely shrugged. "I am not your enemy, Commander. We're on the same side. That's what this was about."

Riker nodded, leaning heavily on Tyson as he stood. He looked rather humbled, his usually brash demeanor replaced by quiet introspection. After a moment of silence, Riker let out a low chuckle.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you. You were the superior combatant. In hindsight, Inquisitor Troi hardly seems worth the beating."

Tyson laughed at that. "Be that as it may," he replied, "You can't say it wasn't an exciting morning."

"True enough," Riker said, grinning despite his situation. "You can keep the witch, Tyson. She's all yours."

Despite the levity in Riker's words, Tyson sensed an undercurrent of honesty. There was understanding between them now, mutual respect born out of battle.

The corridors were mostly empty. He stood straighter, on his own, once they were in the corridors. Most crew members gave them a wide berth, and those who did cross their path averted their gaze. News traveled fast on a starship, especially news of violence and shifting power dynamics.

"They're afraid of you now," Riker observed. "That was always my currency aboard this ship. Fear."

"Fear only works until someone stops being afraid," Tyson replied. "Or finds something more terrifying to fear."

Riker considered this, wincing as they turned a corner. "And what do you suggest instead? Loyalty through kindness?" He scoffed.

"Loyalty through mutual benefit. Fear creates enemies who wait for you to show weakness. Mutual interest creates allies who help maintain your strength."

The sickbay doors slid open with a hiss. Dr. Crusher looked up from a console, shifting from irritation to interest as she saw who had entered. "Commander Riker," she acknowledged neutrally. "Inquisitor Tyson. I see our patient has rejoined the land of the living."

"The Commander needs a final check before returning to duty."

Crusher raised an eyebrow. "Returning to duty? After the beating you gave him?" She picked up a medical tricorder and began scanning Riker. "Impressive recovery, Commander." She reviewed the tricorder readings. "You'll live. Though you might want to avoid any more... confrontations for a few days." She administered a hypospray to Riker's neck. "This will help with the residual pain. You're free to go."

Riker slid off the biobed, standing straighter than before. "Thank you, Doctor."

As they left sickbay, Riker's demeanor changed subtly. The vulnerability he had shown earlier was gone, replaced by calculated reserve. "I assume you spoke with Picard," he said quietly enough that only Tyson could hear. "What exactly did he tell you?"

"I declared that no Terrans should kill another. Save it for our enemies. He's backing the order, I'm enforcing it. You'll retain your position as First Officer," Tyson replied. "I'll maintain my role as Inquisitor, but with a rank equivalent to Commander. We're to cooperate."

Riker nodded slowly. "And you're satisfied with this arrangement?"

"I have no interest in your job. Duty rosters seem tedious."

A genuine laugh escaped Riker. "You're not wrong about that." He paused, considering Tyson with a new perspective. "You know, for someone who claims to value cooperation, you fight like a demon."

They reached a junction in the corridor. Riker straightened his uniform, composing himself into the intimidating First Officer the crew expected to see. "Well, Inquisitor, it seems we have a ship to run together."

"So it seems."

Riker extended his hand, a gesture rarely seen in the Empire. "To mutual benefit, then."

Tyson took the offered hand, noting the firm grip despite Riker's injuries. "To mutual benefit."

As they parted ways, he couldn't help but reflect on the strange turn of events. In a matter of days, he had gone from outsider to a position of significant influence. He had gained the crew's respect through violence, yet was advocating for unity. The irony wasn't lost on Tyson. A passing ensign flinched away from him, wide-eyed with fear. He nodded to the young officer, who hurried away as quickly as decorum allowed. Yes, he had made an impression today. The question now was how to use that impression to further his goals in this harsh reflection of the universe he knew. Declaring no infighting was a baby step. Testing the waters.

— Star Jumper —

The turbolift doors slid open, and Tyson stepped onto the bridge of the ISS Enterprise. A panorama of stars was visible on the expansive viewscreen that dominated the front wall. The bridge crew attended to their duties; at the center of it all sat Jean-Luc Picard. He was flanked by Inquisitor Troi and Commander Riker. Riker's face, which usually held a roguish grin, was set in serious concentration, focused on the readouts before him. Despite the fight, he looked to be in remarkably good health, thanks to Tyson's Force Healing. At the front of the bridge were the Ops and Navigation stations, manned by Data and Barclay.

Data reported, "Sir, long-range sensors are picking up Terran starships on an intercept course."

"Specifics, Data."

"It is the Stargazer, sir. But it appears to be either leading a task force or being pursued by one. Trailing it are the Excelsior-Class ISS Melbourne, the New Orleans-Classes Kyushu and Rutledge, Miranda-Class Saratoga, and the ISS Yamaguchi, an Ambassador-Class."

Picard asked, "Time to arrival?"

"One hour, thirteen minutes," Data reported.

Picard's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Seems like the Empire isn't too pleased with our little coup." He turned to face his crew. "Red alert, battle stations."

The bridge lighting shifted to a crimson hue as the alert klaxon sounded throughout the ship. Tyson moved swiftly to the tactical station, relieving the junior officer who had been manning it.

"The Admiralty has sent a response force," Riker said, rubbing his jaw where Tyson had struck him during their fight.

Picard stood, tugging at his uniform jacket. "Six ships. They must be quite concerned about our little Enterprise."

Tyson studied the tactical display. The approaching task force represented a significant portion of the Terran fleet's strength in this sector. While the Enterprise was formidable, these odds were concerning.

"Sir, a word in private," Tyson said urgently.

Picard glanced at him, noting his serious demeanor. "In my Ready Room."

As they moved, Riker watched them with suspicious calculation. The door slid shut behind them with a soft hiss, sealing them away from the bridge crew.

"Sir, if Jellico doesn't honor his agreement, the Enterprise may be outmatched," Tyson said without preamble. "While she's a powerful vessel, that's a majority of the Terran fleet, including the Yamaguchi, which isn't a pushover."

Picard moved behind his desk. "I'm aware, Inquisitor. Your point?"

"Requesting permission to transport back to the Cardassian vessel we captured and returned to Utopia Planitia. Having another ship might remind Jellico of his loyalties, in case he's forgotten, and truly cement your position as Commodore, not Captain. Three vessels makes it indisputable."

Picard leaned back in his chair, considering the proposal. His fingers tapped thoughtfully on the desk's polished surface. "You did say as much when we captured the vessel initially, and I shot it down, but things have changed since then." He shook his head. "Unfortunately, we're out of transporter range of Mars, and sending you in a shuttle with that task force approaching is akin to suicide. While I admire your bravery and strategy, I'll not sacrifice you needlessly."

"I worked with Barclay in Engineering, and I have an idea of how to boost the transporter range so that I could get back to Mars," Tyson countered, though it was a lie. He couldn't teleport to the Cardassian ship, even with the Transwarp Beam Equation, because the ship wasn't at warp. But he could use his portals. "Ro and I are all I'd need to take the ship, I'm sure of it."

Picard studied Tyson's face, searching for any sign of deception or ulterior motive. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant alert klaxon from the bridge.

"The Cardassian vessel would give us tactical flexibility," Picard mused. "And the psychological impact on Jellico seeing you return with reinforcements could be significant."

"Precisely, sir," Tyson agreed. "It would demonstrate your resourcefulness and further legitimize your claim to the Commodore rank."

Picard stood and walked to the viewport, gazing at the stars beyond. The task force wasn't visible yet, but they were out there, approaching with deadly intent.

"How confident are you in this transporter modification?" he asked without turning.

"Confident enough to stake my life on it, sir."

Picard mulled it over and finally said, "If you think you can do it. Do it. We'll hold them off or stall until you arrive."

"Thank you, sir," Tyson said with a nod. "I won't let you down."

"Dismissed," Picard said, returning to his desk.

Tyson exited the Ready Room and crossed the bridge. He caught Ro's attention and gave her a subtle nod. She understood immediately and followed him to the turbolift.

"Deck 8," Tyson commanded as the doors closed.

"What's happening?" Ro asked quietly.

"We have a mission," Tyson replied. "One that might give us the edge we need in this fight."

The turbolift hummed as it carried them through the ship. When they arrived at Deck 8, Tyson led Ro quickly through the corridors toward his quarters.

