Episode 39 - Conspiracy
Stardate: 41640.5
Earth Standard Date: August 22, 2364.
Location: Galor, Sol System, Mirror Universe
Tyson opened a portal into the bridge of the Galor. Everyone running the bridge, including android duplicates of him and Ro, stood at attention as he and Ensign Ro stepped through. The android-Tyson nodded respectfully.
"Welcome back," it said with perfect inflection.
Vicky entered through another portal, allowing the android duplicates to return to the Personal Reality. The pink-haired woman settled into the captain's chair, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her hand.
"Come to check on things?" she asked.
"What's our status?"
"Still in orbit of Earth," Vicky replied, bringing up a tactical display showing their position relative to other vessels in the system.
"Still? Why?"
Ro moved to a science station, checking the readings.
"After the battle, Picard was honored in a grand ceremony," Vicky explained, projecting images onto a secondary screen. "Parade and everything. Then he had a private meeting with the Emperor, and we've been under orders to remain in place."
The screen displayed footage of Picard standing on a platform before cheering crowds with the Terran Empire insignia prominently displayed behind him.
"Has there been any communication from the Enterprise?" Ro asked.
"Minimal," Vicky said. "But through Data, I know Picard has been having regular meetings with the Emperor and other ship captains and heads of Terran Starfleet. Very hush-hush. No details shared with subordinates."
Tyson crossed his arms, staring at the image of Earth on the viewscreen. "Strange. I figured once they had the chance to push back the Cardassians, they would capitalize immediately."
The console beeped with an incoming transmission alert. Ro analyzed the signal. "Sir, receiving a poorly encrypted communication from the Enterprise. Audio only."
Tyson moved closer to her station. "Origin point?"
"Senior officer quarters," Ro confirmed. "Encryption pattern matches Inquisitor Troi's personal code, but it's... sloppy. Rushed."
"Put it through," Tyson ordered, nodding to Vicky, who activated the bridge's privacy protocols with a quick gesture.
Static crackled through the speakers before Troi's voice emerged, her usual composed tone replaced by something urgent and hushed.
"Tyson, I need your help."
"I'm here. What's happening?"
"It's Picard. Something's wrong. He's been acting strange since the meeting with the Emperor."
Ro and Tyson exchanged concerned glances.
"Define strange," Tyson prompted.
"He's making decisions that don't align with his previous strategies. Aggressive, reckless choices. He ordered the execution of three officers yesterday for minor infractions. That's not his style. He's always been calculated, not wasteful with resources."
"Could be pressure from command," Ro suggested.
"No." Troi's voice hardened. "I've been in his mind. There's something... different. Something I can't quite identify, but it's there, lurking beneath the surface."
"What about Riker? Has he noticed anything?"
"Riker has been reassigned temporarily to assist with a project at Starfleet Headquarters. Convenient timing, wouldn't you say? And he hasn't been heeding my counsel. He's shutting me out of meetings, which has never happened before."
"When did this change begin?" Tyson asked.
"After his private audience with the Emperor. He came back... different. More secretive."
Vicky pulled up fleet deployment data on a secondary screen, scanning for patterns. "Any physical changes? Behavior quirks?"
"He touches the back of his neck frequently," Troi said after a moment's hesitation. "And he's avoiding medical scans. Ordered Dr. Crusher to postpone the standard examinations."
Tyson's expression darkened. "That's concerning."
"He threatened to have me replaced if I continued to question his decisions. I think they're isolating potential threats. Anyone who might notice what's happening."
"What about the other officers who met with the Emperor? Any similar behavioral changes?"
"Yes. Captain Jellico returned to the Stargazer and immediately executed his first officer."
"We need to get you off that ship," Tyson said firmly.
"Not yet. I need to gather more information. Something big is happening. There's talk of a gathering at Starfleet Headquarters. All the affected captains and admirals will be there. Most of the senior officers have been invited. Whatever they're planning—"
The sound of a door chime interrupted her.
"Computer, identify visitor," Troi's voice commanded, suddenly distant from the communication device.
The computer's voice responded faintly. "Lieutenant Hawk and security team."
"Inquisitor Troi," a voice called through the door. "Your presence is required for loyalty verification."
"This is unexpected," she replied, "I wasn't scheduled for—"
"By order of Captain Picard," Hawk continued. "All senior staff must submit to immediate screening."
She lowered her voice. "If I resist, it confirms suspicion. I'll find a way to contact you again."
The sound of the door sliding open came through the transmission.
"Inquisitor," Hawk's voice was closer now.
"Of course, Lieutenant," Troi replied, her voice shifting seamlessly to its usual authoritative tone. "What prompted this sudden security measure?"
"Captain's orders. All senior staff are being collected for immediate loyalty verification."
"Collected? An unusual choice of words, Mr. Hawk—"
The transmission abruptly cut off.
"I'm going," Tyson said. "Ro, you're in charge."
Laren blinked, straightening at her console. "Me?"
"Things might get dicey," Tyson said, already moving toward the center of the bridge. "I need my suit. Plus, isn't it a fun idea to have a Bajoran command a Cardassian cruiser?"
Vicky rose from the captain's chair. "I'll keep you safe."
Ro squared her shoulders, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before resolve took its place. "Alright. First shot at command."
"Don't sweat it," Tyson said. "You're a natural."
Vicky held her hand out, and when Ro took it, the android melted into nanobots and settled invisibly over her uniform like a second skin.
Tyson opened a portal directly into the bedroom of Inquisitor Troi's quarters on the Enterprise.
Lieutenant Hawk stopped short as he appeared from the adjacent bedroom, his hand instinctively moving toward his phaser before recognition dawned on his face.
"Inquisitor Tyson, sir," Hawk said, his voice betraying his surprise. "I wasn't expecting you."
Tyson surveyed the scene quickly. Troi stood near her desk, her eyes revealing relief at his arrival. Two security officers flanked Hawk, immediately on guard at the unexpected arrival.
"I wasn't invited to the meeting," Tyson said coolly. "And I'm not fond of the way you spoke to the Inquisitor."
Hawk put his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm just following the Captain's orders. And we were instructed to collect the Enterprise senior staff. You weren't included since you've been on your own vessel."
The lieutenant still clearly remembered the state Riker was in after fighting the other Inquisitor. Even with a phaser, he wasn't quick to engage the superior officer.
"Stand down, Lieutenant," Tyson said, moving beside Troi. "I'll make sure the Inquisitor makes it to the meeting."
Hawk shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, I can't ignore the captain's orders."
Something in his eyes made Hawk take a small step back. "Then you'll be kindly escorting both of us."
Hawk glanced at his security team, then back at Tyson. After a moment of consideration, he nodded stiffly, deciding not to argue. "This way, please." He gestured toward the door, positioning himself to escort them through the corridors of the Enterprise.
Tyson and Troi followed, flanked by security officers. He immediately noticed they weren't heading toward the observation lounge where senior staff meetings were typically held. Instead, they were being directed to one of the larger diplomatic reception halls, like the space where Counselor Troi had held her wedding reception on his Enterprise. He exchanged a subtle glance with Inquisitor Troi, whose eyes reflected similar suspicion. The change in venue was deliberate, but made sense. The observation lounge had barely accommodated the increased size of the senior staff during their last meeting. This larger space suggested Picard wanted room for something.
Additional security, perhaps? But if Picard intended to make a move against suspected disloyal officers, why gather everyone together? Isolation would be more effective for dealing with potential threats.
"Quite the turnout for a routine meeting," Tyson commented casually.
Lieutenant Hawk kept his eyes forward. "Captain's orders. All senior staff required."
"And the location?" Troi probed.
"I don't question the captain's decisions, Inquisitor."
