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

July 2020 Author's Note:

Happy 4th of July to all my friends in the United States! I'm back! I've received all your messages asking for this fic to come back. The pandemic, which effected my work situation, and a new baby for my wife and I sucked up all my time and energy, so this story's updates suffered too. Hopefully, now that things have settled down a bit in my life (and my new son is sleeping through the night), I can get a good update schedule going. I'm flattered by the many messages I received asking me to update, but if you're going to send a message like that, then you better be reviewing each chapter of the story. :-)

READ THIS MESSAGE BEFORE READING THE CHAPTER – After chapter 3 was published I started working with a co-author, at16908, on these early chapters. Chapters 1-4 of this rewrite were reorganized and co-written with his help. I strongly recommend going back to the beginning and re-reading if you want this chapter (and story) to make sense.

The Adventures of Augment Gothic

Chapter 4 – A butterfly flaps its wings…fuck it, should I choke a bitch?

Ten Forward. U.S.S. Enterprise.

The biennial Trade Agreements Conference was apparently a very big thing, and it seemed everyone who was anyone was invited to this shindig, even the Ferengi. My plan to auction all my old stuff had been a smashing success. With the vaunted Enterprise crew itself confirming my origins and the authenticity of my stuff, the bidding got insane very quickly.

Interestingly enough, the various bits of archaic tech had fetched pretty high prices, even my toaster, hilariously enough. I could just totally see some ultra-rich guy toasting some bread at a fancy dinner party with my toaster and extolling how it came from Earth of an alternate dimension.

The items that had fetched the highest bids had been my computer/console games, music, movies and books that I had owned that had never been created in this dimension. A small bidding war had even started, ultimately driving the price up to ludicrous levels. So, I now had enough gold pressed latinum to make me feel like a rich man. In a moment of forethought, I had scanned and digitized (for later replication if I wanted), prior to the auction, everything that I wanted to keep, especially all the games, movies, music and books, and had hired a Federation lawyer specializing in intellectual property to legally claim all these artistic works as my own creations. It was made clear that the winning bidders were only getting the physical item. Since almost all of them hadn't been made in this universe by the various authors and artists (some of whom had never even been born here), they were technically all my property and I could develop them as I saw fit. The buyers would get the originals, but they'd be legally prevented from developing them further, or creating new copies of their own.

The windfall from the auction of my stuff was substantial, but it was a one-off payday. I needed a steady and continuous revenue stream, something scalable. As I had recently discovered, artistic works from my dimension had incredible value in the modern day and I had almost an encyclopedic memory of my home dimension's games, movies and music. Of course, not everything was going to translate well from culture to culture, so not everything would be able to jump across time and dimensions and still be hits, or even understood, without a whole lot more shared context to work with.

Then I remembered my TRON racing holoprogram. I had had a blast creating that program and set it to public access the last time I'd run it, on a whim. According to the computer at least fifty crew members had already run it (including Riker!), probably curious what kind of program an Augment from another dimension and time could/would create on the holodeck. Some of them had even sent me messages afterwards saying how much they enjoyed it. The infamous holoprogram junkie Miles O'Brien had even taken a serious shine to it, having told me it was his second favorite program now. I suppose nothing was going to take the top spot from the infamous river rapid kayak program of TNG fame. So, what the hell, maybe the people of the 24th century would enjoy holoprograms based on works created in my time. I could even carve out a niche for myself specializing in such works.

With that completed, I went on the GIN and began searching for information on how and where an amateur author/creator could sell the unique holoprograms they created. I eventually found myself on a type of web forum meant to give advice to new holo-authors just starting out. It was pretty interesting stuff and had a lot of information on how the industry functioned overall, and how it worked when you actually reached the big leagues and became an author whose work was distributed quadrant-wide by actual publishing houses.

At this point I'd be akin to an amateur author self-publishing their work in my time and putting it on Amazon for people to stumble upon and buy. The most established and popular authors would have publishing agents and big publishers to distribute their work. I was nowhere near that stage. After a couple of hours trying to see if anyone had come up with a similar program, I put a brief description on this web forum to gauge potential interest. I wasn't too descriptive, just in case someone stole my idea, but I was shocked at the level of positive interest I received. It seems a program like mine, simple and action oriented, rather than high-brow literature, was incredibly different from the norm and was intriguing to many. With a positive response like that, I said fuck it and completed the legal steps necessary to copyright it, register it, and protect it from illegal duplication, before putting it up for purchase.

Color me surprised when my little holoprogram of Tron light cycle battles on an electronic grid took off like a rocket. I wouldn't be getting rich off this one program, especially one so simple and thus priced accordingly, but I made a nice tidy sum and it looked like I was going to continue getting paid for some time to come. It also would get my name out there as a new author. I could even refine the program in the future and offer discounted updates to add new features, new grids, more story, better music and sounds, etc. The 2010 movie, Tron: Legacy, gave me plenty of ideas there. Since this program was essentially being self-published, I'd be getting the vast majority of the purchase price with no publisher involved to take their cut, but at the same time there would be no promotion for it, no marketing, no inclusion in the big catalogs of works offered outside of the Federation. It would be word of mouth for now, but who knows, maybe I'd attract a cult following.

I'll admit to being tempted into deep diving into my memory of popular books, TV shows, and movies from my world to write holoprograms full time, if only for the credits, but that was a pipe dream. I was put here by my patron, a ROB, for some unknown reason, but I doubt it was because they were interested in seeing me become a successful author. They made me an Augment for a reason and dropped me in a universe only a short span of years away from a quadrant-wide war. There might be spare time to continue doing this, but the call of adventure in my blood was strong, and the demands of survival meant my time was better spent working on advanced armor design. Having a lot of money would certainly help my survival chances, but it was still secondary for the moment.

At the conclusion of the conference, a banquet was being held aboard the Enterprise in Ten Forward, probably because as the flagship the Federation could show off how super advanced and powerful the ship was. Even the Federation wasn't above trying to impress with so many independent worlds in attendance. Impressing them could mean better relations with the Federation, more trade, or ideally, for these planets to seek admission to the Federation themselves one day.

My time aboard the Enterprise had introduced me to many different alien species during my time aboard - some good, some bad, but one race I had thankfully missed out on until just now were the Ferengi. And I could have happily continued to do so, but alas, fate was not on my side today as the Ferengi representative, DaiMon Tog, was just about every racist caricature that could be found about the Ferengi put into one supremely annoying individual. I had no idea how he had gotten to the rank of DaiMon, but Tog was incompetent, vain, greedy, and stupid – I could only guess that he must have had a very wealthy family pulling strings to get him this far.

The guy who set this up, a Betazoid named Reittan Grax, was circulating around the room, introducing himself to all the guests, although he did tend to stay away from the Ferengi, as they could not be read telepathically and that caused mental distress in Betazoids. I noticed that he and the other Betazoids were avoiding me as well, even visibly wincing when looking in my general direction, which I later learned was because they had the same issue with me. I guess my patron had set up some sort of barrier around my mind that was actively preventing my thoughts from being read by telepaths, most likely to keep them from discovering my knowledge about the future. That was supremely useful and was probably also the reason why Counselor Troi could not read my emotions without being in my direct presence.

Judging by how they were reacting, my mental defenses were quite powerful and possibly even aggressive in their defense of my mind. The winces indicated that even a casual, unconscious mental probe that Betazoids did as a matter of course, was responded to by mentally shaking them so badly that they couldn't focus their abilities. For a race of telepaths, that silence, that forced solitude in their thoughts as their telepathy retracted entirely into their own heads, like a wounded animal, must have been disconcerting in the extreme. So, I took no offense at their avoidance of me. Of course, that didn't prevent me from meeting… no, that's the wrong word… experiencing… yes, experiencing, Lwaxana Troi.