"We're going to retrieve the Cardassian ship from Utopia Planitia," he explained as they walked. "Picard has authorized the mission."

Ro's eyebrows rose. "We're going back to Mars? How? We're nowhere near transporter range."

"I always prepare for contingencies," Tyson replied with a slight smile. "We need to move quickly. The task force will be in weapons range soon."

"You planned this from the beginning," Ro observed.

"Nah. I only had thoughts of a plan from the beginning. Let's go," Tyson said, heading for the door. "We have a ship to steal."

Ro followed him out into the corridor. "Just another day in the Terran Empire," she muttered.

"Did you cure your Blood Fever? You're running out of time," she asked with genuine concern.

"I did," Tyson replied matter-of-factly. "I successfully turned Inquisitor Troi to our side. But we need to move, we can talk about that after we've secured the Galor." He raised his hand, and the air before them shimmered and tore open, revealing a swirling vortex of energy that stabilized into a portal. Through it, they could see the dim, reddish lighting of a Cardassian corridor.

"Let's go," he said, gesturing toward the portal.

Tyson's rapid-fire revelations shook Ro, but she quickly regained her composure. Her hand instinctively checked her phaser before she nodded and headed through the portal. The interior of the Cardassian vessel differed from the design of Terran ships. The corridors curved, with support structures protruding from the walls at regular intervals. The lighting cast everything in a reddish-amber glow. Control panels featured the distinctive Cardassian aesthetic; angular, with protruding edges and a preference for hexagonal shapes. The air carried a distinct musky, almost reptilian odor that permeated the ship. The temperature was noticeably higher than Federation standard, reflecting the Cardassians' preference for warmer environments.

Vicky activated the Gray Goo Suit's sensors, the display overlaying his vision, transmitting to Tyson's HUD. "There are a dozen crewmen spread around the ship in various sections," she reported.

Tyson moved to a nearby console and began tapping at it. The Cardassian text scrolled across the screen as he navigated through the ship's systems. "Seems like they haven't started decommissioning the vessel, they're still cataloguing it... Perfect." He turned to Ro. "I need you to stun all the Terrans on board and circle to Engineering. I'll head to the bridge. Half of the crew is there, and I need control of the vessel."

"We're taking this ship back to the Enterprise. It's our ace in the hole against the task force."

"Understood," Ro said, setting her phaser to stun. "I'll clear Engineering and secure it. Good hunting."

They parted at an intersection, Ro heading aft while Tyson made his way toward the bridge. The ship's layout differed from that of Federation vessels, but the basic principles remained the same, with the bridge positioned forward, engineering located aft, and critical systems protected deep within the vessel's structure.

He encountered no resistance until he reached the bridge access corridor, where a single Terran guard stood watch, looking bored and inattentive. With a quick shot, he stunned the guard before the man could react. The guard crumpled to the floor. Tyson dragged him into an alcove, out of immediate sight, before approaching the bridge doors.

The bridge of the Cardassian vessel was a semicircular chamber dominated by a large viewscreen at the front. The Cardassian design featured multiple levels, with the command chair elevated above the primary operations stations. Six Terran officers occupied various stations, their attention focused on their work. None of them noticed Tyson's entrance until the doors hissed shut behind him.

The officer at the command chair, a lieutenant with a scar running down his left cheek, looked up sharply. "Who the hell are you? This area is restricted to—"

Tyson didn't let him finish. In one fluid motion, thanks to Master With Your Hands, he drew his phaser and fired, the blue energy beam striking the lieutenant square in the chest. The man collapsed back into the command chair, unconscious. The other officers reacted with varying degrees of speed, but none were fast enough. Tyson moved with inhuman quickness, his phaser finding each target with unerring accuracy. The tactical officer managed to half-draw his sidearm before a stun beam caught him in the shoulder, sending him sprawling across his console.

Within seconds, all six bridge officers lay unconscious at their stations or on the deck. Tyson surveyed the bridge, confirming no one remained, then holstered his phaser and moved to the central console.

The command station featured a distinctive Cardassian interface; a combination of touch panels and physical controls arranged in a semicircle around the seated operator. The displays showed Cardassian text, scrolling with system information and status reports. He settled into the command chair and began accessing the ship's systems, his fingers moving confidently across the alien controls.

The main viewscreen flickered to life, showing the interior of the Utopia Planitia docking bay. Through the large bay doors, the red surface of Mars was visible, a stark backdrop to the various ships and construction platforms that made up the shipyard.

Tyson tapped his combadge. "Tyson to Ro. Bridge secured. What's your status?"

Ro replied, "Engineering secured, sir."

A pop-up appeared in his HUD. He accepted the import, and the Galor appeared on his character sheet. Tyson opened the ship menu, reviewing the options now available to him. Since the vessel was still docked at Utopia Planitia, he could make upgrades.

[Free] Import (Spaceships)

Instead of choosing a Ship Type and Size for purchase, import one space-worthy vessel you already own. Its default Section Size and Rating are those of a ship of the corresponding size. At your choice, ship parts you buy can either replace pre-existing parts of the original ship or exist in addition to them.

Galor-Class Destroyer (Spaceships)

Galor-class cruisers are the primary warship used by the Cardassian Union and Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. This is a Type-1 Variant, the weakest iteration.

[100 SP] Ship Size Rating: III

[200 SP] Light Cruiser

[100 SP] Artificial Gravity

[200 SP] Alcubierre Drive

[300 SP] Antimatter Reactor

[50 SP] Navigation Suite

[100 SP] Deflector Shields

[50 SP] Directed Energy Weapons: Disruptors

[100 SP] Non-Specialized Ship Alterations, Direct Energy Weapons (Spiral Wave Disruptor)

Total Adjusted Decommission Value: 600 SP

Tyson examined the ship's specifications with a critical mind. He had 1100 Ship Points that needed to be used in this reality. Anything he purchased would carry over to the Iconic Interceptor. There were a few upgrades that were unique to the Mirror Universe, and Tyson thought he should focus his points there. Additionally, he still didn't have access to the purchases from other realities.

But the question was, was it worth upgrading? This ship was underwhelming. Tyson understood why the Terrans would decommission it. While it was stronger than the Stargazer, it was only because of the Spiral Wave Disruptor. It had nothing else of note. If he weren't locked out of his Personal Reality, away from his other ships, Tyson wouldn't consider keeping it long term. He still wasn't, but he needed it now. The question was, should he upgrade it to make it more combat capable, or just fly it out of the dock, as is.

"Vicky, what's your assessment?"

"The Galor-class is outdated by Federation standards," Vicky replied through his HUD. "However, its baseline capabilities are adequate for our immediate needs."

Tyson nodded, scrolling through the available upgrades. "Ro, how's Engineering looking?"

"Functional," Ro replied. "The warp drive is intact, but I wouldn't push it beyond warp 7. Weapons systems are operational, but targeting sensors could use calibration."

Tyson made his decision. He would invest in key upgrades to make the ship combat-viable against the task force. Time was critical, but so was survival.

He selected several upgrades.

[100 SP] Warp Drive (Spaceships)

The most common form of Faster-Than-Light travel by generating a 'Warp field' that envelops the entire vessel in a bubble of Subspace, ships with this type of drive can travel at dozens to hundreds of times the speed of light with relative ease. All vessels come with a Warp Drive for free, though the maximum speed depends in part on the power, size, and sophistication of the ship's engines. With additional purchases, your ship is retrofitted with more powerful engines, increasing your maximum Warp speed by a factor of two per purchased upgrade. Your vessel's current upgrade level allows it to achieve Warp 9.9.

[50 SP] Reinforced Power Systems (Spaceships)

Though hardly as awe-inspiring as having a second power core or several extra Disruptor arrays, this kind of system-wide upgrade can be worth its weight in Gold-pressed Latinum. During dangerous or unexpected situations, it can be vital to ensure that your ship just... works. Backup power storage and redundant EPS conduits allow your ship to remain functioning even when lesser vessels would have lost entire subsystems to damage, extensive safety systems and emergency containment can minimize the risk to your power generation to vastly reduce the risk of a Warp Core breach or similar incident, and you'll even find your Bridge consoles to be far less prone to explode into the faces of whatever hapless Ensign was seated at them. Safe, stable, reliable. It's not flashy, but robust power can win wars if used well, especially if you decide to embrace the risks anyway and begin running at higher than 100% power...