They approached the reception hall, its doors flanked by two additional security officers who straightened at their approach. Hawk nodded to them, and the doors slid open. The spacious room had been arranged with a large conference table at its center. Several officers were already seated, their conversations halting as Tyson and Troi entered. Captain Picard sat at the head of the table.
Surveying the room quickly, Tyson noted that the Enterprise's senior staff was present. What remained of them, at least. Commander Riker had been temporarily posted to Earth. Lieutenant Yar was being held in Detainment within his Personal Reality. Lieutenant Barclay was aboard the Galor in Engineering. But that still left Chief Engineer La Forge, Commander Data, Dr. Leah Brahms, Commander Quinteros, and Doctors Crusher and Pulaski.
Hawk took a position near the door as Tyson and Troi approached the table.
"What's this about?" Dr. Pulaski asked with her characteristic directness. "Some of us have duties to attend to."
Picard's gaze shifted to her. "Loyalty, Doctor."
His eyes moved to Tyson, unable to hide their surprise. "Commander Tyson, I didn't expect you." He gestured to an empty chair. "Please, sit."
Picard's expression subtly shifted from stern to confused to a more relaxed one. Something had changed in his demeanor upon seeing Tyson. And he'd called him Commander, not Inquisitor. He began, addressing the assembled staff. "The Emperor wasn't pleased with my actions, but I've smoothed over any issues we had." He paused, his fingers drumming briefly on the table. Tyson recognized the hesitation. To him, it seemed apparent that Picard was improvising, clearly deviating from whatever he had initially planned to say.
"You will all be evaluated individually for loyalty," Picard continued. "I will conduct these evaluations personally."
Troi's eyes narrowed slightly at this announcement.
"Not the Inquisitors?" La Forge asked, glancing between Troi and Tyson.
"No," Picard replied firmly. "This matter requires my direct attention."
Tyson's suspicion deepened. "And Commander Tyson," he added, turning his attention fully to him. "Starfleet Command would like to host a dinner in your honor for your service in capturing the Galor and your efforts in keeping the Klingons out of our conflict. We'll depart immediately."
"Yes, sir."
"The rest of you, dismissed," Picard announced. "Expect my evaluation when I return. Some of you will receive invitations as well. Please make all necessary preparations."
The senior staff exchanged glances, clearly displeased at being summoned only to be dismissed. Nevertheless, they rose from their seats without verbal complaint, filing toward the exit.
As the officers departed, Tyson grasped Troi's arm gently, leaning close to her ear. "When you get back to your quarters, contact Ro on the Galor," he whispered. "We'll move you over there until we're sure it's safe here."
None of the others heard his words as they filed out. Troi gave a subtle nod, her eyes meeting his briefly before she turned to follow the departing officers.
Tyson followed Picard through the corridors of the Enterprise, maintaining a respectful distance behind the captain's left shoulder. The ship's lighting seemed harsher than usual, casting sharp shadows across Picard's features as they walked. Few crew members crossed their path, and those who did quickly pressed themselves against the bulkheads, eyes downcast.
"The Emperor was quite impressed with your handling of the Klingons," Picard remarked.
"I merely saw an opportunity and took it."
"Opportunism is valued in the Empire," Picard said. "As is loyalty."
They rounded a corner, and Picard paused briefly to adjust his uniform collar.
As he turned his head, Tyson caught sight of a small appendage protruding from the back of the captain's neck. He only caught a fleeting glance before Picard's hand covered it. Yet he didn't comment, and kept his expression neutral despite the alarm bells ringing in his mind. It looked organic, like a small tail or tentacle.
"The Emperor has expressed interest in your background," Picard continued as they resumed walking. "Your rise through the ranks has been... unconventional."
"I've always found conventional paths limiting," Tyson replied. The way Picard was speaking, it was almost like he wasn't aware of how Tyson had been promoted to Commander, though it had been Picard himself who had done so.
The seeming familiarity without knowledge of the details was troubling, but revealing. Tyson was beginning to piece together what was happening from his meta-knowledge.
In this world, the Emperor was Quinn. In the Prime universe, Admiral Quinn had visited the Enterprise, insisting on speaking privately with Picard, intent on finding evidence that there wasn't anything wrong with him. It was the same day Ensign Ro had arrived on the Enterprise.
The pieces clicked into place as Tyson recalled this episode. In the Prime universe, parasitic aliens had infiltrated Starfleet, taking over the bodies of high-ranking officers. Quinn had been one of the first to notice something was wrong, though in the show, he, too, had eventually been compromised.
"We're approaching a new era for the Empire," Picard said as they entered the turbolift. "Deck six," he commanded, and the lift hummed to life. "An era of greater unity. The Emperor has plans that will strengthen our position against both the Klingons and the Cardassian Union."
The turbolift slowed to a stop, and as Picard turned to exit, Tyson caught another glimpse of the appendage.
Definitely not human.
"You seem distracted, Commander," Picard noted as they walked toward the transporter room.
"Just considering the implications of this new era," Tyson replied smoothly. "Change often brings opportunity."
"Indeed, it does."
They entered the transporter room where two security officers flanked the platform, phasers holstered but hands resting on their weapons.
"Coordinates for Starfleet Headquarters are set, Captain," the transporter chief reported.
"Excellent," Picard said, stepping onto the transporter pad. He gestured for Tyson to join him. "Have the others join us shortly. Energize."
As the familiar tingling sensation began to wash over him, Tyson realized he was about to beam directly into what was likely the heart of the parasite's operation.
Unlike the events he remembered from the show, in this universe, Picard had already been taken, and the infestation was spreading unchecked through Starfleet's highest ranks.
The transporter room dissolved around them, replaced moments later by the grand reception hall of Starfleet Headquarters. The space was filled with officers, admirals, captains, and commanders from across the fleet. At the center stood a figure Tyson recognized as this universe's Admiral Quinn, the Emperor, surrounded by an honor guard.
"Captain Picard," the Emperor greeted, his voice carrying across the hall. "And Commander Tyson, the heroes of our recent victory."
As they approached, he noted that behind the Emperor stood Admiral Hanson and several other high-ranking officers he recognized from the battle against the Cardassians.
"Your Excellency," Picard said with a bow. "I've brought Commander Tyson as requested."
The Emperor's gaze fell on Tyson, assessing. "Commander, your tactical brilliance has not gone unnoticed. The Empire rewards those who serve it well."
"I'm honored by your recognition."
"Tonight we celebrate," the Emperor announced to the gathered officers. "Tomorrow, we begin the next phase of our expansion."
Servants moved through the crowd with trays of food and drink. Tyson accepted a glass but made no move to consume its contents.
"You seem hesitant, Commander," the Emperor noted.
"Not hesitant, Your Excellency. Overwhelmed."
The Emperor smiled, the expression as hollow as Picard's had been. "Captain Picard speaks highly of you. He believes you would make an excellent addition to our inner circle."
Tyson caught the meaning behind those words. They wanted to infect him, too.
"The captain is generous with his praise," Tyson said, inclining his head toward Picard.
He surveyed the room filled with Starfleet's highest-ranking officers. The situation had deteriorated far beyond what he'd anticipated. These parasitic creatures had infiltrated the upper echelons of the Terran Empire, and now they wanted him to join their ranks. Tyson considered his options carefully. Allowing one of those parasites anywhere near his body was out of the question, regardless of his Untainted Perk that made him immune to mind control. The real question was timing and approach. Should he expose them publicly, creating chaos but potentially warning uninfected officers? Or wait for their inevitable attempt to infect him? Or since he was immune, he could play along until the right moment…
Nah.
This universe was fundamentally broken. An aggressive enslaving culture pressed on all sides by equally brutal enemies, now with its leadership infected by parasitic aliens.