Lwaxana Troi was like a force of nature, to put it mildly. She could fill a room with her presence – a mixture of being larger-than-life, an almost theatrical flamboyance, and being extremely flirty. This universe's version of Lwaxana looked more like a curvier, sexier, slightly more mature version of her daughter, Deanna. Her voice, which had been the voice of all Federation computers on the various shows, was also far prettier than what I had expected, but just about everything else personality-wise was the same. Apparently, due to her many travels as an ambassador for Betazed, encountering all manner of exotic races who could stymie her telepathy, Lwaxana had no problem being in my presence, in fact, I had a hard time keeping her at bay. Lwaxana was on the hunt to get her daughter Deanna a husband, and apparently my being an Augment from another dimension and time was not a deal breaker in her matchmaking attempts. She was also assiduously avoiding DaiMon Tog who was attempting to proposition her. My presence, for some reason, was even more effective at keeping the man at bay. She had at first tried using Captain Picard as a shield, but he ducked out of the way so fast you'd think his ass was on fire, and she settled on using me since I had no easy way to politely escape her clutches.

I stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, struggling to fend off her flirting, when I was rescued by the most unlikely of saviors – that poor, sweet, deluded fool, Tog, who has seemingly gotten over his fear of me. Maybe the Ferengi race had some leftover threat identification instincts from their species' evolution that was flagging me as a predator to avoid at all costs?

"Lwaxana Troi," Tog said. "I desire you."

"What?" Lwaxana asked, quite confused, since tonight was the first time they had met, and she was a high-ranking Federation ambassador. Things like this weren't supposed to be done in polite company, at least not by anyone other than her, who could only get away with it by acting charmingly eccentric.

"You see, your Betazoid skills would be very useful to me, and I find you very attractive," he said, with the confidence that only idiots can have, especially entitled idiots who have mostly gotten what they wanted throughout their whole life. "I am willing to pay handsomely for you."

"I don't believe this," she said. I could certainly understand her – I couldn't believe it either, but that didn't stop me from using this distraction to slowly back away until I was behind Worf, who looked like he didn't know what he should be doing right now, as this was a bit out of his expertise.

"You must be aware that every female has her price," Tog continued, oblivious or just not caring that his statement visibly offended the woman he was talking to. For Ferengi women that might be true, but why would he think that applied to other species?

At this point I was about 50-50 on whether Lwaxana was going to strangle Tog or not, because her hands were clenching open and shut like they were itching to wrap themselves around the Ferengi's small neck.

"Let's get one thing straight, little man," she practically shouted. "I am Lwaxana Troi - Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, and I am NOT for sale. And if, by some chance I were to become available, I would rather eat Orion wing-slugs than deal with a toad-faced troll like you! So go away and find someone else to become your property."

She then stormed out in a huff, and I'm sure she would have slammed a door if she could have (they only slide in and out of the walls). Her valet, Mr. Homn - a silent, tall, gray humanoid followed quickly after. The Ferengi didn't stick around for long after that, and that's when I remembered this whole disaster was from a rather forgettable episode of TNG called 'Ménage à Troi'. The beginning of that episode had been mostly like this, except without myself of course. After getting humiliated by Lwaxana, Tog kidnaps her from the planet's surface. Instead of waiting for the right moment, when she was alone for instance, he took her and Riker and Deanna too, who were having a romantic moment on the planet that Lwaxana had just interrupted – because of course she did. Lwaxana was like a trouble magnet – whenever she was around, an irritating disaster was just around the corner… waiting… watching… and then, when you least expect it, it strikes!

This fucker was seriously going to kidnap Lwaxana Troi, an extremely important and well-known ambassador, plus two Starfleet officers who happened to be there. What was the end game there? The whole episode had never made much sense to me. There was literally a whole planet full of telepaths on Betazed, an entire race of them! They could have just found one who was willing to help Tog in his business dealings and hired them! Nothing illegal there. No race was truly monolithic, there would always be those who bucked the species mold and would take a well-paying job like that. There was literally no reason to kidnap anyone.

And because Lwaxana is an annoying menace to herself as well as others, the Ferengi doctor onboard Tog's ship decides to use her as a test subject in order to figure out how Betazoid telepathy works in an apparently very invasive and painful procedure – Deanna being unsuitable since she is half-human, which had changed her mental abilities. She had been born an empath, rather than a telepath. Again, did any of this make sense? Did it seem likely the Federation or the Betazoid people themselves wouldn't have studied their own physiology and abilities? Medical information like that wasn't exactly secret. And again, just hire a telepath who was willing to play ball!

Eventually, Riker and Troi escape from their cell and send a signal that could be tracked by the Enterprise. Lwaxana then decides to sacrifice herself, and agrees to work for Tog if he sends Riker and Deanna back which he does. Wesley eventually figures out the signal Riker had sent, but doing so causes him to miss his ride to the academy exam –Wesley is then forced to delay his entrance to Starfleet by another year.

Soon, the Enterprise catches up to Tog's ship, and Picard is then forced to put on a truly cringe-worthy charade of 'fighting' for Lwaxana's heart by quoting Shakespearean poetry, eventually threatening to destroy Tog's ship because he's so lovesick. Tog relents at the last moment, transporting Lwaxana onto the Enterprise, and Wesley is made an acting Ensign until he can try and enter Starfleet Academy the next year. Calling this a forgettable episode might have been too kind, it was a totally shit episode of TNG.

The thing about Lwaxana Troi which sort of redeems her, is that she actually is a good person and a good ambassador for her people, with her heart in the right place. The majority of her over-the-top behavior is her playacting to cover up her own pain. One event that hurt her terribly was the loss of her eldest daughter, Kestra, in a drowning accident. Kestra was just 6 years old when she died, and that seemed to set off a chain of events with the people she loved dying around her. By this point, she had outlived her parents, siblings, husbands, and even a child. As someone who loves deeply, that scarred her over and over until she came up with her current public persona.

In the meantime, I had to figure out how much I wanted to involve myself in the upcoming events. I suspected this would be a recurring theme in my life in this dimension because of my foreknowledge. Yeah, I knew many things about the future, but should I do anything about it? Did I actually need to involve myself in every episode I recognized? Would my interference actually result in a better outcome? And would that outcome actually be better in the mid- to long-term?

This episode had turned out fine in canon, but maybe if I intervened, Wesley would have a better chance at succeeding and finding happiness with a career in Starfleet. On the other hand, his disastrous final year at the Academy and the flight accident which claimed a fellow cadet's life, when they tried that banned flight maneuver, had resulted in him becoming dissatisfied with the path of his life, which eventually led to him learning from the Traveler and becoming some kind of uber-being who traveled reality with the power of his thoughts alone and could even step outside of time itself. Which was the better outcome? I had no fucking idea! Should I even worry about the canon outcome when my very presence was quite possibly throwing everything off? Or should I just do a cost/benefit analysis based entirely on how it affected me, how it benefitted me? Gah…

God knows how many times this same debate would need to play out in my head. Thank goodness my patron had put me in an AU Star Trek universe, which meant the timeline was a bit more fluid and not everything was happening like on a predetermined script or in exactly the same way.

Fuck it, I owed Wesley a little something for mentally scarring him several times over. Let's roll the dice and see where they end up. If the Traveler of this universe still wanted to teach Wesley to travel the universe and dimensions with his mind, then he'd figure out a way to make that happen.

Fortunately, shore leave was authorized, and Troi had invited me along to see a few beautiful sights on Betazed - how could I say no to visiting my first alien world with a native guide?

(Line Break)

Medara. Betazed.

Betazed was a bit of a letdown on some level. While it was certainly an absolutely beautiful world, with obviously great care spent on preserving a balance between untouched nature and advanced cities, it was also not that much different from Earth. When I had thought of alien worlds, I had imagined planets with rings like Saturn, an extra sun, maybe a couple dozen moons, extremely saturated colors, even a floating island in the air or something… and Betazed had none of that. I knew it was my own fault for having unrealistic expectations, but still – Medara, the capital city, could have been any city from my time… just with some more weird plants and futuristic architecture. For a moment I had even thought I was being pranked, that this was actually Earth, just cleaned up, but who would take the time to do something that elaborate?