[50 SP] Torpedo Launchers: Photon Torpedo (Spaceships)

The counterpart to direct energy weapons, torpedoes are heavy missile weapons that can deal a vast amount of damage on impact. However, their 'area of effect' means they are unsuited as precision weapons, and the torpedo's slower speed means it can be more difficult to hit nimble targets.

[50 SP] Sensors: Tachyon Sensors (Spaceships)

Quite versatile but somewhat finicky, conventional sensors can detect a wide range of particles and effects, but often need to be adjusted to a single purpose for maximum effectiveness. As a result, many more esoteric or rare events are not normally scanned for. Conventional sensors can potentially scan as far as a dozen light years out, though doing so requires a substantial amount of time and prevents detecting fine details. Closer distances allow for faster and more accurate readings. All ships come with the basic multi-purpose Sensor package for free. Additional purchases allow you to improve your ship's existing sensor array for improved accuracy and reliability, or can instead be used to install specialized Sensor suites for specific purposes. These systems are vastly superior in range, speed, and accuracy to those that use the normal array, but are obviously only suited for one purpose. These Tachyon sensors are specialized in detecting Cloaking Devices and temporal effects.

[250 SP] Reach: Tractor Beam (Spaceships)

Most larger vessels have some means to interact with other ships, structures, and asteroids, such as the classic 'Tractor Beam' or even just a set of magnetized grappling hooks. However, these systems tend to be fairly weak in most cases; shielded vessels and particularly large or unstable targets can easily disrupt any attempt to move them, if not negate the attempts entirely. This upgrade grants you one such system, with further upgrades providing a more potent design. This could be by enhancing the existing system, by incorporating additional emitters to allow you to more easily haul heavy or dangerous objects around, or similar improvements of your choice. A 'standard' Tractor Beam can move objects of approximately one-quarter of your ship's size and mass. Each purchase doubles these limits and makes the Tractor Beam more stable when used against shielded or esoteric materials. The upper limit of this system is the manipulation of objects approximately four times your ship's size.

Ship Points: 2650 [650 Mirror Universe]

Tyson prioritized the upgrades while using a portion of the allotted Ship Points. The Warp Core upgrades ensured he'd be able to reach the Enterprise in time to help. Reinforced Power Systems seemed like a good idea, given how often consoles exploded in the shows. Torpedo Launchers seemed like a cost-effective offensive upgrade, since the commandeered vessel wasn't already equipped with them. The primary opponents in this universe, besides the Cardassians, were the Klingons, who used Cloaking Devices, hence the sensor upgrades. Lastly, the Reach upgrade was because it wasn't something that he had on the Iconic Interceptor, and it seemed it might come in handy.

The ship's systems began to reconfigure as the upgrades integrated with the existing technology. The bridge lighting flickered momentarily as power systems adjusted to the new configurations.

"Ro, we're getting some significant upgrades," Tyson said over the comm. "You should see changes to the engineering systems momentarily."

"Already seeing them," Ro confirmed. "Power output just spiked by eighty percent. What did you do?"

"Made this ship combat-ready. We're going to need every advantage we can get."

On the main viewscreen, Tyson could see Terran engineers outside the ship noticing the unexpected activity. They were pointing and shouting, some running toward communication panels.

"We need to move," Tyson said. "Ro, prepare for immediate departure. Vicky, how long until we can break dock?"

"Docking clamps are still engaged," Vicky reported. "We can override from here, but it will trigger alarms throughout the facility."

"They're already alarmed," Tyson noted dryly, watching the increasing activity outside. "Disengage docking clamps on my mark."

He moved to the helm station, familiarizing himself with the Cardassian controls. They were different from Federation designs, with a greater emphasis on tactical systems integration and less automation.

"Ro, I need impulse power," Tyson called.

"Impulse engines coming online," Ro replied. "We'll have full power in twenty seconds."

Tyson watched as the final upgrade integrations completed. The ship's systems reported ready status across all departments. The new targeting array came online, highlighting potential threats in the docking bay. Security personnel gathering near the main entrance, weapons drawn.

"Mark," Tyson commanded.

The docking clamps released with a heavy metallic clunk that reverberated through the hull. Warning klaxons immediately began blaring throughout the facility, visible through the viewscreen as flashing red lights.

"Full impulse, aft thrusters," Tyson ordered, his hands moving across the helm controls.

The Cardassian vessel shuddered as its engines engaged. It began to move backward, away from the docking cradle. Through the viewscreen, Tyson could see Terran security forces firing handheld phasers at the ship, the energy beams dissipating harmlessly against the newly enhanced shields.

"Shields holding," Vicky reported.

The ship cleared the docking bay, emerging into the open space above Mars. Tyson swung the vessel around, bringing its nose toward open space.

"Setting course for the Enterprise's position," Tyson announced. "Prepare for warp."

"Warp drive online," Ro confirmed. "Ready when you are."

Tyson engaged the warp drive, and the stars on the viewscreen stretched into streaks of light as the Cardassian vessel leapt into subspace.

"ETA to the Enterprise's position?" Tyson asked.

"Three minutes at maximum warp," Vicky replied.

"That should put us there in time for the party," Tyson said with grim satisfaction. "Ro, come up to the bridge."

— Star Jumper —

As the fleet of Terran starships arrived, the Enterprise received a hail from the Stargazer. The viewscreen flickered to life, revealing Captain Jellico's stern face.

"I'm here to back you, Commodore," Jellico informed.

Picard settled back in his command chair, satisfaction evident in his posture. "Excellent. Join us in formation, Captain."

The Stargazer pulled up closer to the Enterprise and faced the other incoming ships. The Terran ships maintained a cautious distance, weapons powered but not targeting.

"Sir, the Yamaguchi is opening hailing frequencies," Data announced from his station.

Picard straightened his uniform. "On screen."

Captain Marcelo Libório of the Yamaguchi appeared, but the man who stepped into view beside him commanded immediate attention. Admiral Hanson, his weathered face creased with disapproval, moved to the center of the screen.

"What were you thinking, Picard? Taking over the Enterprise?" Hanson demanded.

The commodore rose from his chair, squaring his shoulders. "The Enterprise needed a strong leader, someone capable of making the hard decisions. I'm that leader, Admiral."

Jellico's image joined the viewscreen in a split display. "Commodore Picard is right. He has my support."

Hanson paused, processing the implications. The bridge crew waited as he turned to speak to an officer off-screen. "Ops, stand down from red alert." The admiral returned his attention to the viewscreen. "If you have Jellico's support, I'll allow the change of command. But don't think this means you're off the hook. We're going to discuss this self-field-promotion to Commodore."

"I look forward to our discussion, Admiral," came the smooth reply.

Data's voice cut through their conversation. "Captain, long-range sensors are detecting more incoming vessels." His hands moved rapidly over his console. "The vessels are Cardassian, Captain."

The momentary relief vanished as the tactical display updated to show the approaching Cardassian warships.

"It seems the Spoonheads want a piece of us as well," Picard declared, his voice hardening. He turned to address the bridge crew. "Let's show them just how foolish their decision is. Battle stations. We'll fight alongside the impromptu fleet and crush our enemies together."

"Sir, the Cardassian fleet consists of six Galor-class warships. They're formidable, but with our combined forces, we have the advantage."

"The Cardassians are feeling confident, even arrogant," Inquisitor Troi reported. "They believe they can exploit what they perceive as internal conflict within our forces."

"Their overconfidence will be their undoing," Picard responded coldly.

Admiral Hanson's face appeared on screen. "Picard, what's your assessment?"

"They're attempting to capitalize on what they believe is our disunity," he explained. "I suggest we form a crescent formation, with the Enterprise at the center. The Stargazer and Yamaguchi can take flanking positions. Data, open a channel to all Terran vessels."

Hanson nodded. "Agreed."

Data reported, "The Cardassian vessels are moving into attack formation. They will be within weapons range in three minutes."

"Shields at maximum," Riker ordered. "Charge all phaser banks and load photon torpedoes."

When the channel was established, Picard addressed the fleet. "This is Commodore Picard. The Cardassians believe they can exploit perceived weakness in our ranks. Today, we will demonstrate the price of such presumption. Maintain formation and prepare to engage on my mark."