The whole place needed to be burned to the ground.
He had no way of knowing who remained uninfested among the gathered officers. Nothing registered distinctly in his Force senses or empathy.
Except for the Emperor.
Quinn gave off a sense of wrongness, like he was dirty, like touching something fundamentally unclean. Not in the same way as feeling the Dark Side. The sensation wasn't the cold, oily feeling of darkness in the Force. This was something else entirely.
Tyson watched as the Emperor moved through the crowd, stopping occasionally to speak with various officers. Each conversation ended with subtle nods and knowing looks, as if they were coordinating something, perhaps planning the next wave of infections.
He caught glimpses of familiar faces from the Enterprise crew scattered throughout the reception. Dr. Crusher stood near a viewport, engaged in conversation with an admiral he didn't recognize. La Forge and Data were positioned near one of the exits, observing the proceedings.
Troi was conspicuously absent, hopefully, safely in the Galor.
The Emperor approached him again, this time with a glass raised in a toast.
"Commander Tyson," Quinn said, his voice carrying just enough to draw the attention of nearby officers. "Everyone is looking forward to your speech. Are you ready?"
Tyson blinked. "Speech?"
No one had mentioned anything about a speech. This was clearly an improvisation, perhaps designed to put him on the spot or isolate him at the podium, or keep him off balance. Either way, it presented an opportunity he hadn't anticipated.
The Emperor's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. As our guest of honor, we expected a few words about your recent victories and your vision for the Empire's future, Commander."
The subtle emphasis on his rank felt like a reminder of his place in their hierarchy. These creatures thought they were manipulating him, using his ambition against him.
They had no idea what they were dealing with.
"I appreciate the opportunity," Tyson replied smoothly. "I'd be honored to address the gathering."
The Emperor seemed satisfied with his compliance. "Excellent. We'll hear from you shortly."
As Quinn moved away to speak with another group of officers, Tyson took stock of the room's layout. The main entrance was guarded by security personnel, all likely infected. The service entrances would be similarly watched. The windows overlooked San Francisco Bay, a significant drop to the water below.
The speech would give him a platform, but what then? He couldn't fight the entire room alone… Well, he probably could. Catching sight of Data across the room, he knew he'd have one reliable ally.
The Emperor returned to the center of the room, raising his hands for silence. The gathered officers turned their attention to him.
"Distinguished officers of the Terran Empire," Quinn began. "We stand at the threshold of a new era. Our recent victories against the Cardassians have demonstrated our strength, but they are merely the beginning." Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd. "Tonight, we honor one whose tactical brilliance has served the Empire well." The Emperor gestured toward Tyson. "Commander Tyson, whose unconventional methods have proven most effective."
Applause filled the room, though Tyson noted it lacked genuine enthusiasm. These were performances, puppets clapping because their strings were pulled.
"Commander," the Emperor continued, "would you honor us with your thoughts on the future of our great Empire?"
This was it.
They wanted to surprise him by making him give a speech? Then, he'd surprise them right back.
Tyson stood, drawing everyone's attention toward him. "Thank you, Emperor Quinn, for that introduction. If you don't know what he was speaking of, our fleet, led by the Enterprise, defeated a Cardassian fleet, destroying or capturing half a dozen vessels. It was the greatest Terran victory in a decade."
The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. Officers raised their glasses in celebration. Several admirals nodded approvingly, while captains exchanged satisfied glances.
As the noise gradually subsided, Tyson waited. When silence finally returned, he continued, "The Emperor wants me to describe my vision for the Empire." Quinn smiled thinly. "My vision is that our greatest enemies lurk outside our borders, not around the corner. That our allies stand beside us, not below us as slaves."
Murmurs rippled through the gathering. Some officers exchanged confused glances, while others frowned deeply. "The Emperor proclaimed our great victory," Tyson continued. "But I hate to say it, Emperor, that wasn't our victory."
"It was my victory."
The murmurs grew louder. Quinn's expression darkened.
"I was the one to capture the first Cardassian vessel. I was the one who secured our flagship, the Enterprise. I was the one who forged our alliance with the Klingons that will allow us to push past the Sol system and into the wider galaxy." Several officers nodded reluctantly, acknowledging the truth of his statements. Others looked to Quinn, gauging his reaction. The security personnel at the doors straightened, hands moving subtly toward their weapons.
"The Terran Empire is filled with corruption," Tyson declared. "And I don't mean the corruption of bureaucracy, or anything so mundane. I mean a true corrupting influence in the Empire."
The room grew deathly quiet.
"And it started from the top. With the Emperor."
Gasps echoed through the hall. Captain Picard, Admiral Hanson, and many other officers' faces contorted with rage.
"I ask you, fellow captains and officers," Tyson pressed on, "if we had the greatest victory in years against the Cardassians, and the Klingons are staying out of our way... why are we here? Why haven't we pushed even to the nearest systems like Vulcan or Andoria, areas we could certainly hold?"
Some officers nodded thoughtfully, while others looked to their peers in confusion. The security personnel had now fully unholstered their weapons, though they awaited orders before acting.
Tyson pointed directly at Quinn. "Because of our Emperor. Not because he's cautious or strategic. Because he's been taken over by an alien entity."
The accusation hung in the air for a moment before chaos erupted. Shouts of "Treason!" mingled with confused questions. Officers backed away from Quinn, who remained eerily still, his eyes fixed on Tyson.
Suddenly, thanks to his Master With Your Hands Perk, Tyson's phase pistol was in his hand, and he shot Emperor Quinn. The blast caused his head to explode outward as he tumbled to the ground.
The crowd went into an uproar at the assassination.
But before anyone could truly act against Tyson, Quinn, missing his head, sat up, and a giant worm-like creature rose from his body where his neck used to be.
And all hell broke loose.
In the initial chaos, no one knew who to fight. Officers scattered in all directions, some drawing weapons while others sought cover behind overturned tables. The room erupted with shouts and phaser fire as panic spread through the gathering.
The infested stood out quickly as they revealed their superhuman strength and resistance to being stunned by phasers. An admiral lifted a heavy table with one hand, hurling it across the room. A captain snapped a security officer's neck with frightening ease. At the center of it all, the massive worm that had emerged from Quinn's body abandoned it to writhe on the floor, its segmented form glistening with slime as it sought a new host. The creature stretched nearly two meters long, with pincers at its head and dozens of tiny legs along its length.
Tyson tracked the creature's movements while dodging phaser fire from both sides. He knew he needed to kill the mother parasite, but first, he also needed a plan for the aftermath. The immediate crisis had everyone focused on survival. But once this was over, attention would shift quickly. He had, after all, just killed the Emperor of the Terran Empire.
There was a void in the Terran power structure that he needed to replace. But he certainly didn't want to be the Emperor.
"Vicky, patch me through to the Galor," Tyson said, ducking behind a pillar as a phaser blast scorched the wall beside him.
After a brief moment, Ro's voice came through. "Ro here."
"Is Troi there?" Tyson asked, peering around the pillar to track the mother parasite's movements.
"I'm here, Tyson, I got off the Enterprise safely," Troi's voice replied.
Tyson fired his phaser at an infected security officer charging toward him, dropping the man with a precise shot, set to kill.
"How would you like to be Empress?"
A moment of silence followed before Troi responded, "This isn't a time to joke. Vicky is projecting the fight down there. It looks like a massacre."
"Not a joke," Tyson replied, rolling away from his position as another infected officer spotted him. "In five minutes or so, this Empire is going to need a new leader, and I'm not interested. Not-for-nothing, your universe sucks." He fired again, catching the officer in the chest. "Vicky, move the Galor into the Personal Reality. Ro, you can wait there or head back to the Enterprise. Inquisitor, you have until the ship is inside to decide."