At least getting here had been interesting. It had been the first time I had been transported while I was conscious enough to see it. The transporter is a device capable of almost instantaneously moving an object from one location to another, like from a ship to a planet or vice versa. It does this by using matter-energy conversion to transform matter into energy, then beaming it to or from a chamber where it is reconverted back into its original pattern. That said, there was a theory (or fear) I had heard in my time which suggested that every transport using this device was actually creating a perfect copy of the person, while the original is destroyed in the energy conversion process. I'm not exactly sure what the philosophical implications are, especially since transporter accidents on the show have successfully created perfect copies of the same person, each equally valid as being that person. Supposedly this was a fear shared by the people of Earth in the 22nd century, when transporter technology was first invented, and had been disproven.

In any case, getting transported isn't some elaborate process for the individual, even if the science behind it was obviously incredibly complex. I simply walked onto a platform with a couple of other people, we each picked a spot over a pad, and the transporter chief activates the console. Being converted into energy doesn't hurt, just a slight tingling sensation, like when you walk across a carpet and get a static charge on your skin. One moment I was on the Enterprise… the next, on an alien world.

I found myself in a very well-maintained park with the rest of the people on the pad. Riker and Deanna had beamed down with me and were setting off on one of the walking paths, letting me explore on my own for a while. Being in this place was bittersweet for the two since they had met here when they were younger and had fallen in love. Unfortunately, Riker had chosen his career over marriage and Deanna had had her heart broken. They were moving towards a particular spot, with some sort of rare plant they had put there years before. I was following them, making sure to keep myself calm and out of sight, but honestly, the way the two were acting, I could have danced around them naked and I'm not sure they would have even noticed. Lwaxana and Mr. Homn were waiting nearby, getting ready to spring their ambush – apparently determined to force Riker and Deanna to stop dancing around each other for even more years. Ironically, Lwaxana was actually stepping on the very moment that could lead to what she wanted. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. I hid behind some trees and waited for this shit show of an episode to get started, still not 100% sure I was going to intervene yet.

"I think it's around here somewhere," Riker said with a grin on his face.

"Maybe it died," Deanna said. "It has been a few years."

"Muktok live for hundreds of years." Riker examined some nearby plants before finding what he was looking for. "Here it is."

The muktok was a low growing plant with a fluffy purple flower that chimed when it was shook.

"It's lovely," Deanna said with a sigh, sounding wistful. "I remember that sound, and all the good times we had."

"I remember a certain junior officer meeting a very serious psychology student," Riker said, with a devilish grin on his face. "The best part about being assigned to Betazed."

They kissed, and were completely unaware of the fireworks about to go off, as Lwaxana and Mr. Homn walked towards them, with the valet carrying picnic baskets. The romantic moment was ruined as Lwaxana opened her mouth and spoke. "Oh, this is the perfect spot. Put the food down over there, Mister Homn. Isn't it a beautiful day for a picnic? They'll join us in a minute. No, no, no, no. Here, put the food over there. No, you can go back."

Troi and Riker stepped away from each other, the moment over.

"Mother, how did you know about this place?" Deanna asked crossly.

"Your father used to bring me here." Lwaxana answered. "Sit down."

"And you even brought provisions," Riker said sarcastically, a grin on his face. "Very thoughtful."

"Here, Will, Deanna," continued Lwaxana. "Try an oskoid. They're delicious. That sap running through the veins helps keep it warm."

Riker tried one and said, "Very tasty. So, tell us, Lwaxana. The last time we met, you were looking for a husband. Did you have any luck?"

"Alas, no, but what happens to me isn't important," Lwaxana said regretfully. "I'm much more concerned about other people getting on with their lives."

Deanna let out an exasperated, "Mother." I admired her restraint.

Lwaxana turned towards her valet, apparently ignoring her daughter's irritated tone with a great deal of practice. "Mister Homn, I noticed some uttaberries back along the path. Pick some."

Mr. Homn walked away without a word, moving at a slow pace like a giraffe ambling on the savannah. He must have had the patience of a saint to put up with his employer.

Lwaxana waited until he was out of earshot before continuing. "Well, Mister Homn and I could go back home if you two would like to be alone. It's such a romantic setting."

Deanna let out another exasperated, "Mother, stop it." If this was something that happened regularly when Deanna was trying to be alone with someone, I'm kind of surprised Deanna didn't enter the 24th century version of witness protection, change her name, and disappear into anonymity.

"Darling, you have been so excitable lately," Lwaxana said. "Have you ever thought of a leave of absence? I could talk to Jean-Luc."

Riker, obviously recognizing the signs that Deanna was about to have a meltdown, tried to distract his ex, "Try the oskoid. Very different."

This was when Tog finally showed up, beaming in beside the trio.

Riker let out a surprised, "What the?" before pushing Deanna behind him.

"For one whose beauty surpasses even these pericules," Tog said, not reading the room at all. Just like in the original episode, Lwaxana tossed those flowers to the ground, flowers which were native and only grew on a specific Ferengi world, and would thus provide the Enterprise a vital clue as to just who kidnapped them. This guy was truly an idiot.

"DaiMon Tog - I thought the Krayton left orbit hours ago?" Riker said, not sure what was happening.

"It did," Tog replied. "But when I tried to get the image of Lwaxana Troi out of my mind, I could not succeed."

"This is ludicrous." Lwaxana screeched. "You mean you came all the way back to Betazed for me?"

Tog responded, "Why continue to search for perfection once you have found it?"

"I don't believe this," muttered Deanna, and once again, neither did I.

Lwaxana looked like she was winding up and let out an explosion, "Look, Demon Tog, or whatever you call yourself, I am Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed. And unless you want to create an interstellar incident, you had better beam back to your ship!"

Tog grinned and said, "Returning to my ship is exactly what I had in mind. Krayton, transport four-gah!"

It was at this moment that I sprinted behind Tog and placed him into a sleeper hold, squeezing him tightly around his neck, just hard enough to cut off blood flow and air circulation, but not to kill. My research on the physiologies of the alien attendees of the trade conference had shown a sleeper hold would work even on a Ferengi.

My left hand deftly removed his comm unit and threw it a few dozen feet away, to prevent any transporter locks centered around his comm unit, before making sure I was in position to control Tog's movement as his body was going limp in my arms. It was tempting to simply break his neck, which would kill this Ferengi as surely as a human, but I managed to restrain myself. As soon as Tog had appeared, I had hidden in the nearby foliage, waiting for the man to commit himself to the kidnapping I'd seen in canon and thus give me an excuse to legally act. While Deanna had obviously felt my emotions as I got closer, she had not done anything to alert Tog to my presence beyond a quick glance in my direction. The loathsome man had finally lost consciousness and I lowered him down onto the grass to the sound of a subordinate trying to confirm transport from Tog's comm unit. For better or worse, I had just made a major change to the timeline – I just hoped it had been worth it.

(Line Break)

Captain's Ready Room. U.S.S. Enterprise.

Starfleet personnel had arrived soon after my intervention and placed both of us into custody. I wish I were surprised, but I really wasn't. Tog and I were both sent to a local Starfleet base on the planet and were put into separate holding cells. Tog eventually woke up and started shouting for a guard, yelling for them to 'Release him immediately!' and 'Did they know who he was?', but was being ignored.

I just laid quietly on the bed, with my hands behind my head, thinking about what I had done, or in this case, what I had not done. I was considering the consequences of my choice, both in getting involved in the first place, when I knew this situation would have worked itself out fine, and of not killing Tog. I had just humiliated a Ferengi starship captain, who not only had his own powerful starship, but who more than likely was from a very wealthy family, who could very well hold a grudge… I doubt this was going to be the end of it.