The viewscreen displayed the approaching Cardassian fleet made of their distinctive Galor-class cruisers. Six warships moved in perfect formation against the backdrop of stars. The Enterprise bridge crew watched as the vessels drew closer.

The tactical console emitted a series of rapid beeps. "They're charging weapons systems and raising shields," Data reported.

The commodore stood from his command chair, tugging at his uniform as he positioned himself squarely before the viewscreen. The Enterprise's shields were already up.

"Time to weapons range?"

"Two minutes, seventeen seconds," Data replied from his station, working the controls with inhuman precision.

Riker moved to stand beside his captain, arms crossed over his chest. "They're being awfully bold, approaching a Terran fleet of this size."

"The Cardassians have never lacked for audacity," Picard observed dryly. "What they sometimes lack is wisdom."

The lead Cardassian vessel suddenly slowed its approach, taking position at the head of their formation.

"Sir, we're being hailed," Data announced.

"On screen."

The viewscreen shifted from the external view to reveal the bridge of the Cardassian vessel. At its center stood a gray-skinned figure with distinctive neck ridges and an expression of smug confidence.

Gul Dukat regarded the Enterprise bridge. "Captain Picard, we meet again. I must admit, I'm not surprised to find you in command of an unknown Terran Warship. You always were drawn to power."

"Gul Dukat, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I'm here to demand your surrender, Captain. Hand over the warship, and we will allow your fleet to depart unharmed. Resist, and you'll face the full might of the Cardassian Union."

As the bridge crew exchanged uneasy glances, their commander remained composed. "You know as well as I do that we won't surrender without a fight, Dukat. Are you prepared to face the consequences?"

"Oh, Captain, I've been looking forward to this moment. You have no idea how satisfying it will be to crush the pride of the Terran Empire beneath my heel."

The bridge atmosphere grew tense as both sides braced for the impending confrontation. Troi leaned toward Riker, keeping her voice low. "He's confident, but there's... uncertainty beneath the surface."

Riker nodded slightly, understanding her meaning. "He's bluffing."

"Your threats would be more convincing if they weren't so predictable, Dukat," Picard responded dismissively. "The Alliance has always overestimated its capabilities."

The Cardassian's features hardened. "You mistake confidence for arrogance, Captain. A common failing among Terrans."

"And you mistake bluster for strength," came the counter. "A common failing among Cardassians."

As Captain Picard and Gul Dukat engaged in posturing and political banter, the navigation console at the front of the bridge beeped urgently.

Data reported, "Sir, another Cardassian vessel incoming, Galor-class."

Picard remained outwardly impassive, while Gul Dukat quickly tried to mask his confusion, glancing at someone off-screen.

"One of yours, Dukat?" Picard inquired smoothly. "Or have your forces grown so undisciplined that they arrive late?"

Dukat's jaw tightened. "All Cardassian vessels are under my command, Picard. This changes nothing."

Data continued his analysis, voice level. "Sir, they've dropped out of warp in a flanking position, opposite the Cardassian fleet."

The tactical display updated to show the new arrival's position, perfectly placed to catch Dukat's forces in a crossfire between it and the Terran fleet.

The commodore injected strain into his voice. "A clever ploy, Dukat, but one more Galor won't make a difference against our fleet."

Data muted the transmission and turned to his commander. "Sir, the Cardassian vessel only has two lifesigns, one Bajoran, one human. It's Commander Tyson. He's hailing us."

"Audio only."

Tyson's voice came through, clear and confident. "Commodore, adding another ship to your fleet. The Galor is under our control and ready for your orders."

A satisfied smile crossed Picard's lips. "Welcome back, Inquisitor, just in time for the party."

"Sir, this vessel has tachyon sensors, and I'm picking up unusual readings," Tyson reported.

Picard nodded, his mind already calculating possibilities. "Investigate at your discretion. Good luck, Commander. Enterprise out."

He nodded to Data, who resumed the communication with Dukat. The Cardassian's face reappeared on screen, uncertainty now tainting his features as he glanced at something they couldn't see.

"Is there a problem, Dukat?"

"No problem at all, Captain. Merely confirming our tactical positioning."

"Of course," Picard replied, not bothering to hide his skepticism. "I'm sure your forces are as well-coordinated as you claim."

On the captured Cardassian vessel, Ro sat at the helm. The bridge was eerily quiet with just her presence. Tyson had left for the transporter room.

"Vicky, are you integrated with the ship's systems?"

"Integration at seventy-eight percent," Vicky's disembodied voice replied. "I have control of weapons, shields, and propulsion. Communications are still problematic. But I have sensors. Tachyon sensors indicate there are 6 cloaked vessels nearby."

"Keep working on communications," Ro instructed. "We need to maintain the illusion that we're part of Dukat's fleet."

Back on the Enterprise bridge, the verbal sparring continued. "Captain, you always were a thorn in our side," Dukat said, condescension dripping from his words. "But your stubbornness won't save you now. My fleet is superior in both numbers and firepower. Your new toy is no match for us."

The tactical display updated again as Data continued his scans. "Sir, the Cardassian vessels are adjusting their formation. They appear to be creating a pocket formation, likely to draw us in."

Riker studied the display, recognizing the pattern from Academy tactical courses. "A classic envelopment strategy. They want us to commit our forces to the center."

Picard nodded slightly, keeping his attention on Dukat. "Your tactical maneuvers are as transparent as your rhetoric, Gul Dukat. Did you truly believe we wouldn't notice?"

The Cardassian's smile didn't reach past his lips. "Notice what, Captain? We're simply taking up standard combat positions. Unless, of course, you're seeing phantoms now."

"The only phantom here is the illusion of your superiority," Picard retorted. "An illusion that will be shattered soon enough."

"Bold words. I look forward to making you eat them, Captain, along with your misplaced pride."

—Star Jumper —

In a shimmer of light, Tyson materialized inside the Klingon Bird of Prey. The vessel was running with minimal lighting, clearly in stealth mode. He moved silently through the corridor. He had his Lightsaber and his phaser pistol, but he didn't have the Gray Goo Suit, having left Vicky with Ro for protection. As the suit, Vicky could still open portals, in case Ro needed to evacuate to the Enterprise or Stargazer, or anywhere else they'd visited in this universe. He wouldn't leave her to die in an unmanned Cardassian vessel.

Two Klingon officers rounded the corner ahead, deep in conversation.

"The Cardassians are fools," one growled. "They believe we will honor our agreement to share the spoils."

The other laughed harshly. "Once the Terrans are engaged, we will decloak and strike. By the time Dukat realizes our betrayal, it will be too late. We will claim the new warship for the House of Duras."

Tyson rolled his eyes and slipped into an adjacent corridor. The Klingons had their own agenda. The House of Duras was familiar; treacherous for Klingons, opportunistic, and without honor. At least that's how they were portrayed in the shows he recalled.

He needed more information. This could work to his advantage, or complicate matters further. Either way, he needed to know their exact plan.

Using his empathy and the Force, Tyson sensed the positions of the Klingon crew members throughout the ship. He closed his consciousness to the physical world, focusing on the ebb and flow of emotions that radiated from each warrior. Anger, anticipation, bloodlust; typical Klingon emotions on the eve of imminent battle. He navigated around them, moving like a shadow through the corridors.

After several tense minutes of avoiding patrols, he reached the bridge. Through a small viewport in the door, he assessed the scene before him.

The Bird of Prey bridge was smaller than Federation vessels, designed for efficiency rather than comfort. The captain's chair dominated the center, elevated on a small platform to emphasize authority. Currently, a broad-shouldered Klingon with a silver-streaked beard occupied it. Tactical stations flanked both sides, manned by warriors. The main viewscreen displayed a tactical overlay of space, showing the positions of several vessels, the Cardassian ships, including the one Tyson had just commandeered, the ISS Enterprise, and the Terran vessels. Status displays in harsh Klingon script flashed with information about weapons readiness, shield strength, and cloak integrity.

Eight Klingons on the bridge. The captain, a communications officer, two at tactical, one at navigation, and three others monitoring various systems. All armed with disruptors and knives. The captain was issuing orders in a guttural voice while studying a tactical display.

Time to act.