Tyson closed the communication and surveyed the battlefield that the reception hall had become. Bodies littered the floor, some moving, others still. The uninfected officers had formed defensive positions, working together despite their usual cutthroat competition.
"Vicky, inside the Grey Goo Suit, asked, "What's the plan?"
"When Troi says yes, transfer your main body to her and get down here," Tyson explained, moving toward a better vantage point. "Once I take care of this, we'll have a Duel of the Fates where Troi wins and I swear fealty to her."
"She's not a fighter," Vicky pointed out.
Tyson spotted Data, still under Vicky's control, across the room, efficiently dispatching infected officers. "For now, you can guide her movements. Have the Clarktech Matter Printer begin making some Soong-type bodyguards for her."
The mother parasite had begun moving toward a fallen admiral, its pincers opening wide as it prepared to take a new host. Tyson aimed his phaser, but hesitated when he spotted movement behind the creature.
Captain Picard emerged from behind an overturned table, his uniform torn and bloodied. As he spotted Tyson, he charged.
Tyson sidestepped the attack, using Picard's momentum to throw him into a nearby wall. The captain recovered quickly, turning with a snarl.
"You've ruined everything," Picard hissed. "We would have given you power beyond imagination."
"I've already got plenty of power," Tyson replied. "And whatever power you'd offer isn't worth sharing my body with one of you little grubs."
Picard lunged again, but this time Tyson caught the captain's arm and twisted, forcing him to the ground. With a precise strike, Tyson struck the back of Picard's neck. The captain grunted before collapsing unconscious.
The mother parasite had reached the admiral and was beginning to attach itself when a phaser beam struck it directly. The creature writhed in agony. Tyson turned to see Data-Vivky approaching, phaser still aimed at the creature. "Commander, I believe this is the primary organism."
"Good shot, Data," Tyson acknowledged. "We need to make sure it's dead."
Together, they approached the wounded parasite, which continued to thrash despite its injury. Tyson raised his Lightsaber to deliver the killing blow when a shout from across the room drew his attention.
Admiral Hanson, clearly infected, had taken a young lieutenant hostage, holding a phaser to her head. "Stand down, or she dies!"
The fighting around them paused as officers on both sides assessed this new development. Tyson lowered his weapon slightly, calculating his options.
"You've lost, Admiral," Tyson called out. "The mother parasite is weak. I kill it, the rest of you will follow."
"We are legion," Hanson snarled. "Kill one, and a thousand more will come."
The standoff stretched tense seconds into what felt like minutes. Tyson needed to end this decisively.
A flash of movement caught his eye as a portal silently opened in a quiet corner of the room. Through it stepped Troi. Their eyes met across the battlefield, and she gave a subtle nod.
Tyson allowed himself a small smile. He raised his voice and announced, "I think you're bluffing," then he thrust his Lightsaber down into the mother.
The other officers and admirals hosting parasites seized up simultaneously, their bodies going rigid before collapsing to the floor. Some twitched briefly then lay still, while others simply crumpled where they stood. The sudden silence that followed the chaos was almost more unsettling than the battle had been.
The remaining Terran Starfleet officers looked around in confusion, weapons still drawn but with no clear targets. Gradually, all eyes turned toward Tyson, standing in the center of the room with his lightsaber still humming in his hand, the mother parasite's remains smoldering at his feet. He surveyed the room, noting the mixture of fear, awe, and calculation in the officers' expressions. These were Terrans, raised in a culture of opportunism and ambition. The power vacuum he'd just created would need to be filled immediately, or chaos would follow.
Raising his voice to carry throughout the hall, he announced, "And I ended this invasion of the Terran Empire. Do any dare challenge my right to rule?"
He pointed his lightsaber at the crowd, its green glow casting harsh shadows across his face. The blade hummed menacingly as he slowly swept it across the gathering, meeting the eyes of admirals and captains who quickly looked away. The room remained silent. Officers exchanged glances, but none stepped forward. Some even took small steps backward, distancing themselves from any potential confrontation. Tyson could almost see the calculations happening behind their eyes; weighing loyalty against survival, ambition against practicality.
One bold Commander fired his phaser at Tyson's back. Without even looking at the man, he spun his weapon around behind him, deflecting the beam back and killing him.
"Anyone else?"
"I challenge you."
The voice rang out clear and confident from the edge of the room. Heads turned to see Inquisitor Troi. Vicky had taken some liberties with her uniform, garbing her in an immaculate battle dress, reminiscent of Jedi Battle Robes, but black, form-fitting, and stylish.
"Deanna?"
Tyson allowed surprise to register on his face, as if he had been caught entirely off guard by her challenge.
But inwardly, he smiled. She was playing her part perfectly.
Troi stepped forward, her boots clicking against the marble floor as she moved through the crowd. Officers parted before her, hastily clearing her a path.
"That's Inquisitor Troi to you," she corrected in an imperious tone. "The only reason you're here is because of me." She continued advancing toward him, her posture radiating absolute confidence. "I raised you from being a lowly Lieutenant hiding in Engineering. I whispered in Picard's ear to have him send you to the Galor to capture it."
Murmurs spread through the crowd as officers considered the revelations. Some nodded, finding this explanation believable for Tyson's sudden rise to prominence.
"I placed the pieces where I wanted them so the Enterprise could be secured," Troi continued, now only meters away from Tyson. "I put you in a position of power to negotiate with the Klingons."
She stopped, standing directly before him now, unintimidated by his weapon. "And I keyed you in to this invasion." Her dark eyes bored into his.
"You're not a leader. You're a pawn."
The gathered officers watched with rapt attention, sensing the shift in power happening before them. Some had already begun to edge closer to Troi's side of the confrontation, subtly aligning themselves with her.
Troi held out her own lightsaber. With a snap-hiss, a crimson blade ignited, casting her face in an eerie red glow that contrasted with Tyson's green.
The officers gasped collectively, stepping back to give the combatants space. None had seen such weapons before today, and the display further cemented the importance of this confrontation.
Tyson adjusted his stance, bringing his lightsaber up in a defensive position. His face showed determination, but behind his eyes, he smiled at how masterfully Troi was playing her role. The conviction in her voice, the authority in her posture; she embodied the would-be Empress persona perfectly.
Yet as they circled each other, preparing for combat, a small doubt crept into Tyson's mind. How much of this was truly an act? The gleam in Troi's eyes held a hunger or an ambition awakened by the prospect of real power. He wondered how much of this performance stemmed from the role they'd agreed upon, and how much might be Troi waiting for her moment, a moment that had suddenly presented itself in the form of an Empire without an Emperor.
The officers around them held their breath, waiting for the first strike in what would determine the future of the Terran Empire.
Tyson made the first move, lunging forward with a powerful overhead strike. Troi's eyes grew wide in fear as the blade descended toward her, but her arms moved with sudden speed, bringing her crimson saber up to intercept his attack with a crackling hiss of energy. Their blades locked, and her expression shifted from fear to confidence.
"You'll have to do better than that," she taunted, getting back into character.
With a twist of her wrist, she disengaged and spun away. The gathered officers scrambled backward, pressing against the walls to escape the deadly duel unfolding before them.
Tyson pressed forward with a series of quick jabs, testing her defenses. Each thrust was met with a precise parry, the blades sizzling and spitting energy where they connected. He recognized Vicky's control of her movements, just as he'd planned.
"Not bad," Tyson called out, feinting left before spinning into a low sweep aimed at her legs.
Troi leapt over the attack, somersaulting through the air and landing behind him. She immediately countered with a diagonal slash that would have bisected him had he not twisted away at the last moment.
Their blades clashed again, before the two combatants separated, circling each other with measured steps.