Picard had originally saved the day and had suffered little in terms of consequences, but he was in Starfleet, a captain of a galaxy-class starship, and was legendary in his own right. Retaliating against him was a much, much different proposition than retaliating against me at the moment. I was an Augment, and thus had a lot of physical power, but I did not have a powerful ship of my own, was not part of a powerful fleet, and I had no one that would make much of a fuss if I suddenly disappeared. Maybe I should have just not stuck my nose in it in the first place, or killed him and made it look like an accident. But to kill, much less in cold blood… I wasn't there yet. I felt like I would have to make that choice sooner rather than later, but killing Tog wouldn't have accomplished much more than make my potential charges worse. If the guy had brought a weapon with him, maybe I could have gotten away with it by suggesting it was in self-defense, but merely transporting people away? That wasn't going to fly.

The only advantage I had at the moment was that I was essentially a nobody, with no fame, no accolades, no great accomplishments. Striking back at me granted little in the way of reputational benefits. In fact, it was all cost and no profit. I could only hope that would be enough to dissuade any Ferengis looking for revenge.

After about an hour passed, the guards came for me - I was to be sent back to the Enterprise. They moved me under guard until I reached the captain's ready room. I hadn't been put into restraints, which I very much appreciated, and was surprised that Picard had remained alone with me in the room. I had been sitting here for about 10 minutes, listening to Picard rant. He was now starting to repeat himself, and my patience was running thin.

"You've created an interstellar diplomatic crisis!" Captain Picard said in a raised tone, pacing back and forth – which for him, was practically being hysterical. I was tempted to grab him by the shoulders, slap him, and shout "Get a hold of yourself, man!" like in the scene from the movie 'Airplane!', but managed to stop myself. What I couldn't stop was the little smile that bloomed on my face for a moment at the silly thought, which I quickly smothered. Unfortunately, it wasn't in time, as Picard had noticed.

"Do you think this is amusing, Gothic?" Picard asked, as he sat down.

"Captain, with all due respect," I said, even though I was obviously lying, "what did you expect me to do? I had no weapons to stop him with… I guess I could have thrown a rock or something, but that might have caused more damage than just waking up with a headache. Under the circumstances, I think my approach was actually quite gentle."

"The problem is not with your methods," he spat out incredulously– which for him, was like a snarl. "The problem is that you assaulted a Ferengi captain while he claims he was performing diplomatic duties. This will have grave consequence with any future diplomatic endeavors with the Ferengi and possibly others, once it becomes known."

"Captain," I said. "I understand what you're saying, but I really think you should stop for a moment and calm down so that you can think rationally."

He actually dropped his jaw in shock and was about to start up again, so I just talked over what he was about to say – a little rude, but I wasn't appreciating being called out onto the carpet for saving the day.

"DaiMon Tog was not acting as a diplomat for the Ferengi when his ship returned to Betazed," I said. "He wasn't acting in the guise of a diplomat when he transported onto the planet's surface without permission. He certainly wasn't acting like one when he tried to forcibly abduct Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, and Ambassador Lwaxana Troi via his ship's transporter. A woman he had publicly expressed desires to possess at the closing reception of the trade conference, specifically for her telepathic abilities and her great beauty, a desire which was forcefully and loudly rejected by Ambassador Troi multiple times over, including on the day I incapacitated him."

I paused to let that sink in. Picard wasn't a stupid man – I'm sure he would have eventually figured this out on his own. He was probably just frustrated that this had happened with someone from his ship involved. I might not be crew, but I guess he felt like while I was living on the ship, thus he was responsible for me, or that his granting me so much freedom, even though I was a dangerous augment in so many's minds, had caused this. A bit of prejudice was likely unconsciously at work, but let's give the guy the benefit of the doubt.

"Sir," I began. "Tog attempted to kidnap three Federation citizens. I rendered him unconscious during the commission of that crime, mid-command, after he activated his comm device and signaled to his ship, saying 'Returning to my ship is exactly what I had in mind. Krayton, transport four-gah!'. The gah is when I started strangling him," I joked with a wink, which the captain did not appreciate if the stink eye he was sending me was any indication.

"No matter how the Ferengi might try to spin it, his ship should have already left and he should not have been on the planet. He is a criminal, and that's how the Federation should look at this event – a crime was stopped mid-act. There was a diplomatic incident, but one committed by the grievous act of DaiMon Tog who attempted to kidnap three Federation citizens; a Federation Ambassador and two Starfleet officers, no less. I wouldn't be surprised if the Ferengi are forced to apologize for this and even offer up some concessions to smooth things over with Betazed and the Federation. This will likely be seen as ham-handed and indefensible, even in their eyes."

Picard had begun to think again, and I could practically see his blood pressure lowering. "Perhaps you are correct, Gothic. The Enterprise will remain here for the next several days until a decision is reached regarding DaiMon Tog and his actions. In the meantime, please return to your quarters and remain there until this situation is resolved, one way or another."

"Alright, captain," I responded calmly. I was grateful he hadn't put me in the brig while all this was getting figured out, but I was still a bit annoyed that I was being confined to quarters. I had saved the day and might yet face consequences for it, yet I was being treated like a criminal. Lwaxana, Deanna, and Riker should have told Picard all this.

"Dismissed," he replied, seemingly forgetting that I wasn't part of his crew or in Starfleet, and certainly not in his chain of command. I got up, bowed my head slightly, and walked out. Hopefully this would all be settled quickly.

(Line Break)

Guest Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.

I soon returned to my quarters, my two old Vulcan guards back behind me, this time joined by another pair. Guess my choking out a dude had frightened some folks. 'All our fears are confirmed! The Augment is violent!' I left them outside my quarters and went to check if I still had access to my replicator and computer– thankfully, I still did.

I grabbed a bite to eat and relaxed a little. I wasn't quite ready for bed yet, and after a long day like today, I felt like an equally long and relaxing shower was in order. I was almost done when I was notified that someone was at the door. I quickly tied a towel tightly around my waist and went to see who it was. Who else stood there but Lwaxana-freakin-Troi. I noticed that my guards had disappeared from their sentry positions and wondered if that was just a coincidence.

"Oh my," she purred slowly, her eyes roaming my bare chest, ogling the muscles my Augment physiology had granted me and let me keep with little actual dedicated weight lifting involved. "Did I catch you at a bad time, Mr. Gothic, or is it the right time?"

You had to give the woman credit, her over the top flirting was a refreshing change of pace.

"Not at all, Ambassador Troi. I would offer for you to come in but…" I managed to say, before Lwaxana pushed by me into the living area, both hands somehow pushing and shamelessly fondling my well-defined pecs. "…or you can come in."

"I am here to formally thank you, Gothic, for helping me in my time of need," she formally said, with the air of royalty making a proclamation. "I, Lwaxana Troi, daughter of the Fifth House, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, acknowledge my debt to you, Gothic, for the great service you provided in protection of my daughter and myself, the last our great house."

She then looked at me, obviously expecting me to say something.

"Uh…" I said, fumbling for a response, before the speed of my thoughts caught up with my mouth and I decided to take a page from years of DxD gameplay, fantasy books, and Tolkien.

"I, Gothic, traveler of time and dimensions, acknowledge your debt to me and accept it in the spirit it was given."

Did that sound as lame as I thought it did? Traveler of time and dimensions?! What the fuck was I thinking!

When I finally stopped castigating myself for how stupid I probably sounded, I noticed that Lwaxana was looking a touch amused, but also like a cat who had just gotten their first taste of cream and saw a fresh bowl of it right in front of her. Well…ok now. That's unexpected.

"You know, Gothic, you are incredibly handsome," she purred, beginning to stalk towards me.