Tyson pressed his palm against the door control. The bridge entrance hissed open. Before the Klingons could fully register his presence, he raised his phaser and fired two rapid shots. The first struck the captain square in the chest, sending him tumbling backward over his command chair. The second caught the tactical officer, who had immediately reached for his disruptor, the bolt hitting him in the shoulder and spinning him to the deck.

"Intruder!" The navigation officer bellowed, drawing his knife. Two others followed suit.

Tyson holstered his phaser. He could have drawn his Lightsaber and ended this in seconds, but there was a chance he could command respect from these Klingons; he needed to beat them at their own game.

The first Klingon lunged at him, knife aimed at his throat. Tyson sidestepped, grabbing the warrior's wrist and twisting sharply. Bones cracked. The Klingon howled but didn't drop his weapon. Tyson slammed his elbow into the warrior's face, feeling the crunch of a nasal ridge giving way under the impact.

The second attacker came from his right, slashing in a wide arc. Tyson ducked under the blade, driving his fist into the Klingon's solar plexus, or where it would be on a human. The warrior grunted but didn't falter.

"You fight well for a human," the Klingon snarled, blood staining his teeth.

Tyson didn't waste breath on a reply. He blocked another knife thrust, caught the Klingon's arm, and used the warrior's momentum to throw him into a control panel. Sparks erupted as the console discharged energy, ensuring he was out of the fight.

The third Klingon circled more cautiously. The communications officer had abandoned her post and was moving toward a weapons locker. Tyson kicked a broken piece of equipment at her, causing her to stumble. He momentarily ignored the wary Klingon and closed the distance with the comm officer to deliver a precise strike to her neck. She collapsed, unconscious but alive.

The remaining bridge officers had all abandoned their consoles to engage him. Two had drawn disruptors.

Tyson spun, sweeping the legs out from under one of the knife-wielding Klingons. As the warrior fell, he grabbed his arm and twisted, forcing him to drop the weapon. He kicked it away, then delivered a powerful blow to the Klingon's temple.

A disruptor beam sizzled past his ear, close enough that he felt its heat. Tyson rolled behind a console, then sprang up on the opposite side, catching the shooter by surprise. He leapt over the console, landing a flying kick that sent the disruptor skittering across the deck. The Klingon recovered quickly, roaring as he threw a wild punch with far more strength than finesse.

Tyson caught the fist in his palm. The warrior's shock was palpable as his punch was held. He twisted the Klingon's arm behind his back, then drove him face-first into the bulkhead. The warrior slumped to the floor, leaving a smear of blood on the metal.

The navigation officer had retrieved his captain's bat'leth from the command chair. He swung the curved blade in a practiced pattern, his stance showing years of training.

"You dishonor us by refusing to draw your weapon," he growled.

"I honor you by fighting as a warrior," Tyson countered, circling slowly. "A true warrior doesn't need technology to prove his worth."

A flicker of respect passed in the Klingon's demeanor, yet still, the bat'leth whistled through the air as the officer attacked.

Tyson focused, letting the Force guide his movements. He dodged one swing, ducked under another, and stepped inside the Klingon's guard. The bat'leth required space to be effective. In close quarters, it became unwieldy.

He struck the Klingon's wrists with a precise chop. The warrior's grip loosened involuntarily. Tyson grabbed the bat'leth by its center grip, wrenching it from the Klingon's hands and spinning it around to point at its owner's throat.

"Yield," Tyson commanded.

The Klingon stared at him, breathing heavily. Blood trickled from a cut above one ridge. "I will not beg for my life like a Ferengi."

"I don't want your life," Tyson said. "I want information."

The last Klingon standing had been edging toward an emergency control panel. Tyson sensed the movement and, without looking, threw the bat'leth. It embedded itself in the panel inches from the Klingon's hand, showering him with sparks.

"That was your only warning."

The bridge fell silent except for the groans of the injured and the hiss of damaged systems. Six Klingons down, two still conscious but subdued. Tyson had taken control of the bridge in less than two minutes.

He walked to the captain's chair, stepping over the unconscious form of its previous occupant, and sat down. The remaining Klingons watched him with a mixture of hatred and reluctant respect.

"Now," Tyson said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority, "tell me about your arrangement with the Cardassians and your plans for the Terran vessels."

The navigation officer straightened his posture, wincing slightly from his injuries. "Why should we tell you anything? You are not Klingon. You have no honor stake in this conflict."

"I have every stake," Tyson replied. "And I just defeated eight Klingon warriors without drawing my primary weapon. I think that earns me the right to some answers."

The Klingon who had reached for the emergency panel spat blood onto the deck. "The human fights well. Perhaps we should hear what he wants before we kill him."

Tyson smiled thinly. "That's the spirit. Let's start with the basics. You're planning to betray both the Cardassians and ambush the Terrans. I want to know exactly how and when."

The navigation officer exchanged glances with his comrade, then nodded grudgingly. "Our orders come directly from the House of Duras. We are to wait until the Terran ships engage the Cardassians, then decloak and attack the victor while they are weakened from battle."

"And your primary target?"

"The new Terran vessel. It represents a significant advancement in their technology. With it, the House of Duras could challenge the High Council itself."

"Who leads this operation? Who commands your fleet?"

The navigation officer's jaw clenched, reluctance evident in every line of his body.

"Duras is dead," the other Klingon finally said, earning a murderous glare from his comrade. "He was killed in ritual combat."

"Then who?" Tyson pressed. "Someone must be giving the orders. Someone must be coordinating your ships." He gestured to the tactical display, which showed five other Birds of Prey positioned strategically around the area. "You're not acting alone."

The navigation officer growled low in his throat, clearly unhappy with the direction of the conversation. "Why do you care who leads us? What is your stake in this conflict?"

Tyson stood, moving to the tactical station. The unconscious officer who had manned it was slumped on the floor. He accessed the controls, bringing up more detailed information about the other Klingon vessels.

"Because," he said without looking up, "I need to know who I'm dealing with. If I'm going to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, I need to understand the players involved."

"Prevent bloodshed?" The Klingon laughed harshly. "You are either a fool or a liar. There is no preventing what is to come. The House of Duras will have that ship, and anyone who stands in our way will die gloriously in battle."

Tyson turned, fixing the warrior with a penetrating stare. "Who. Leads. Your. Fleet?"

The Klingon matched his stare defiantly. Seconds stretched into a full minute of tense silence.

"The sisters," the other Klingon suddenly said.

The navigation officer whirled on him. "Silence, you petaQ! You dishonor yourself!"

"He defeated us in combat," the second Klingon argued. "He has earned the right to know who he faces."

Tyson raised an eyebrow. "Sisters?"

The second Klingon nodded, ignoring the murderous glare from his comrade. "Lursa and B'Etor. The sisters of Duras. They lead our House now."

"Women?" Tyson asked, feigning surprise. He remembered them from the show. Ironically, it was the Duras sisters who were responsible for for the Enterprise's destruction in the movie Generations.

Was that irony or an omen?

The navigation officer sneered. "Do not underestimate them because they are female. They are cunning and ruthless. They orchestrated this entire operation."

"And where are they now?"

"Aboard the lead vessel," the second Klingon said, gesturing to the tactical display.

Tyson studied the display more carefully. The Bortas was positioned farther back than the other Birds of Prey, commanding a view of the entire battlefield without exposing itself to immediate danger. A commander's position.

"They wait until everyone else has bloodied each other, then swoop in for the kill," Tyson murmured.

"It is the way of our House," the navigation officer said, pride entering his voice despite his earlier reluctance. "We achieve victory through strategy, not blind aggression like the House of Mogh and their ilk."

"Some might call that cowardice," Tyson observed.

The navigation officer lunged forward, only to be restrained by his comrade. "You dare question our honor?"

"I question your methods," Tyson replied calmly. "True warriors face their enemies openly, not hide behind cloaking devices and deception."

"You know nothing of Klingon honor," the officer spat. "The House of Duras serves the Empire in our own way. The sisters understand that victory is what matters, not the path taken to achieve it."

"Tell me about these sisters," Tyson said, returning to the captain's chair. "What kind of leaders are they?"

The second Klingon seemed more willing to talk now. "Lursa is the elder. Cold, calculating. She plans our strategies, anticipates our enemies' moves. B'Etor is more... passionate. She handles our alliances, using her charms to secure advantageous positions."