Tyson launched into a flurry of attacks, his blade becoming a whirlwind of light. The speed of his assault forced Troi backward, her crimson blade barely keeping pace with his onslaught.
For a moment, it seemed Tyson would overwhelm her. Then Troi planted her feet firmly and adopted a defensive stance. Her movements became economical, precise, redirecting his attacks rather than meeting them head-on. When his momentum faltered for just a fraction of a second, she countered.
Her crimson blade slipped past his defense, scoring a shallow burn across his shoulder. He hissed in pain but used the moment to catch her blade against his, locking them together once more.
Their faces were inches apart, illuminated by the clashing energies of their weapons. This close, Tyson could see the subtle shifts in her expression; calculation, concentration, and beneath it all, elation.
She was enjoying this.
With a sudden push, Tyson broke the blade lock and kicked off a nearby pillar, launching himself over Troi's head. He twisted in mid-air, bringing his saber down in an arc that would have cleaved her in two had she not sensed the attack coming. She rolled forward, evading his strike, and came up with her blade extended behind her, perfectly positioned to block his follow-up attack.
The gathered officers watched in awe as Troi advanced, attacking with a combination of precision strikes aimed at vital points, interspersed with powerful slashes. Tyson found himself genuinely challenged to keep pace with her unpredictable rhythm.
A diagonal slash forced him to leap backward onto a banquet table. Tyson kicked a platter toward her face, forcing her to bisect it with her saber. In that brief opening, he flipped over her head, landing behind her and sweeping his blade at her exposed back.
Vicky sensed the attack and dropped to one knee, the blade passing harmlessly over her head. In the same motion, she thrust her saber backward, forcing Tyson to twist awkwardly to avoid being impaled. He spun to face her, but not before her crimson blade sliced across his back yet again. He fell back with the strike to minimize the damage.
Troi stood over Tyson, her crimson lightsaber pointed at his throat, humming menacingly.
"Submit," she ordered, her voice carrying throughout the silent hall.
The gathered officers watched with bated breath. Some leaned forward, eager to witness the final moment of this unprecedented duel. Tyson looked up at her, his chest heaving from exertion. Blood seeped from the wound on his back. With deliberate slowness, he deactivated his lightsaber. The green blade retracted with a distinctive hiss, leaving only Troi's crimson saber illuminating the space between them. He placed the hilt on the floor and pushed it toward her feet.
"I submit," he announced, clear and carrying to every corner of the hall.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Officers exchanged glances, some nodding in approval, others frowning in disappointment or confusion. A few hands moved subtly toward weapons, then stopped as they gauged the room's reaction.
Troi's presence seemed to grow as she accepted his surrender. "That is not enough," she declared. "Swear your loyalty to me."
Placing both knees on the cold marble floor, he bowed his head in a gesture of supplication. "I swear my loyalty to Empress Troi," he proclaimed. "My skills, my knowledge, my power, all are yours to command."
The title hung in the air.
Empress.
Not Admiral, not Inquisitor, but Empress. The declaration was bold, unprecedented, yet spoken with such certainty that it seemed to solidify the reality around them.
Troi allowed the moment to stretch, her blade still humming near Tyson's neck. The officers watched, transfixed by the powerful warrior kneeling in submission, the woman standing victorious over him. Finally, she deactivated her lightsaber.
"Rise, Tyson," she said, her voice carrying a new weight of authority. "You will serve as my right hand, the first of my Inquisitors."
Tyson rose to his feet, keeping his head slightly bowed in deference. "As you command, Empress."
She moved to the center of the hall, positioning herself where former-Emperor Quinn had stood just minutes before. The symbolism was not lost on anyone present.
"The Empire stands at a crossroads," she continued, her gaze sweeping across the gathered officers. "Our enemies gather at our borders. Cardassians, Klingons, and now we face a new threat, one that nearly succeeded in taking control of our highest levels of command from the inside."
She gestured to the remains of the mother parasite, still smoldering on the floor. "I have the knowledge to protect us from these creatures. I have the vision to strengthen our borders. And as you have witnessed, I have strength and power beyond what any of you imagined possible."
Her words resonated through the hall, compelling and authoritative. "More importantly, I have loyal commanders with equally impressive abilities." She gestured to Tyson. "Together, we will forge a stronger Empire, one that dominates through intelligence and strategic power rather than mere brutality."
Captain Jellico, who'd regained consciousness, called out, "And what assurances do we have that you won't simply continue the Emperor's policies? Or the disastrous ones implemented by Spock"
Troi pointed the lightsaber at him. "You have none, Captain. What you do have is a choice. Support me and help shape this new direction, or oppose me and face the consequences." The implied threat hung in the air, but it was tempered by the promise of opportunity for those willing to adapt.
Tyson moved to stand beside Troi, his posture now that of a protector rather than an adversary. "The Empress has already demonstrated her tactical brilliance by positioning assets where they could be most effective to support her rise and stem the parasite invasion. Imagine what she could accomplish with your support rather than your unknowing manipulation."
A moment of silence followed as the officers considered their options. Then, slowly, an old Admiral, Jameson lowered himself to one knee before Troi.
"Empress," he acknowledged.
Captain Jellico followed suit a moment later. One by one, the officers throughout the hall knelt, some eagerly, others reluctantly, but all recognizing the new reality of power before them.
The watching Terrans slowly fell to their knees, until every person in the hall had acknowledged Troi as their new Empress.
— Star Jumper —
Tyson entered the bridge of the Enterprise-D; his expression immediately caught Picard's attention. The captain had grown accustomed to the Commander's typically confident, slightly playful demeanor, making this shift all the more striking.
"Captain Picard, could we have a word in your ready room?"
"Of course, Commander."
The ready room doors slid shut behind them with their familiar hiss. Picard moved to his desk but remained standing as he faced Tyson.
"Is something wrong?"
"We have a big problem. I just returned from the Mirror Universe. The Emperor was taken over by a mind-controlling parasite."
Picard's eyebrows rose slightly. "That is troubling."
"That's only half of it. It was Emperor Quinn, as in Admiral Quinn. Remember when he was here? He was worried about an alien parasite in you and wanted to see you examined thoroughly."
The pieces clicked into place within Picard's mind. "You think this is the threat he was concerned about."
"It's too convenient to be a coincidence. The admiral shows up here, insists on examining you for parasites, then disappears back to Earth. Meanwhile, his mirror-counterpart is being controlled by the very thing he claimed to be hunting."
Picard finally sank into his chair, fingers steepled as he processed the information. "You're concerned that Admiral Quinn, here, has been similarly affected?"
"I am." Tyson stopped pacing and faced the captain directly. "In the Mirror Universe, Quinn had the mother parasite inside him. When it was killed, the other parasites died, almost like they had a link or bond. It's the key. Otherwise, we'd be hunting parasites forever throughout Starfleet."
Picard could see the logic in Tyson's reasoning, but the implications were staggering. "But Emperor Quinn was killed?"
"Yes. I'm hoping we can reach Admiral Quinn here and bring him to the Medical Bay, remove the parasite, then kill it, freeing anyone else within Starfleet that's been infected."
Picard's expression grew troubled. The political ramifications alone could destroy careers, not to mention the potential for catastrophic failure. "You're proposing confronting and abducting an Admiral."
"Better than killing an Admiral," Tyson replied. "The parasites can be detected with a medical tricorder, if you're looking. If I'm wrong, worst case, we're a few days late for our next stop and get a slap on the wrist for diverting our course."
Picard nodded slowly, recognizing the truth in that statement. The alternative scenarios were far worse than the risks they would be taking. "You're right, of course." He paused, considering their options. "You've said previously that you had a contact within Starfleet Intelligence with Admiral Necheyev. Were you able to consult them?"