In spite of myself, I was getting caught in those dark eyes of hers. Lwaxana was a very attractive and sexy woman, far better looking than the woman who had played her on TV, with a nicely rounded figure that would normally make my mouth water, but her personality from the show had always been off-putting to me. But…she had never been this sexy. That had to be taken into account. And you can find a way to accept a whole lot of unpleasantness if a woman was this sexy and showed interest in you.

Lwaxana strutted up to me, now standing close enough to smell me, her nostrils flaring like she had caught the scent of wounded prey. A hand reached out to trace my pectorals, playfully circling my left nipple. She was taking several deep breaths by this point.

"Maybe I can thank my savior in a more… intimate manner," she said, reaching up to bring my head down, closer to hers.

I thought about rejecting her, but honestly, something about her was checking all the boxes when it came to my ridiculously enhanced libido. When I accepted this new life as the gift it truly was, I had told myself that I would live this life to the fullest, without regret. Turning down freely offered pussy from a sexy woman was not in line with that commitment, so I said fuck it, and kissed her like my life depended on it.

(Line Break)

Guest Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.

Lwaxana only stayed for about three hours in total, but what a three hours they had been. The woman was practically insatiable and had done her best to test the stamina of even an Augment like me once she realized that my flesh was much stronger than normal and could rise to the occasion as many times as I wanted. An episode from TNG suggested a possible explanation for her libido. She might have already entered the beginning stages of 'The Phase', a phase of life that all Betazoid and half-Betazoid women entered in mid-life when the woman became fully sexual, her sex drive quadrupling…or more. If that were the case, then I think I had acquitted myself rather well and was glad I had accepted her advances.

I'll admit, some of my hesitation had been due to her portrayal on the TV show. Majel Barrett-Roddenberry was a fine actress, but it would be charitable to call her anything but handsome. In contrast, this version of Lwaxana Troi was firmly in hardcore MILF territory… I just wished her personality was equally as attractive. Still, in the few quiet moments between love making sessions, Lwaxana was actually quite fun, candid, uninhibited, warm, and so full of life you couldn't help but like her. It was so different from her normal persona that it was like she had been on a stage before, performing, but now she could finally let her hair down and just be herself.

Underneath the gaudy and elaborate dresses she often wore, Lwaxana looked like a fertility goddess – with well rounded, but carefully maintained curves and valleys that were just begging to be explored. She was a woman who knew what she liked, filled with a sensuality and eroticism that could leave you breathless. Lwaxana must have been regularly practicing her Kegel exercises because she was tight and wet enough for me to doubt that she had ever had children.

It seemed that our time had come to an end, as Lwaxana got up to leave. The sonic shower wasn't exactly designed for two, but we made it work, with her pressed against the wall and me entering her from behind until we both climaxed in a soothing final crescendo. She eventually begged off as she needed to return to Betazed and got dressed. We had one last kiss and she left, vowing to keep in touch – I wasn't quite sure if I should have taken that as a threat… or a promise.

As soon as the door closed and Hurricane Lwaxana left, I began to rationally think about what had just happened, and felt a bit of panic. My other dalliances had been more or less kept low-key, but this one would be hard for the ship's gossip network to miss. I think I could kiss any attempt at seducing Deanna goodbye… at least for now. God, I needed a drink.

I got something to eat, took another shower, this time for real, and went to sleep. The bed smelled of her natural scent and perfume, even after I had changed the sheets.

'Damn, what a woman,' was my last thought before I finally fell asleep.

(Line Break)

Guest Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.

Three days had passed since I had wrecked Tog's plans. I had spent most of that time studying, and was now about the level of a sophomore in high school. While I wasn't completely cut off from the outside world, being stuck in the same room while not being allowed to walk around the ship or visit the holodeck wasn't fun. Fortunately, people were still allowed to visit me, and my handful of friends that I had made onboard made sure I wouldn't go stir crazy.

Guinan, that angel, visited twice, even bringing another bottle of Romulan ale from her dwindling private collection. I drank about a shot glass at a time in order to extend how long it lasted. When the last aqua blue drop hit my tongue, I think I actually shed a tear. Spending time with Guinan was interesting too, of course, just in a different way - we mostly talked about some adventures she and I had had in our other lives. Under different circumstances, I might have given her a tour of my bedroom, but knowing the guards were just outside seemed off-putting to her. You'd think a woman as old as her wouldn't care anymore, go figure.

Beverly visited me as well, but it was mostly for emotional support – her baby had finally left the nest to go to Starfleet Academy and she was feeling rather lonely. I wasn't really sure what to do or say beyond being supportive and making "hmm" sounds as she shared her feelings, her head on my shoulder. My being there for her was apparently enough, which I was grateful for. I'll admit, I was tempted to give her a tour of the bedroom as well, but once again, the guards outside made that untenable – since I now had six who rotated shifts. I started mentally calling them 'Petty and the Cockblockers' in my head even though I knew it wasn't really their fault. No, they were just doing their jobs, unfortunately.

Data was one of those who came by, and we continued our lessons on how to be more like a squishy meat-bag. While I did enjoy the conversations, they were pretty challenging – describing an emotion to someone who did not have the current ability to experience any emotions can be pretty difficult, like describing color to someone who had never possessed sight. I got a lot out of these conversations too, especially when Data helped me better understand some difficult or abstract concept from my studies. The man was also, inadvertently, extremely helpful in overcoming some design challenges I was facing in my mental designs for advanced weapons and armor. He was also a wonderful sounding board for philosophical questions I had on the Federation's many shortcomings, at least in my opinion. His lack of emotions actually made him far more objective than an organic who had been raised in this culture.

The most notable visitors during my 'confinement' were Deanna Troi and Riker. Both of them had thanked me for preventing their kidnapping, but Troi felt a bit more stand-offish and uncomfortable in our interactions, at least when compared to our earlier talks. I had some suspicions about that – I guess even in the future it was awkward to learn someone had banged their mother to within an inch of her life. I wouldn't even have been surprised if Lwaxana had shared a blow-by-blow breakdown of our fucking and told her daughter to give me a try while she had the chance. That would have been a very Lwaxana thing to do.

Riker, on the other hand, obviously having heard about Lwaxana and I, acted like he was almost in awe of me, like I had put my head (the one on top of my neck) in a wild lion's mouth and somehow not gotten it bit off. Still, they were both grateful that I had prevented their kidnapping and asked me to call them Deanna and Will, respectively. I even got an invite to the poker game he hosted every week or so – to which I was a bit surprised as only the command crew and honored guests were usually invited. In the end, I wouldn't strictly call us friends, but we were more than acquaintances. Saving someone from being abducted could have that effect.

Eventually, Picard called me back to his ready room and told me that my predictions were pretty much on point - the Ferengi had been embarrassed by Tog's actions, feared what the Federation might do in response, and had offered significant concessions to the Federation in the way of apology. Just as I had suspected, Tog's family were very wealthy and powerful, and they really wanted to make this go away, as they had lost a lot of influence due to Tog's actions. As for Tog himself, he would be stripped of his command and returned to the Ferengi Alliance, where he would no doubt have to face the Ferengi Commerce Authority (the enforcers of the Ferengi's trade agreements) and their agents - charmingly known as Liquidators.

With this latest incident seemingly resolved, the Enterprise was once again heading for Earth, and I was crossing my fingers that we wouldn't get involved in yet another potential disaster. In the meantime, my movement about the ship was no longer restricted, and Petty and the Cockblockers were nowhere in sight.

With my involuntary seclusion over, I decided it was time to hit up Ten Forward and see what I had missed.

(Line Break)

Ten Forward. U.S.S. Enterprise.