"And they work well together?"

"Like two edges of the same bat'leth," the warrior confirmed. "Where one is weak, the other is strong. Together, they are formidable."

"What exactly do they plan to do with the Enterprise once they capture it?"

"Use it against the Klingon High Council," the second Klingon explained. "Chancellor K'mpec grows old and weak. Duras House is not well-respected in the Empire. But the sisters believe the time is right to challenge his rule. With a vessel of such power at their command, few would stand against them."

"And the Cardassians? What do they get out of this arrangement?"

The navigation officer shrugged. "They believe we will help them destroy the Terran fleet, allowing them to expand their territory. They are fools."

Tyson nodded slowly, seeing the full scope of the plan. But there was an opportunity here. Duras was a thorn in the Prime Universe, but if here, they incited a civil war, it would weaken the Klingon Empire significantly. Was that what he wanted? With the Enterprise, the Klingons' infighting, the Terrans could rapidly regain territory. It certainly wouldn't be following the Prime Directive's noninterference mandate. Or was it? He recalled there was a Klingon Civil War during The Next Generation, likely because of the Chancellor's death, or something involving Duras... It always was.

Tyson drummed his fingers on the armrest of the captain's chair, considering his options. The pieces were falling into place, but he needed to act quickly.

"Can we open a communication channel with Duras, without compromising our cloak?"

The navigation officer looked surprised at the question. "We can. Our ships are equipped with secure quantum entanglement communicators for precisely this purpose. We can speak to the sisters without revealing our position."

"Contact the lead ship," Tyson ordered.

The navigation officer hesitated, looking to his comrade for guidance. The second Klingon gave a slight nod. With obvious reluctance, the navigation officer moved to the communications console.

"You realize they will know something is wrong when they see you," he said as he worked the controls.

"Let me worry about that," Tyson replied. He straightened in the chair, adjusting his posture to project authority. "Just make the connection."

The viewscreen flickered, then resolved into an image of another Klingon bridge. Two women stood at its center, both wearing elaborate armor adorned with the insignia of the House of Duras. They were striking in their own way, with sharp features and boob-windows in their armor.

The elder of the two stepped forward, studying the scene on Tyson's bridge. "What is this? Where is Captain Kang?" Her voice was cold, precise.

"I'm afraid Captain Kang is indisposed at the moment," Tyson replied calmly. "I've taken command of this vessel."

The younger sister, presumably B'Etor, moved to stand beside her sibling. "A human? On a Klingon bridge? This is an outrage!" Her voice was huskier, with a dangerous edge.

"You must be Lursa and B'Etor," Tyson said, inclining his head slightly. "I've heard much about you. Your reputation precedes you."

"And you are?"

"Inquisitor Tyson, of the ISS Enterprise."

The sisters exchanged glances. B'Etor's hand moved to the disruptor at her hip. "A Terran spy? How did you find us? How did you penetrate our cloak?"

"I'm not here as your enemy," Tyson assured them. "In fact, I believe we may be able to help each other."

"Help each other?" Lursa repeated skeptically. "You've attacked one of our ships, incapacitated our warriors, and now you speak of help? Explain yourself quickly before I order your destruction."

He leaned forward in the chair. "I know about your plan to seize the Enterprise after we engage the Cardassians. I know you intend to use it to challenge K'mpec and the High Council."

B'Etor hissed, her hand tightening on her weapon. "He knows too much. We should kill him now."

"Wait," Lursa said, raising a hand to restrain her sister. Her calculating gaze never left Tyson. "How did you come by this information?"

"That's not important," Tyson replied. "What matters is what I'm offering."

"And what could you possibly offer the House of Duras?"

"Terran backing for your claim to lead the High Council."

The sisters stared at him in silence for a long moment. Even B'Etor seemed taken aback by the boldness of his offer.

"You speak as if you have the authority to make such promises," Lursa finally said.

"I have the ear of Commodore Picard," Tyson countered. "And he values my counsel. The Enterprise is the most powerful ship in the Terran fleet. With it comes considerable influence."

"Why would the Terrans support a Klingon House?" B'Etor demanded. "What do you gain from this arrangement?"

"Stability," Tyson answered simply. "The Terran Empire has been weakened, pushed back by the Alliance. We need time to rebuild. A strong, unified Klingon Empire under leadership friendly to Terran interests would provide that time."

Something calculating flickered in Lursa's features. "And you believe the House of Duras would be 'friendly' to Terran interests?"

"I believe the House of Duras is pragmatic," Tyson said. "You understand the value of alliances, even temporary ones. You've already demonstrated that with the Cardassians."

B'Etor laughed, a harsh sound. "Yes, our 'allies' the Cardassians."

"Exactly," Tyson agreed. "And now I'm offering you a more valuable alliance. All you need to do is leave the Cardassians to their battle with the Terrans."

"And allow you to claim victory?" Lursa asked.

"Allow us to weaken each other," Tyson corrected. "The Cardassians still believe you will aid them. Let them continue to believe that. When they engage us, stay cloaked. Let us fight. Then, when the battle is decided, we can discuss terms."

The sisters conferred quietly, speaking in rapid Klingon. Tyson waited patiently, knowing they were weighing the potential benefits against the risks.

"What guarantee do we have that you won't simply destroy us once the Cardassians are defeated?" Lursa finally asked.

"The same guarantee I have that you won't attack us the moment we're vulnerable," Tyson replied. "Mutual interest. Besides, I'm not asking you to decloak or reveal your positions. Maintain your tactical advantage. Just don't interfere when we engage the Cardassians."

"And if we agree to this arrangement, what exactly would Terran 'backing' entail?"

"After winning this battle, and make no mistake, the Enterprise is formidable enough to handle both yours and the Cardassian fleets, the Terrans will avoid pushing back into Duras-controlled space. Perhaps we could be persuaded to engage your enemies vying for control of the High Council."

Interest gleamed in Lursa's features. "The House of Mogh has long been an obstacle to our ambitions. They have the ear of K'mpec... What do you expect in return, beyond our non-interference in your battle with the Cardassians?"

"Keeping the Klingons out of our disputes with the Cardassians. Only a token effort, maintaining whatever treaties you have."

The sisters exchanged another look, this one longer and more considering.

"You offer much, Terran," Lursa said slowly. "Perhaps too much."

"I seek what you seek," Tyson replied. "Power, security, and the elimination of mutual enemies. Our goals align more than you might think."

B'Etor studied him with new interest. "You do not speak like a typical Terran officer. There is something... different about you."

"I've learned that understanding one's potential allies is as important as understanding one's enemies," Tyson said. "The House of Duras appreciates this philosophy, I believe."

Lursa nodded slowly. "We do. It has served us well." She straightened, coming to a decision. "Very well, Inquisitor Tyson. We will consider your proposal. We will not interfere when you engage the Cardassians."

"A wise choice," Tyson said. "I look forward to our future discussions."

"Do not mistake our agreement for trust," B'Etor warned. "We will be watching closely."

"I would expect nothing less," Tyson replied with a slight smile. "After all, trust must be earned... on both sides."

– Star Jumper –

The ships of the Cardassian fleet aligned in formation. Their lead ship positioned directly in front of the Galaxy-X class vessel. Unbeknownst to them, this provided the perfect target for the Enterprise's Phaser Lance.

"Fire!" Picard ordered.

Data compiled. His android precision guided each movement across the console. A surge of brilliant energy erupted from underneath the saucer and punctured the lead Cardassian vessel. The beam sheared through the hull, crippling the ship and leaving it adrift.

Tyson watched from his station, grim satisfaction settling in his chest. The Phaser Lance exceeded even his expectations. The weapon had punched through Cardassian shields as if they were tissue paper.

"Target neutralized, Commodore," Data reported.

"Excellent. Mr. Riker, bring us about. Let's show them what this ship can really do."

Simultaneously, on the Stargazer, Jellico attacked a second Cardassian vessel. He wasn't alone. The rest of the Terran Empire fleet joined the assault. His familiarity with Cardassian tactics allowed him to anticipate their maneuvers. He waited for the opportune moment, then unleashed phaser turrets and a single photon torpedo. The enemy ship shuddered, hull singed, shields collapsed, engines disabled. The ship survived, but it wouldn't contribute to the battle.