"My liaison approved the mission and bumped it up the chain to the admiral. I didn't get approval from her directly, but he assured me she'd support our actions if it came under question from Starfleet Command."
The captain stood, his decision crystallizing as he weighed the risks against the potential threat to the Federation itself. If parasites had indeed infiltrated the highest levels of Starfleet Command, every moment of delay could mean further contamination of the chain of command. The thought of alien entities controlling admirals, making decisions that affected billions of lives across the Federation, sent a chill down his spine.
"Then let us not delay. This is an attack at the heart of Starfleet."
The ready room doors parted as they approached, revealing the bridge. Officers at their stations were unaware of the conversation that had just taken place or the mission that lay ahead of them.
"Lieutenant Laforge, set a course for Earth, maximum warp. Our examination of the star in the Delos system will need to wait."
"Aye, sir."
— Star Jumper —
"Approaching Earth, sir," LaForge announced from the helm.
"Standard orbit," Picard commanded.
"Standard orbit, sir."
Picard's fingers drummed against the armrest as he surveyed the bridge. "Any word from Starfleet Command, Data?"
"Nothing so far, sir."
"Strange." Unscheduled arrivals by the flagship typically generated immediate attention from Command. The silence felt ominous.
The sight of home should have been comforting, but for Tyson, the beautiful view was marred by the circumstances of their detour.
"Captain, I am now receiving a message from Starfleet Command."
"On screen."
The viewscreen flickered, replacing the image of Earth with the interior of what appeared to be a conference room at Starfleet Headquarters. Three elder admirals sat behind a desk; two humans flanked a distinguished Vulcan.
"Greetings, Enterprise, I am Admiral Savar. This is Admiral Aaron, and I believe you already know Admiral Quinn."
Picard rose from his chair. "Yes, indeed. It's good to see you again, Admiral."
Quinn's features creased into a smile. "And you, Captain."
Savar studied Picard through the viewscreen. "Of course. We are always delighted when the Enterprise returns to the nest. Yet we are puzzled by the timing of your visit."
"Yes, sir. I can imagine you would be."
"Explain yourself, Captain. Why have you returned to Earth?" Admiral Aaron ordered.
"I would rather discuss in person, Admiral," Picard deflected.
Commander Remmick approached beside Admiral Savar to whisper something into the Vulcan's ear. Riker's jaw tightened imperceptibly at the sight of the man who had investigated their ship and Picard during their last encounter.
"Excuse us for one moment, Captain," Savar said, his hand moving to stop the transmission.
The viewscreen went black.
"Counsellor, any thoughts?" Picard asked, turning to Troi.
"Hard to say. Someone is hiding something, but I can't tell who or what."
Riker shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I must say I'm not overjoyed to see Remmick again."
"Considering we've made an unscheduled stop, their response has been pretty mild," LaForge added from his station.
Worf said, "I don't like it. Something seems off."
The transmission resumed, "Forgive the delay, Captain Picard. We'd be delighted if you and your First Officer would join us for dinner."
Aaron nodded enthusiastically, perhaps too enthusiastically. "Yes. Delighted."
"It would give you a good opportunity to expatiate your viewpoint," Savar continued.
Aaron's smile seemed forced as he added, "To elaborate upon whatever it is that's troubling you."
Picard exchanged a meaningful glance with Tyson before responding. "Thank you. However, Commander Riker has duties to attend to and will be remaining on the Enterprise. Commander Tyson will be accompanying me. We accept your gracious offer."
The three admirals exchanged glances, a moment of silent communication passing between them. Remmick leaned in again, whispering urgently in Savar's ear.
"Excellent, Captain," Savar replied after the brief consultation. "Preparations are already underway. We look forward to seeing you and one of Starfleet's rising stars."
Aaron's smile broadened, though it failed to reach his eyes. "We'll greet you in the reception area in, say, twenty minutes?"
"Splendid."
The viewscreen went dark, returning to the image of Earth hanging serenely in space. The bridge fell silent, its occupants harboring unspoken concerns.
Riker turned in his chair. "Captain, will you explain what's going on?"
Picard paused, studying the faces of his bridge crew. These officers had served with him, earned his trust through their competence and loyalty. Yet the nature of their current mission demanded discretion.
"I hope that there is no cause for concern and that I can return to say this layover only served to bring Commander Tyson to Earth, should we ever need to return with expedience."
Data's head tilted slightly. "That is prudent, sir."
"Number One, you have the bridge."
The turbolift doors closed behind them with a soft hiss, sealing Picard and Tyson away from the bridge crew's curiosity. "Those infected by the smaller parasites can be identified by a pair of small tendrils protruding from the back of their neck," Tyson said, "Before we beam down, I'd like to give you a protective suit, again, just like when we retook the Enterprise from the Bynars."
"You're expecting combat?"
"Yes. The parasite-infected have enhanced strength and durability."
"Very well."
Tyson opened a small portal, the familiar shimmer of displaced space appearing beside him. The Gray Goo Suit flowed off his body like liquid mercury, streaming across the small space to envelope Picard. Simultaneously, Vicky streamed through the portal, her nanobotic form seamlessly replacing Tyson's suit.
The turbolift came to a smooth stop, and the doors parted to reveal the corridor beyond. They stepped out together. "We should probably apprise Dr. Crusher of the situation," Picard said.
"Good idea. Vicky, send Dr. Crusher everything we know about the parasites. We'll make a quick stop there before heading to the transporter room."
The familiar tingle of the transporter beam faded as Picard and Tyson materialized in the reception area of Starfleet Headquarters. The space lacked the expected bustle of activity expected at the heart of Federation operations.
"Good to see you." Admiral Quinn said as he approached.
"You remember Commander Tyson," Picard said, gesturing toward his companion.
"Hello again, Commander." Quinn's smile seemed genuine enough.
Picard studied the Admiral's face carefully. "I must say, you're looking remarkably well."
"Never felt better in my life," Quinn responded.
"When I last saw you, you were saying that you were feeling tired."
Quinn waved dismissively. "Tired of life I was, but not anymore. I'm ready for new challenges now."
Picard exchanged a subtle glance with Tyson before continuing. "Remember what you told me back at Relva Seven, about the threat that you perceived to the very fabric of the Federation?"
"Is that why you're here? Because of what I said?"
"It's one of the reasons, yes."
"But Jean-Luc, you took me far too literally." Quinn's laugh sounded forced. "I was only referring to the problems involved in assimilating new races into the Federation. It's an ongoing, tumultuous process which can cause stress and strain on every aspect of our alliance."
"I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood."
"It's not for you to apologize. If I led you up the garden path, I humbly ask your forgiveness."
"Of course."
Quinn gestured toward the inner corridors. "Now, gentlemen, we have a dinner to attend."
They moved deeper into the complex, and the reception area gave way to more formal spaces. Admiral Savar waited for them in the next chamber with Admiral Aaron, whose smile seemed too wide, too eager.
"Welcome home, Captain Picard. And Commander Tyson, reports on your progress have been quite remarkable."
"Thank you, sir," Tyson replied.
"You've met Commander Remmick, haven't you?"
Remmick's previous investigation of the Enterprise had left a cold impression.
"It's nice to see you, Captain. Commander."
Savar gestured toward the adjoining space. "We've prepared a special meal in your honor."
"Delightful," Picard responded, though his voice carried a note of caution. "Tell me, why is the corridor so quiet? The last time I was here, it was bustling with activity."
Remmick's response came quickly, perhaps too quickly. "It usually is. Tonight's a quiet night."
"Yes, a quiet night," Savar echoed.
Aaron rubbed his hands together with apparent anticipation. "Let's have some Andonian tea to start. Then you can tell us about what's brought you here. Though we're glad you came. The Enterprise is very important to us."