I entered Ten Forward to smiles and nods of acknowledgement from various folks – a far different greeting from the one I had received the first time I had entered this place. Saving the First Officer and Counselor Troi had garnered me some increased goodwill, it seems. The Enterprise was now less than a week away from reaching the birthplace of humanity and I was having mixed feeling about returning to its embrace. I sat down at a free table and ordered my usual from a passing waiter. I had just gotten comfortable when I was joined by four Klingons, who, without asking for permission, just sat down at my table. That was fine, I was curious to see where this might go.

I recognized three of them from my first alien encounter, the very same guys I had beaten up when I was still disoriented from centuries of cryosleep. The last one was Worf – oh joy. I was surprised they actually allowed him to be around them since he was officially dishonored in the eyes of the Klingon Empire. I doubt it was because they found him to be good company, so maybe it was a lack of options and I looked like a good diversion?

At first, I had thought they were here to make trouble, but apparently the three bore no hard feelings, were actually impressed by me, and simply wanted to sit with someone they respected. The trio had left the ship after our last encounter, but had come back onboard again when the trade conference had begun. They were now hitching a ride to Earth for some other diplomatic thing and were looking for a bit of recreation – meaning it was time for them to get drunk. Worf was escorting them around, mostly there to make sure they didn't spontaneously break into a fight.

I debated getting up and leaving, but the Klingons seemed like a nice change of pace after being effectively grounded to my room, so I decided to stick around and see where this went. They pulled out several bottles of bloodwine they had brought onboard with them and poured me a generous glass, urging me to give it a taste. Bloodwine is hard to describe. Obviously, it's the color of blood, but while it went down like wine, it hit like pure moonshine. That stuff has a kick like a mule, and really got the blood boiling – probably because it was about twice as potent as whiskey. All-in-all, it wasn't that bad! I don't know if I would want to take the time (or cost) to get used to it, but at least getting my hands on a bottle in Federation space wasn't as hard as getting Romulan Ale, which was illegal because of the trade embargo.

While we sat drinking, the first thing I noticed about these Klingons was that they were kind of like children – hairy, bony, extremely aggressive teenagers that were part of a death worshipping cult. They were seemingly obsessed with constantly one-upping each other. Even drinking was a competition, with the victory going to the man who could remain functional even after drinking enough to kill a human with alcohol poisoning. I had known guys like this in my home dimension – they were great for a laugh, but when the going got tough, they usually got going, leaving you to take the fall. Maybe that was different for Klingons. As for Worf, he was trying to join the fun with the others of his race, but was somehow not quite able to make it believable. His laughs and roars felt like they were just a half-second too late behind the others, almost like he was taking his cues from his fellow Klingons, like he was unsure of how a Klingon was supposed to act so he was pantomiming their reactions to avoid embarassment… which I guess was true, in a way.

Worf's backstory was actually one of the reasons I gave him more slack than I would have most people. Worf's father, Mogh, had been an honorable Klingon, Head of one of the Great Houses in the Empire; while his chief political opponent, Ja'rod of the House of Duras, was a shifty, slimy sort who was less concerned with honor, and more concerned with gaining power, no matter what it took. Seeking a way to increase his influence, Ja'rod moved to a colony on Khitomer – the same planet where the Klingons and Federation had signed a peace treaty over 50 years before.

When Worf was 5 years old, Mogh followed with his entire House, including Worf, Worf's mother, and his nanny - just leaving a recently born little brother, Kurn, behind, under the care of another House. Unfortunately, that was the worst thing Mogh could have done, as Ja'rod was working with the Romulans, who wanted Khitomer, and they had Ja'rod sabotage the defensive network so that they could attack. Most of the colony was killed, leaving very few survivors, amongst which were Worf and his nanny. Since the nanny was in no shape to care for Worf or capable of protecting Worf from his House's many enemies, since the House of Mogh was effectively destroyed, she allowed him to be adopted by a family in the Federation, far from the House's enemies in the Empire. Ja'rod returned to the Empire and began quickly gathering power, his old enemy no longer frustrating his ambitions and his crimes hidden from the light of day, at least for now.

Worf grew up more than a bit 'high-spirited', to put it in polite terms, unable to completely control his anger and strength around the weaker and less physically robust human children he grew up around. Tragically, when he was 13, he accidentally killed another child during a soccer match when they collided midair, his reinforced Klingon head breaking the human boy's neck. While it truly was a tragic accident on every level, Worf's grief and anger at his actions made him take his personal self-control to a whole new level, even creating a goal for himself to become the perfect Klingon. The problem with that was that he saw his people as some kind of noble warriors with rich traditions, not the drunken bullies that they really were in the modern day. Even when he visited Qo'noS as a teenager and was shunned for being too human-like, he lied to himself that it was just a test of some sort. Even when he grew up and joined Starfleet, the first Klingon to ever join, he kept himself apart – seemingly never fitting in anywhere.

This all came to a head just a few months ago, as a now adult Kurn found his brother and told him that their father was being accused of being a traitor during the Khitomer Massacre, and that Duras (Ja'rod now dead and his son taking over), was trying to smear the House of Mogh's name. Worf went to Qo'noS, the Klingon homeworld, and tried to stop Duras's attack on his family's name with the help of Picard, and it eventually came out that the Klingon High Council already knew that Mogh was innocent, but was using him as a convenient scapegoat to cover up the crimes of the House of Duras, who by this time had wormed its way into controlling nearly half the Empire. If the sins of Ja'rod were revealed, it would almost certainly bring about a Klingon civil war. For the good of the Empire, Mogh would be branded a traitor. As the man was long dead, his only known son, Worf, part of Starfleet and not truly a part of Klingon life, and Kurn's relation to Worf unknown and still pretending to be the son of another house, it seemed like the perfect plan to sweep it all under the rug. The High Council never expected Worf to actually fight the charges or to find conclusive evidence proving Duras was the real traitor. To protect his brother, Worf accepted a discommendation, effectively ruining his family's 'honor' in the eyes of all Klingons. What made this shit sandwich even worse was that it was all for nothing in the end – the civil war would happen anyway, the Duras family working with the Romulans once more, and Worf would still wind up facing off against Duras in the future.

I was trying to keep all this in mind, because otherwise, I think I would have already taken one of these lovely bottles of bloodwine and hit him over the head with it until the bottle broke or he did. I had just finished arm wrestling each of the trio, and winning, when Worf decided he had to do so as well to prove just how Klingon he was. While the others had been surprisingly good sports about my victories and actually looked amused that a human had beat them, Worf looked like I had just insulted his mother, and his sullen behavior was acting like some sort of joy-vacuum. Apparently, each defeat, even though they weren't actually his, was somehow a wound to his precious Klingon honor, and he just had to show the world how much better he (and ostensibly the entire Klingon race) was than me. Maybe, in his mind, by beating me, when these other Klingon warriors had failed, it would reaffirm that he was the perfect example of Klingon. The fact that the other patrons in the lounge had been quietly cheering me on, his fellow Starfleet officers, seemingly transfixed at the sight of a human who dared (or was stupid enough) to try and match his puny human strength against much stronger Klingon warriors, and had somehow beat them…well, that certainly wasn't helping matters. The usually taciturn security chief looked pretty pissed off at the moment and was annoying the shit out of me as a result.

Maybe it was the bloodwine affecting me, but I had finally had enough, and moved to sit across from Worf, placing my fist within his. When Worf called out "DAH!" the challenge had begun. Immediately, I felt his arm tighten up as he put all his considerable alien strength into defeating me. For a moment, it looked as if I would be defeated, but then Worf began to lose his advantage as my genetically engineered superhuman-strength easily countered his alien muscles. Ever-so-gradually, and with pretend great effort on my part, I began to win. It took a while as I dragged it out, letting him win for a bit and then surging back with some very over-the-top expressions on my face and serious grunting, but the Klingon found his bare knuckles slamming with a crack into the table when I got bored with the whole thing.