Riker observed, "The Stargazer performs better than I expected under Jellico's command."

"He may be a bastard, but he knows how to fight," Picard conceded. "The Cardassians underestimated our response."

Troi approached from behind, keeping her voice low. "The Cardassian commanders are panicking. Their confidence is evaporating."

Commander Riker spun the Enterprise into a forward roll, a variation of attack pattern gamma that simultaneously evaded enemy fire and utilized the ship's unique weapon layout. The maneuver brought both front and rear into firing position, allowing the Enterprise to unleash its potent rapid-fire torpedo launchers on the unsuspecting Cardassians.

"Multiple direct hits," Data announced. "Cardassian vessels three and five have suffered critical damage to their primary systems."

The devastating maneuver caused two Galor-class ships to vanish in displays of fire and debris. The initial salvo was over, and the Terrans had seized the upper hand.

"Incoming fire," Barclay called out. "Multiple disruptor blasts targeting our port nacelle."

The Enterprise shuddered as Cardassian weapons found their mark. Inertial dampeners struggled to compensate, forcing the bridge crew to brace against their stations.

"Shields holding at sixty-seven percent," Data reported. "No significant damage to the port nacelle."

Picard straightened in his chair. "Mr. LaForge, divert additional power to the forward shields. Mr. Riker, bring us about for another pass."

"Aye, Commodore," Riker responded.

The Cardassians retaliated with concentrated fire. Their remaining vessels focused their attack on the Enterprise, recognizing it as the primary threat. Disruptor beams and torpedoes streaked across the void, some finding their mark against the Enterprise's shields.

Barclay monitored the tactical display, noting formation adjustments. "They're attempting to regroup, Commodore. Two vessels are moving to protect their flagship."

"Predictable," Picard said with a cold smile. "Mr. Data, target torpedoes on those escort vessels."

"Targeting systems locked," Data confirmed. "Torpedo tubes loaded and ready."

"Fire at will."

When the rapid-fire photon torpedo tubes reloaded, the Enterprise fired a salvo at the two remaining Cardassian vessels. The void briefly lit with twin novas as the ships crumbled under destructive force, hulls shattering and scattering into space.

"Direct hits on both targets," Data reported. "Cardassian vessels have been destroyed."

Picard nodded with satisfaction. "Status of the remaining forces?"

"Three vessels remain operational but disabled," Data replied. "Including the lead ship."

"Not today." Picard's voice carried finality. "Mr. Riker, pursuit course. Mr. Data, prepare the Phaser Lance for another strike."

"Precision strike to their propulsion and weapons systems," he continued. "Leave their life support and computer core intact. We could board them and extract intelligence before either dragging them back to Utopia Planitia, since we owe them one, or adding them to the fleet."

"Recalibrating targeting parameters," Data confirmed. "Ready to fire on your command."

"Fire."

Phasers sliced through the Cardassian lead ship's aft section, disabling its warp drive. Secondary explosions rippled along weapons arrays, leaving it powerless and defenseless.

"Target neutralized," Data reported. "Targeting the next vessel, sir."

"Sir, we're receiving a communication," Barclay reported. "It appears to be coming from a cloaked vessel." He paused, surprise evident. "It claims to be from... Inquisitor Tyson."

Picard exchanged a quick glance with Troi, who nodded almost imperceptibly. The bridge crew tensed, attention shifting to the main viewscreen.

"On screen."

The viewscreen flickered, and Tyson's face appeared. He sat on what appeared to be the bridge of a Klingon vessel. The distinctive architecture of curved metal and red lighting was unmistakable. Behind him, several Klingon warriors moved about their stations, seemingly unconcerned by his presence.

"Commodore," Tyson greeted through the bridge speakers. "I see you've handled the Cardassian situation quite effectively."

"We've managed," Picard replied coolly. "Your absence was noted during the battle."

Tyson's smile carried subtle amusement. "I've been pursuing a different opportunity. One that I believe will prove valuable to our current position." He gestured to his surroundings. "I've infiltrated a Klingon vessel and negotiated a ceasefire with House Duras."

Riker straightened, clearly recognizing the significance. "House Duras? They've been vying for control of the High Council for years."

"Precisely," Tyson confirmed. "They're willing to offer us a cease-fire. In exchange, they request our backing in their efforts to control the Chancellor seat."

"A tall order," Picard said, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

"Yes," Tyson replied, "but one that could pay off significantly. The Klingons were prepared to engage us, assuming the battle with the Cardassians would weaken us."

Data turned from his station. "That would explain the unusual subspace readings we detected earlier. They were consistent with a large number of cloaked vessels."

"How did you manage to get aboard a Klingon vessel?" Riker asked, suspicion clear in his tone.

Tyson's smile widened slightly. "I have my methods, Commander. Suffice it to say, the Klingons of House Duras are impressed enough with our display of power that they're willing to consider alliance rather than risk confrontation."

Picard considered the implications, fingers drumming once against his armrest. "And what exactly would this alliance entail?"

"Initially, non-aggression," Tyson explained. "They'll withdraw their forces and allow us to consolidate our position. Long-term, they're interested in Terrans targeting their enemies as we begin regaining lost territories."

Picard weighed the proposal carefully. "The Klingons are not known for trustworthiness, particularly House Duras. Their reputation for treachery precedes them."

"True," Tyson acknowledged, "but they respect strength and cunning. Our destruction of the Cardassian fleet has earned their attention. They believe an alliance serves their interests better than conflict."

A Klingon warrior appeared briefly at Tyson's side, growling something in his native tongue. Tyson responded fluently in Klingon before turning back to the viewscreen.

"I'll be returning command to Captain Kurn shortly."

"Kurn?" Riker's surprise was evident. "Brother of Worf, son of Mogh. His house has been rivals with Duras for generations."

"The political landscape has shifted," Tyson explained. "Kurn now serves House Duras, at least officially. Internal Klingon politics are... fluid at the moment."

Picard rose from his chair, tugging at his uniform. "Very well, I'll speak with Admiral Hanson about this proposal. Feel free to return. Tell the Klingons we've sated our thirst for battle today."

Tyson nodded. "Understood, Commodore. I'll return to the Enterprise within the hour. Tyson out."

The viewscreen returned to the image of disabled Cardassian vessels floating against the backdrop of stars.

"Opinions?" Picard asked, looking around at his senior officers.

Riker crossed his arms. "An alliance with the Klingons could provide additional firepower and a buffer against Imperial retaliation."

"But House Duras cannot be trusted," Data added. "Historical records indicate seventeen instances of betrayal against allies in the past decade alone."

Troi's expression grew thoughtful. "Tyson's emotions were... controlled. He believes this alliance has merit, but there's something he didn't mention."

"There usually is," Picard replied dryly. "Nevertheless, his initiative has prevented a potentially costly battle with the Klingons. That alone deserves consideration."

Barclay cleared his throat nervously. "Sir, the lead Cardassian vessel is hailing us. Gul Dukat is requesting terms of surrender."

"Perfect timing," Picard said with a cold smile. "Mr. Data, prepare a boarding party. I want their command codes and navigational data. Mr. LaForge, assess their ships for salvageable technology."

"Aye, sir," they responded in unison.

Picard turned to Riker. "Number One, contact the Stargazer. Inform Captain Jellico that we'll be taking possession of the Cardassian vessels. His crew can assist with securing the prisoners."

"And what of Tyson's Klingon proposal?" Riker asked.

"For now, we accept their ceasefire. As for a formal alliance..." He paused, considering. "Let's see what Tyson has to say when he returns. I'm curious to learn exactly how he managed to infiltrate a Klingon vessel and negotiate with one of their most powerful houses."

— Star Jumper —

The remains of the once-formidable Cardassian fleet lay scattered. Two Galor-class ships remained disabled, their compatriots destroyed. The Klingon Birds of Prey had withdrawn under cloak, and Tyson had relinquished command of the vessel he'd commandeered. From the bridge of the Enterprise, he surveyed the aftermath displayed on the main viewscreen.

"Damage report," Picard commanded.

Data turned from his console. "Minimal damage to our primary systems, Captain. Weapons at full capacity."