Remmick excused himself with a brief nod. "Excuse me, gentlemen."
As the commander departed, Aaron turned his attention back to their guests. "What do you know of conspiracies, Captain?"
"Not nearly enough, I suppose."
"That's the charming thing about them, isn't it?" Aaron's smile took on an unsettling quality. "When a machination is real, no one knows about it. And when it's suspected, it's almost never real."
Savar nodded in agreement. "Except, of course, in paranoid delusions for those who believe."
Remmick returned as quickly as he had left. "Sorry to interrupt. Dinner is served."
Aaron clapped his hands together. "Wonderful."
As they filed into the banquet room, Picard's trained eye caught sight of something that made his blood run cold. Small tendrils protruded from the backs of the necks of Savar, Aaron, and Admiral Quinn; only Remmick appeared unaffected by whatever had taken hold of the others.
He shared a meaningful look with Tyson, who gave the slightest of nods in acknowledgment.
The dining room had been arranged with three curved tables, each with two chairs, forming a circle. A covered bowl sat in front of each place setting, the contents hidden beneath ornate silver domes.
"Please, sit down, Captain," Aaron said, his voice carrying an undertone of command. "We've been waiting. Go ahead and start, Captain. We don't stand on ceremony here."
Picard lifted the cover from his bowl and immediately recoiled. Live mealworms writhed within, squirming over each other in a disgusting mass.
"Oh, do eat up, Picard," Aaron continued, his smile never wavering. "Raise your hand if you want seconds."
Picard pushed back from the table and began backing toward the exit. "What race are you? Where are you from?"
"It's not important," Savar replied, his Vulcan composure unchanged despite the horrific circumstances. "Let us just say we've come a long way to join you. It's a perfect match. We're the brains, you're the brawn."
Aaron nodded enthusiastically. "Well said, brother. Picard controls the Enterprise, which means we will control the Enterprise."
Tyson stood slowly. "That's quite enough of that," he said. "You all certainly aren't the brains. You couldn't be any more transparent with that, 'what do you know of conspiracies, captain, line.' Please, if you were smart, you never would've allowed me here."
He gestured at the wall, and a portal opened. "Quick, Captain, escape through here."
Picard ran through the portal without hesitation, trusting his judgment. Tyson followed immediately behind him, with Quinn, Savar, Aaron, and Remmick all rushing through the portal in pursuit, not noticing that it snapped closed behind them.
They found themselves standing on a pristine beach, white sand stretching in both directions beneath a clear blue sky. The sound of waves lapping against the shore provided an incongruous backdrop to their confrontation.
Tyson stood waiting, relaxed despite the circumstances. "And now, you should probably give up," he said casually.
Quinn stepped forward. "We're superior. We make you stronger. You'll take one of us, just like all the others. Despite your unusual abilities, you're flesh and blood, so you can be a host."
Tyson's expression remained unchanged, almost bored. "First off, consent is key. Second, that's gonna be tough when you didn't bring one of your little illithid spawns with you."
Quinn's face contorted with rage at the dismissive tone. He charged forward. His fist swung toward Tyson's head with enough force to shatter bone.
The moment Quinn's attack reached its target, he simply vanished.
Tyson looked toward the remaining admirals with mock curiosity. "Next?" he asked cheekily, strolling toward Savar and Aaron with casual confidence. The Vulcan and human admirals launched themselves at him simultaneously. They too disappeared the instant their attacks would have connected.
Remmick stood alone on the beach, his eyes darting between Tyson and the spots where his companions had vanished.
Tyson raised an eyebrow, waiting with theatrical patience.
"I see your ploy," Remmick said carefully. "Attack and get teleported away. I'm no fool."
"They got Detainment. But they're Admirals," Tyson replied, his tone shifting from playful to cold. "With you, I don't need to be so nice."
The green blade of his Lightsaber hummed to life with its distinctive sound. A spinning slash severed Remmick's legs cleanly at the knees. The man collapsed to the sand, his scream of pain and shock echoing across the empty beach. Little blood soaked into the pristine white grains as he writhed, since the wounds had cauterized.
Still, the infected officer continued reaching for Tyson. The lightsaber hummed again as he slashed downward, severing both of Remmick's arms at the elbows, leaving the man helpless but still alive.
Tyson deactivated his weapon and opened another portal. Without ceremony, he grabbed Remmick by the collar and dragged him through. They emerged in the Medical Bay. Picard followed behind them, his face pale as he took in Remmick's mutilated form. "Is this really necessary?"
Before Tyson could answer, an alien worm burst from Remmick's chest with a wet, tearing sound. The creature was pale and segmented, roughly the size of a human thigh, with rows of tiny teeth visible along its length. It writhed frantically as Tyson tossed Remmick's body into one of the Medical Bay biobeds.
The parasite tried desperately to escape its crippled host as Vicky streamed off Picard in a cascade of silver nanobots, reforming her humanoid body beside the biobed. She began adjusting Remmick's treatment, medical scanners activating and emergency protocols engaging to stabilize what remained of the man's vital signs.
The alien parasite continued to thrash within the confines of the biobed's containment field, its movements becoming more frantic as it realized it was trapped. The bed worked to stem the bleeding and maintain Remmik's life functions while keeping the creature contained.
"Pretty necessary, I'd say," Tyson said, watching the parasite's futile struggles.
"Indeed," Picard agreed. He stared at the writhing alien creature, his earlier doubts evaporating as he witnessed firsthand the reality of the threat they faced. The very existence of the thing that had burst from Remmick's chest confirmed every suspicion about the conspiracy that had taken hold within Starfleet Command.
— Star Jumper —
Tyson sat at a bench overlooking Starfleet Command. He'd visited San Francisco in his original world and had thought it a lovely city with excellent public transportation. However, the homelessness problem had been depressing, and the weather was too cold for his taste. June in San Francisco had felt like March in New York, all fog and chill that cut through the warmest jacket he'd packed. This city still has that climate, an even better public transportation system, but no homelessness.
The irony wasn't lost on him. Here he was, appreciating being back on Earth, when technically this wasn't even his Earth. The thought should have been more unsettling than it was. But he sure wasn't going to trade this universe for his original one, not like it was an option.
His contemplation broke when footsteps approached. A man in civilian clothes settled onto the bench beside him without invitation. Average height, unremarkable features, the kind of face that disappears in a crowd. Tyson didn't turn to look.
"Commander Sloan," he said quietly.
"Commander Tyson. Enjoying the view?"
"It's been a while since I've been home. Just thinking about how much has changed in a few centuries. Though I imagine you didn't want to meet here for small talk."
"I wanted to discuss recent events at Starfleet Command. Specifically, your... intervention." Sloan shifted slightly, angling toward him. "Do you understand what you've done? The implications of what you discovered?"
Tyson finally turned to study the Section 31 operative. "I removed a threat to the Federation. Seems pretty straightforward."
"Straightforward," Sloan repeated the word like it tasted bitter. "You've just exposed one of the most significant infiltrations of Starfleet in its history. These parasites, we've noticed their footprint for months, trying to understand them, their capabilities, their goals. You've given us answers we desperately needed."
"And questions you didn't want answered," Tyson said. "How long have you known?"
Sloan was quiet for a moment, watching a transport shuttle arc across the sky. "We suspected something was wrong when Admiral Nogura started making... unusual decisions. Personnel transfers that didn't make sense, resource allocations that seemed random."
"So what's Section 31's interest in all this? Besides the obvious."
"The obvious being that hostile aliens nearly took control of Starfleet?" Sloan shook his head. "These parasites represent a threat unlike anything we've faced. The Klingons, the Romulans, we understand them. They have ships, territories, and political structures we can analyze, predict, and manipulate. But these creatures? They could be anywhere, anyone. They turn our own people against us."