Rather than roar in good humored outrage at his defeat, as the other Klingons had done, Worf simply sat silently, coldly glaring at me through his sweat-dampened hair. His anger seemed to have faded, leaving a bitter resentment. Did he realize I was playing with him and could have won at any time? I kind of hoped he did.

"You have great strength, yet you do not have the heart of a warrior!" he growled.

While my time in the army hadn't been a guns-blazing affair as a combat engineer, I had still put my life on the line with my brothers and sisters in uniform. He was treading close to crossing a line that I could not forgive, no matter how tragic a backstory he had. I also wasn't sure what beating him in arm wrestling had to do with anything other than arm wrestling.

"Humans know nothing of combat," Worf continued. "In your time guns and bombs fought your wars. There is no honor in overcoming an enemy from a faraway place of safety where you cannot see the defeat in their eyes as they look upon you in death… and when you were forced to fight with no weapons, you attack from ambush, from behind – like a coward would."

He was probably referring to my recent adventure on Betazed, where I had indeed attacked from behind, choking Tog out. But he was one to talk – Klingons were infamous for using their cloaking devices and getting off the first shot before their enemy even knew they were there. The Klingons also 'conquered' numerous races whose technology was vastly inferior to theirs, even pre-warp cultures; many such conquered races made up the Empire now. Where was the 'honor' in conquering a people who hadn't even reached space yet?

The truth, as I had found in my own deployments in Iraq and later Afghanistan, is that there were no real rules in war. Sure, there were rules of engagement and violating those could often result in court martial or imprisonment, but the truth was, when your survival was on the line, everyone does whatever they can to stay alive, rarely considering the cost of how those victories are achieved, the cost in both innocent lives and the cost to their souls. It's only after the blood is spilled and innocent lives are lost, that people suddenly remember high-minded ideals like human rights and treaties. Unfortunately, as human history had shown over and over and over again, there was no such as a 'war to end all wars.' There was always another war.

Humanity had a long, bloody history of warfare, not much different than the Klingons. Indeed, our two species both knew a lot about combat and war. Some might even say too much. It might even be why Klingons and humans seemed to constantly be at odds – deep down, we were more alike than either side cared to admit. And now that humanity was part of a larger community of species, those future wars now had a much larger pool of potential enemies to choose from.

"Right, and you've never used a phaser on an enemy from faraway before either, right?" I said, taking another gulp of bloodwine. "As for attacking from ambush, I was aiming to disarm and de-escalate the situation on Betazed, not kill. My actions accomplished that goal, even if not done to your exacting standards. It was I who protected two of your fellow officers, not you. Where were you that day?"

I felt myself lowering my voice, my tone going cold and my neck tensing up - a warning sign to anyone who knew me well that my temper was beginning to show. I cracked my neck to either side to loosen it up without even noticing. Worf had slightly leaned forward, my quieter voice almost egging him on – and positioning his head at almost at the perfect spot for me to hit him.

"Human fighting techniques are crude and flawed," Worf stated. "For Klingons there are many levels of martial combat mastery. When a true Klingon warrior fights, his motion is like a song sung of a battle past, with each action flowing one into the next. It is a song that will be sung for generations to come, but one such as yourself could never find the discipline to master the warrior's way."

"Or maybe you're just trying to find something beautiful in something that's actually terrible. War is a bloody, terrifying mess where real people get hurt or die, sometimes for no rhyme or reason at all, no matter how skilled. It is not some kind of epic adventure, or as cloaked in honor and glory as you seem to think it is. War is filled with horrors. The people who think that battle and war are honorable, beautiful things are often deluding themselves, or have never fought in a war themselves. I don't have to be up close covered in someone's guts to see that."

"Humans do not have the stomach for war, like Klingons do. We are bred for it, while you merely play pretend. Every aspect of our lives is fashioned to make us the greatest of warriors. You…"

I began to tune him out. This conversation had seriously lost track of where it had begun, and admittedly, some of that was my fault, old demons from my past had come out. While I could admit my role in this conversation going off the rails, Worf had really lost control of himself and was now ranting at me like I was the epitome of everything that had gone wrong in his life. The bloodwine and the defeat of multiple Klingons at my hands had obviously pushed him over the edge.

"Then there is your hair," Wolf commented. "You keep it too short!"

That comment snapped me back to reality, and just plain confused me… was he trying to get me to adhere to Klingon customs that warriors adhered to? Were we now engaging in petty insults? Was that even an insult for a Klingon?

"Short hair doesn't get in your eyes," I pointed out slowly, not sure where this was going.

He had a counter for that.

"I wear a warrior's braid to prevent that, and for ease of movement," he returned, as if that was some sort of unassailable explanation. I'm not sure ease of movement would matter much if I could grab hold of that braid, pull his head back hard and then slice his now accessible and vulnerable throat wide open. On second thought, that might actually be why Klingons wore their hair long – it was probably some macho thing about making things harder for themselves so that they could claim that victory would be sweeter. I'd just assumed it was fashion choice.

"And the rest of your clothes are inappropriate," Worf informed me. "You are strong, yet you do not wear armor or the trappings of a warrior so that everyone you meet knows who and what you are."

At this point I'd had quite enough, and my temper finally erupted.

"Where the hell do you get off trying to lecture me on what is or isn't a warrior," I said while standing up, and trying not to lose my balance. I'd drunk a hell of a lot of blood wine in my little experiment to see if I could still get drunk as an Augment. "You Klingons can call yourself mighty and honorable warriors all you want, but really you're nothing more than old fashioned barbarians with fancy tech. You talk about honor and facing your foes in open battle, and then you attack people from your cloaked and hidden ships! You sing songs of glory and conquest, even over races that hadn't even reached space yet! What honor is there in a victory over someone who didn't even know you were there?! What honor is there in conquering a race that has no possibility of winning!"

One of the Klingons jumped up, ready to say something stupid, when I looked him in the eye and let some of the inner darkness that I kept buried within me show in my eyes.

"Sit. Down." I said coldly, my eyes not leaving his. I don't know exactly what he saw in that gaze, but whatever it was, even drunk, he wanted no part of it and sat down quickly. I made sure to look at each of the others, wondering if they had something to say, but they avoided my eyes. I turned back to Worf.

"True honor is earned through integrity and acts of true courage, not senseless bloodshed and conquest over weaker foes," I said to the Klingons. "Your race changes the definition of honor from moment-to-moment to suit yourselves, to justify your desire for violence and conquest, or to preserve your Empire from the many dishonorable acts of the powerful and influential. You, of all people, should know all about that, Worf, son of Mogh."

I'd had enough of this place and the idiot barbarians, so I left. Surprisingly, none of Klingons had tried to stab me in the back as I left Ten Forward. I slowly walked to my quarters, only slightly staggering as my body worked to cleanse itself of the alcohol's effects. Once inside, I was able to get into bed before passing out into an uneasy sleep, filled with the memories of trying to fix bullet ridden vehicles and trying to get the spilled blood of my wounded or dead friends off my clothes.

(Line Break)

Guest Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.

I woke up wanting to piss like a racehorse, but luckily only with a slight headache. No longer experiencing hangovers, in exchange for no longer being able to get drunk, even after a night of heavy drinking, well, it was probably a good tradeoff. After relieving myself, I took a shower and left the bathroom feeling like a new man. A large, but quick breakfast and coffee later, and I went back to studying.

While I was absorbing my latest lesson, I found myself yet again considering the rapid rate at which I was going through material that most people would find extremely challenging. Now, I certainly wasn't a complete blockhead before being brought into this dimension, but my progress seemed too quick, even with my genetic enhancements. Amazingly, I had gone through almost 15 years' worth of 24th century education in less than three weeks, with little trouble.

One potential reason for my success may have been a mental experiment I had conducted that had borne fruit. Various anime had hypothesized that being able to truly multi-task, to hold separate thought processes in parallel, could result in multiplicative results. Doing this not only allowed me to maintain two separate thought processes, which meant double the work in half the time (to oversimplify it), but more effective synthesis of disparate ideas and data points. Knowledge did not exist in a vacuum, scientific principles existed together, interwove, combined, built upon each other, to make all manner of things possible.