"And our prize?" He gestured toward the viewscreen where the captured Cardassian vessel floated amid the wreckage.

"The Yamaguchi reports the vessel is secure," Riker said. "Engineering teams are already aboard assessing salvage potential."

Such a decisive triumph had not been seen in the Empire for decades, and Picard understood the implications of their success.

"Inquisitor Tyson," Picard called without turning. "Your assessment of our victory?"

"We have shown the Cardassians the Terran Empire's strength." He paused, scanning the faces of the bridge crew. "They will regroup, but they've lost a small fleet, and so long as House Duras keeps their word, they won't know about our firepower."

Troi approached from her position near the tactical station. "Crew morale has spiked dramatically. They're eager for the spoils of war."

"As they should be," Picard said. "This victory belongs to all who served under my command."

The Enterprise and Yamaguchi pulled the defeated Cardassian vessels deeper into the Sol system.

Data turned from his console. "Commodore, I have identified three hundred seventy-two Cardassian survivors across all vessels. Forty-six require medical attention."

"Have Dr. Crusher attend to those who can be saved with minimal resources," Picard ordered. "We need healthy workers, not invalids."

Riker moved to the navigation console. "Where shall we take our prizes, Commodore?"

Picard contemplated the question. The Empire had several processing facilities throughout the system, each with its own specialization. After a moment's consideration, his decision was made.

"Set course for Neptune Station."

The bridge crew plotted the course toward the premiere slave re-education center of the Empire, where Gul Dukat and his crew would become its newest residents.

A hail from Admiral Hanson filled the viewscreen. "Commodore Picard. I've reported the fleet's victory to the Emperor. He wishes to meet you privately, to personally bestow upon you a fitting reward, and to officially recognize you as Captain of the Enterprise. You're to be elevated to the rank of Commodore in a ceremony. A bit of pomp is just what we need to improve recruitment for the upcoming push out of the Sol system."

A low murmur of excitement ran through the bridge crew at the announcement. A private audience with the Emperor was a high honor, acknowledgment of extraordinary service to the Empire. Picard merely nodded, hiding his emotions behind his stoic facade.

He responded with a simple, "Understood, Admiral," then turned back to his crew, authority resonating in his voice. "Our work isn't over yet. Let's get these ships back to Utopia Planitia and prepare for the next phase. We have a conquest to plan. And a potential treaty with House Duras to discuss."

As the transmission ended, Picard rose from his command chair. "Number One, you have the bridge. Prepare a full report on the battle. I want a complete inventory of what we've captured from the Cardassians."

"Aye, sir," Riker replied, moving to take the captain's chair.

"Sir, we're approaching Earth orbit. The Imperial Guard has requested your transport coordinates."

"Acknowledged. I'll be ready in ten minutes. Picard out." He turned to Tyson. "The Empire is changing. Those who recognize the shifting currents will prosper. Those who cling to old ways will be swept aside."

"A philosophy I share, Captain."

Picard nodded approvingly. "I thought as much."

Hours later, Tyson stood on the observation deck, watching Earth rotate slowly beneath them. The blue-green planet looked peaceful from orbit, belying the brutal empire that controlled it.

"Contemplating your place in the universe?" Troi approached from behind.

Tyson turned to find her approaching, her dark uniform accentuating her figure. "Just admiring the view."

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" She moved to stand beside him. "Even in an empire built on conquest and subjugation, some things remain constant."

"Like ambition," Tyson suggested.

"Speaking of ambition, will you stay on the Enterprise still, Commander? Or will you be taking command of the Galor?" Troi asked, her gaze following his to the planet below.

"I'll be taking command of the Galor, with occasional forays back onto the Enterprise. After all, how can Picard be Commodore without a fleet at his back?" Tyson replied, turning to face her.

The stars reflected in the observation window cast shifting patterns of light across her features. The Betazoid's dark eyes studied him with that penetrating intensity that made many uncomfortable. Tyson had grown accustomed to it.

"You can't run that ship with just you and Ro," she pointed out, crossing her arms.

"I actually recruited Barclay, too."

"So three." Her deadpan delivery was perfect.

Tyson laughed. "You're concerned about my staffing choices?"

"A Galor-class warship typically requires a crew complement of at least six hundred," she said, moving closer to the viewport.

To Tyson, the Galor-class vessel represented more than just a prize of war; it was a potential game-changer in the complex political landscape they now navigated.

"You're planning something," Troi observed, studying his reflection in the transparent aluminum.

"I'm always planning something," Tyson replied with a slight smile.

"Something specific," she pressed. "Something beyond simply commanding a captured vessel."

Tyson remained silent for a moment, weighing how much to reveal. "Let's just say that having an independent command provides certain... freedoms that might prove useful in the coming weeks."

"For Picard? Or for yourself?"

"Is there a difference?" Tyson countered. "Our interests are aligned, at least for now."

Troi's knowing smile held understanding of the Empire's politics. "Nothing is permanent in the Empire. Especially not alliances."

"Which is precisely why having options is so important," Tyson said. "Options the Galor gives me."

"And a crew of three gives you what, exactly?"

Tyson chuckled. "I have several candidates in mind beyond our Cardassian guests."

"From where? The Enterprise crew is already at minimal staffing levels."

Tyson waved her off. "Don't worry about it. I won't have a problem staffing the ship."

She turned with him to stare at the planet below. "Captain Picard's audience with the Emperor will elevate all of us."

"You seem confident in his favor."

"Emperor Quinn has always appreciated Picard's methods. They share a vision for the Empire that few others comprehend."

Tyson nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me about Emperor Quinn. His rise to power must have been fascinating."

"Calculating is a better word," Troi replied. "He was Admiral Quinn when Emperor Spock's reforms began to falter. He positioned himself perfectly when the assassination occurred, stepping into the power vacuum before anyone else could organize opposition."

"Efficient," Tyson remarked.

"Ruthless," Troi corrected. "But effective. The Empire has floundered, but he managed to maintain internal stability mostly. Speaking of internal stability, I have another round of loyalty screenings. I'll see you soon."

It was such an interesting coincidence, given that Ambassador Quinn, the man's Prime Universe counterpart, had just been on the Enterprise-D before Tyson and Ro had found themselves in the Mirror Universe…

"Vicky, status report," he said as she left the lounge.

"Barclay has been transferred to the Galor as requested," Vicky reported. "He's currently familiarizing himself with the Cardassian systems."

Tyson nodded, pleased with the progress. "And the crew situation?"

"I've readied Soong-Type android duplicates to replace you and Ensign Ro," Vicky continued. "They can be deployed once you regain access to your Personal Reality. No one will know you aren't physically there."

"Perfect, thanks, Vicky," Tyson said, his mind already racing with possibilities for their next move.

Then, in a flash of light, Q appeared, lounging against the viewport with his arms crossed, wearing the uniform of an Imperial Admiral.

"Finally," Tyson said, glancing around to ensure they were alone. "Where the hell have you been?"

Q raised his eyebrows dramatically. "Ah, it was time for Riker's first test. Seems I wasn't the only one testing him." He pushed away from the window and circled Tyson. "I can't believe you almost killed Jazzbeard."

Tyson rolled his eyes. "I didn't almost kill him, I just softened him up a little." He crossed his arms, mirroring Q's posture. "I'm guessing that means you sent me away so you could do your Q episode, and I missed it."

"Oh, don't seem so disappointed. You get more Q episodes than anyone." He gestured broadly at the observation lounge. "So, you played the part of the Displaced Space Pirate, huh?"

"I think it went rather well," Tyson replied, unable to suppress a slight smirk.

Q paced the length of the viewport, his reflection ghosting across the stars. "I suppose time will tell."

"Terrans out of their pens, Cardassians licking their wounds, a Klingon Civil War brewing." He studied Tyson more closely. "And the Terran Empire's best weapon let loose on the universe… or is it? A myserious newcomer has placed invisble shackles and agents around the ship, but he's finally able to leave and return to his universe."

"Heck yeah," Tyson said.

Q studied him for a moment. "Missed your home dimension?"

"More like missed my Personal Reality," Tyson replied, straightening his uniform. "I'm stacking up points over here."

Q's knowing smile held approval. "Well, here, have some more."

Episode: Star Trek Mirror Universe - Commander Complete!

+250 RP

Reality Points: 2700