"Could be," Tyson emphasized. "Past tense now. I captured the mother creature and removed it from this dimension."
"Did you?" Sloan's voice sharpened. "How can you be certain? What if there are others? What if this was just one colony, one infiltration attempt among many?"
The question hung between them. Tyson had wondered the same thing, but when the mother parasite was deposed and confined to his Mystical Menagerie within his Personal Reality, the smaller parasites within the officers on Earth had gone dormant.
Still, Sloan raised valid concerns.
"These parasites had access to classified information for months, possibly longer. Fleet movements, defensive positions, research projects, they could have transmitted anything to their homeworld… Assuming they have one. They came from somewhere. And now that you've eliminated their foothold here, what's to stop them from trying again? Next time, they might be more careful, more subtle. We need to ensure we have the tools necessary to detect future infiltrations before they reach critical mass. Would you prefer we wait until the next group of parasites takes control of the entire Admiralty?"
The man had a point.
Sloan continued, "Admiral Quinn was inclined to promote you to Captain, making you the fastest to rise to that position outside of a field promotion or a necessary temporary posting to maintain the chain of command."
The promotion would be welcome, but he sensed there was more to this conversation. "But?"
"But we had a deal."
"Yeah. I know. And I've been working on it. I needed to create a foundation for training Force-sensitives. Something repeatable so you didn't just get your half dozen officers, and that would be the end of it."
"And you've done that?"
"Yes, finished just before these shenanigans." Tyson gestured vaguely toward Starfleet Command. "There's a training facility set up in my Personal Reality. And I'm planning on bringing Ensign Ro in long-term."
The facility had been a massive undertaking. All possible thanks to Bob, Bastila, and the Reality Development Board.
"That's all good news. T'Pol being reinstated and Ensign Ro make two." Sloan paused, watching a group of cadets march across the courtyard below. "I have a candidate for your third."
"Oh?" Tyson wasn't entirely surprised. Section 31 wouldn't leave such selections entirely to chance or his personal preferences.
"Commander Remmick."
The name surprised him. He'd expected many possibilities, but Remmick hadn't been among them. The man who'd been so suspicious of Picard, so rigid in his adherence to protocol and procedure. The same officer whom the mother parasite had infected. Tyson hadn't been particularly friendly about it.
"Before he was infected," Sloan continued, "he had requested his next tour be on the Enterprise. Since you saved him, the man has spoken your praise. He shows excellent loyalty to the Federation, and a level of... flexibility that would make him an excellent addition to Section 31."
Remmick's investigation of Picard had been thorough, perhaps overly so, but it had been motivated by genuine concern for Starfleet's integrity. The man had been doing his job, even if his methods had been abrasive. And after the parasite incident, Remmick had indeed expressed gratitude for Tyson's intervention. More than gratitude, there had been a kind of respect there, an acknowledgment that Tyson had acted when others might have hesitated.
"The parasite incident changed him," Sloan added. "Being controlled, having his will subverted, it gave him a new perspective on threats to the Federation. He understands that sometimes conventional methods aren't sufficient. Sometimes you need people willing to operate outside normal parameters."
That made sense. Experiencing that level of violation, having your own body turned against everything you believed in, would leave marks. And now he'd seen firsthand how vulnerable they could be.
"You object?"
Tyson had to consider the question. Did he object? "Not really. I've no good reason to deny you. He's as good as any other officer. He was a bit pushy when he was on the Enterprise, but he had a job to do. I agree, he'd probably make a good addition to Section 31."
"I'll meet with him and have him transferred to the Enterprise under your direct command," Sloan said. He leaned back against the bench, his expression shifting to something that might have been approval. "I've looked over your report about the parasites in the Mirror Universe. I'm genuinely impressed. You managed to usurp not just control of the Enterprise, placing an agent as the third officer, but secured the Emperor position itself." He paused. "Or should I say Empress. Deanna Troi is an interesting choice."
"I have no desire to do it myself. She's native to that universe and can handle the politics of the position. I've made sure she's well guarded."
"By well guarded, you mean?"
"Personal guards and I'll be training her in the use of the Force soon, too. The Mirror Universe operates on different rules. Assassination attempts are practically a form of greeting. She needs to be able to survive long enough to consolidate power."
Sloan nodded thoughtfully. "And her loyalty to our interests?"
"Secured through mutual benefit. She gets to reshape an empire that was slowly eating itself alive through paranoia and brutality. We get a stable ally. She's not stupid and knows that cooperation serves her goals better than conflict."
"The reports mention she's already begun implementing some... reforms."
"Scheduled public executions have been eliminated, replaced with imprisonment. Revolutionary stuff for the Terran Empire." There was a hint of dry humor in Tyson's voice. "Baby steps toward something resembling civilization."
Sloan pulled out a small PADD and scrolled through the data. "What are the expansion plans?"
"In the works. The Terrans will begin reclaiming territory, aiming to reach Vulcan first. It'll be slow as we're hoping for a pseudo-diplomatic solution. We've begun campaigns trying to change the rhetoric from Terran Supremacy toward Terran leadership."
"Explain the distinction."
"Terran Supremacy was about superiority, the right to rule through might. It bred resentment and constant rebellion. Terran leadership focuses on competence, on earning the right to guide through demonstrated ability. The goal is to improve conditions for everyone under Imperial rule. Slavery has been outlawed, all vestiges should be cleared before we reach Vulcan, the public showing should improve our standing, and it aligns with the new rhetoric."
"And the other species are buying this?"
"Some are. The Vulcans, especially, are intrigued by the logical arguments. When you can demonstrate that cooperation produces better outcomes than subjugation, logical minds tend to listen. We plan to frame it as a partial return to the principles put forth by Emperor Spock." Tyson gestured toward the PADD in Sloan's hands. "The economic data should show the improvements. It's only been a week, but since Slavery has been abolished, productivity is up across the board."
"These numbers are impressive. Agricultural output has increased by forty percent."
"When you stop executing farmers for failing to meet impossible quotas and instead provide them with better tools, food, and health care. When you go from a coerced workforce to a voluntary one, productivity tends to improve."
"And military resistance?"
"Minimal so far. Most of the old guard who would have opposed the changes have been silenced by the recent victories and potential expansion." Tyson paused. "Troi's made it clear that while she prefers cooperation, she's perfectly capable of handling threats the old-fashioned way when necessary."
"The Vulcan situation specifically. How do you plan to approach that?"
"Carefully. There have been enslaved Vulcans in the empire for a long time. They're not going to trust any Terran proposal easily. We'll start with small gestures. Medical aid, educational resources. Building trust slowly. Plus, I have a few thousand freed Vulcan slaves in my Personal Reality that will vouch for me. I intend to return them home. It'll help spread my reputation through word-of-mouth and goodwill."
"And if they refuse?"
"Then we wait. Forcing them back into slavery puts the empire right back where it started, with constant rebellions and wasted resources. Better to take the long view."
"And other territories?"
"Andoria is showing interest in the new approach. The Tellarites are skeptical but willing to listen. The Klingons..." Tyson paused. "The Klingons are Klingons. They respect strength. We have a non-interference agreement with House Duras, and they're not causing trouble, which is about as good as we can hope for. If they make a play for the High Chancellor position, we'll assist them."
Sloan scrolled through more data on his PADD. "Resource allocation seems to be shifting significantly."
"To infrastructure development. For the first time in years, their territory is secure, building schools and hospitals generates more long-term loyalty than building more weapons. To expand sustainably, they need a stronger base."
"All of this looks good, thorough, well-planned. Your request for an industrial replicator has been approved. This operation now represents a significant investment of resources and political capital on Section 31's part. We need to ensure it succeeds."