It had taken a great deal of work to get my enhanced brain working in this new manner (and several brushes with a coma or death), but once I did, it was like I had been wearing welding goggles all my life and now I was seeing the world for how it truly was for the very first time. I had experienced that once before, when I first woke up in sickbay as an Augment. That had been terrifying and confusing. This time, it had been exhilarating! It was a high greater than any drug.

The Federation was very likely going to secure me a job as a librarian, just as I had requested, though that was likely because they'd essentially be able to dictate where I ended up on Earth. It'd likely be a place they could easily monitor and deal with me if necessary. Even if they gave me a job, I was strongly considering getting my equivalent of a 24th century GED. That would hopefully clean up some of the paperwork surrounding my status in the Federation and assure others I wasn't a 20th century uneducated barbarian. I was also hoping that this would grant me some legitimacy or credibility should I ever come up with a patent or device that I could try and sell sometime in the future and also make it easier to obtain various licenses and permits for other things.

I spent the whole day following my usual routine, except for one thing – tonight I would be going to Riker's quarters for poker, instead of Ten Forward. It was going to be interesting facing off against an experienced card player, an android, an empath, and a Klingon with a legendary poker face who may not be all that happy with me at the moment.

(Line Break)

Riker's Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.

I showed up to the game a couple of minutes early, wanting a little time to mingle with the rest of the players before we started playing. Before coming here, I had decided to play this mostly straight, without using any of my enhanced senses to give me an advantage. I said hello to Riker, Beverly, Deanna, La Forge, and gave a curt nod to Worf, which he ignored. I wouldn't have minded if he would have been replaced by Data, but unfortunately, Data was currently on the evening duty shift on the bridge, so he couldn't attend.

After a few minutes of small talk and getting refreshments, Riker invited us all to sit at his card table. Everyone sat down, the cards were dealt, and the game began.

Playing poker with strangers is an experience fraught with tension. As the new guy, I was dealing with a group that already suspected or knew each other's 'tells' and playing styles, and had changed their own to be more opaque. Yes, the stakes were small, but no one likes to lose – most certainly not me. I played the first couple of games cautiously, feeling everyone out, locking reactions and body language in my memory, but eventually I learned the rhythms of this group and was able to start winning more than I lost. It was tempting at times to lean more heavily on my enhancements, to listen to their heartbeats to detect if they were bluffing, for example, but as this was a friendly game, it felt like cheating. That said, if I were ever to find myself in a more professional game in the future, with real stakes, I'm not sure I would be able to hold myself back. There were many humanoid races in the alpha quadrant with physiological advantages over humanity, they could use their natural gifts and so would I.

We made some small talk throughout the entire game, with only Worf remaining silent – giving us a great impression of an animatronic statue that often glared at me. I found his sulking to be ridiculous and just ignored him. The rest of the evening went fine, ending only because the next day was a work day. I left right after Beverly did, eventually catching up to my favorite redhead so that I could put a hand around her waist and pull her close to my side. She put her head on my shoulder, and gave a smile to my questioning raised eyebrow. Suffice it to say, I spent the night in her quarters… and this time there were no interruptions. I had had a horrible vision of Wesley calling over subspace during the act, her comm screen lighting up to show Wesley's horrified face, but thankfully that hadn't happened.

She begged me to let her sleep by the end, so I let her drift off to sleep, playing the role of big spoon in my cuddling. From the smile I saw on her face, even while sleeping, she was pretty happy with how this night had ended.

The next morning, I wondered to myself how Beverly would handle having her sex drive reawakened and having no available outlet, but figured that wasn't really any of my business. We had made no commitments to each other, but I'll admit I would miss her once I left the ship. She was a lovely woman, very sexy, and very fun to be with. After a morning quickie, we separated with a kiss and went on our ways – her to work in sickbay and me to my daily routine.

(Line Break)

Guest Quarters. U.S.S. Enterprise.

Several days later, the Enterprise was finally at the edge of the Sol system. I made my goodbyes quietly, not wanting a big fuss as I had the feeling that our paths would inevitably cross again. I was leaving the ship with just a small bag filled with toiletries, some clothes I had replicated, and that was about it, as everything else came with the quarters or was ship property. I took a last look around my quarters and walked out without a backwards glance, ready to begin my new life on Earth.

(Line Break)

San Francisco, Earth

I re-energized in a small park. The park looked like it had been sculpted around a large open transporter platform that allowed people to transport to and fro without winding up in the middle of a busy street. It was actually quite pretty the way they'd integrated a piece of advanced technology into an otherwise beautiful and well-manicured park. I knew where I had to go, but getting there was going to be interesting as things had changed significantly in the 300 years since I had last walked an alternate version of these city blocks.

Fortunately for me, I had memorized a detailed map of the current city layout while on the Enterprise, so I knew approximately where I was. I made a mental note to buy a PADD and comm device so that I wouldn't feel so disconnected in the future. Everything was so different, even the streets, but I could sightsee later, as my priority was getting to my new apartment and settling in.

In preparation for my arrival on Earth the Federation had finally given me new identity paperwork and other identification documents, ones recognized the quadrant over. The question of whether I was truly a citizen of the Federation was still a bit uncertain, even now, but that actually worked for me. In the future it might be to my benefit to argue that any laws restricting the rights of a genetically engineered person in the Federation did not actually apply to me as a dimensional and time traveler. The Federation had dealt with both people from the past who had awoken from centuries of cryosleep, as well as time travelers before, so there was legal precedent there already for their integration, but I was the very first dimensional traveler from an alternate Earth they'd had to deal with, one who just so happened to be an Augment.

Yeah…so there were a lot of complicating factors to work through. It could be years before a decision was made there and likely only if I pushed for it, I committed a serious crime, or the Federation itself wanted to restrict me somehow and force its laws upon me for whatever reason.

Thankfully, the Federation and Earth had graciously set me up and treated me like an honored guest, if not an outright citizen. My saving three such important people on Betazed from abduction, including the famous Ambadassor Troi, likely helped in that regard. My situation was not exactly unique, at least not completely, as people from the past had found themselves needing to make new lives for themselves on 24th century Earth, so there were already some procedures in place that smoothed the process. They had even given me a spacious apartment in a futuristic high-rise apartment building in the middle of San Francisco, with one ridiculously nice view of the bay. I could literally see flying cars out my window!

Just like I had expected, they also set me up with a job offer, a position as a librarian at the University of San Francisco, working with their surviving 20th and 21st century historical texts. I was pleasantly surprised at the choice. The University of San Francisco had existed even in my dimension and had been a Jesuit university founded in 1855.

I accepted the job. The choice of University, in the same city as Starfleet Academy? Yeah…that was no accident. The Federation and Starfleet wanted the Augment where they could easily find him, with tons of personnel around to deal with me if necessary. I was just fine with that. Just giving me the job was a favor in my mind, who cares if it was meant as a method of control and limiting the potential damage I could cause. Working in an advanced university library came with access to all manner of resources, resources that would be instrumental in my continued growth and education. My plan was to take full advantage of those resources and see what opportunities came my way; I wasn't exactly committing myself to a life-long occupation with this decision.

It was time to begin this next great adventure.

Thanks again to at16908, the co-author of the new chapters 1-4. While our collaboration didn't work out in the end, you made a lasting impression on this story.

So, what did you guys think of the new and improved chapters 1-4? Who saw Gothic and Beverly Crusher happening? Who saw Gothic and Lwaxana Troi doing the dirty? Should I have him bang Deanna too? What do you want to see Gothic learn as a librarian?

There are many new plot points here that could prove useful for later inclusion in the story, which were your favorite? Leave a review and let me know what you think!