Stardate: 41156.9
Earth Standard Date: February 27, 2364
Location: U.S.S Enterprise-D, Orbiting the Fourth Planet of the Deneb System.
The doors opened and they stepped out onto deck twelve. Tyson followed Deanna through the corridors until the gymnasium entrance appeared before them. As they entered, Tyson looked around in awe. The space was enormous, with various exercise areas visible on different tiers. While the gym wasn't far beyond what he had seen in his time, the fact that it was on a starship was incredible.
His eyes were drawn to the weightlifting zone, which resembled a gym from his time, with free weights, machines, and cardio equipment. Tyson was eager to get back into his normal fitness routine, but before he could head in that direction, a class in one of the martial arts areas caught his attention. About twenty people dressed in white uniforms were practicing some kind of martial art, moving in sync as they executed kicks, punches, and blocks. An instructor walked among them, barking commands that echoed through the gym. Tyson's eyes lingered on the martial arts class, watching as the students moved in unison through their regimented routines. Deanna noticed where his attention had gone and informed him, "The senior security staff lead classes every day. There are extra uniforms and a changing area if you'd like to join in."
Tyson's attention was drawn by the familiar sound of phasers firing coming from another section of the gym. Deanna, noticing his immediate reaction, put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Relax, Tyson," she said. "It's not a real weapons fight. It's just a game."
Tyson turned to her, eyebrows raised. "What kind of game?"
"Follow me," Deanna replied with a smile. "I'll show you."
She led him to a court, about the size of a racquetball court, enclosed by walls and with an upper-level viewing deck where others could look down on the action below. The walls and floor were covered in a black grid pattern that Tyson recognized from his metaknowledge as a holodeck.
Deanna explained, "This is a miniature holodeck, not as advanced as the complete ones found elsewhere on the ship. I'll take you to see the holodeck later on, but it's a room encased with projectors that uses forcefields and even parts of the replicator systems, to create realistic images that can be interacted with." She pointed down at the court. "This simple holodeck is used to play a game called Velocity. In the game, two players use phasers… energy weapons set on low power, to shoot a holographic disc. The goal is to make the disc hit your opponent."
Tyson watched as two crewmen stepped onto the court, each wearing athletic clothes; one in red, the other in blue. Each held a phaser in their hands. As Tyson observed, the disc appeared and shifted to blue. The man in blue fired, striking the holographic disc and sending it careening toward his opponent, its color shifting to red after being hit. The man in red shuffled to the side and fired, missing with his first shot, but tagging the disc with his second before it could strike him. Back and forth they went, volleying the disc and watching it shift colors as it flew toward its next target. The pace of the game was relentless, each player anticipating the other's next move, constantly shifting to avoid being tagged by the disc. The crowd on the viewing deck above cheered with enthusiasm, their voices echoing down to the focused players below.
Tyson scanned the rapt faces on the deck and noticed that despite the competitive nature of the game, there was a palpable sense of camaraderie and fun among the spectators. He even spotted some senior officers, including Worf, observing the match with amusement. The match wore on for several more minutes until finally, the red-clad player emerged victorious. The crowd erupted in applause as both competitors left the court, drenched in sweat but smiling.
Tyson turned to Deanna, who had watched the velocity match alongside him. Her dark eyes shone with enthusiasm. "That was incredible," he said. "It looked like a futuristic game of tennis."
"I'm pleased you enjoyed it," Deanna replied, her voice warm. "The crew finds velocity a wonderful way to stay fit and sharpen their phaser skills, all while having fun."
Tyson rubbed the back of his neck. "Think there's any chance I could try a game?"
"Of course." Deanna gestured toward a side passage. "Let's find you some proper clothes first."
She led him to a small changing room. Inside he found sets of plain, tight athletic pants and shirts in an array of sizes. Tyson hurriedly picked a set in his size and pulled them on. When he emerged, he found Deanna had changed as well. He found himself checking her out in the athletic wear but reminded himself that Deanna Troi was half-Betazoid, and an empath. She could sense emotions, so his attraction was surely no mystery to her. Though the counselor was undeniably attractive, with shapely curves that her form-fitting outfit did little to conceal, she likely dealt with such interest regularly. Ogling would only emphasize what she undoubtedly already sensed from him. Tyson glanced up, focusing his gaze on her face, taking note that she'd removed her tiara hairpiece, and her hair was tied up in a tight bun. And though she gave no outward sign of noticing his flustered state, there was no doubt his interest and embarrassment shone clearly to her Betazoid senses.
Clearing his throat, Tyson scrambled for a neutral topic of conversation. "I appreciate you taking the time to show me around," he began awkwardly.
Deanna's eyes glinted with subtle amusement, though her face remained professionally placid. "Of course," she replied. "I know this is all new to you. I'm happy to help you get acclimated."
Tyson nodded. Deanna's soothing presence soon put him at ease. She was simply too kind to hold his flustered reactions against him. "Shall we?" Deanna asked brightly, ignoring his momentary distraction. Tyson nodded and followed her toward the velocity courts, trying to keep his gaze safely above her shoulders.
Tyson followed Deanna into the smaller velocity court, empty save for the pair of phasers waiting just inside the entrance. As they stepped across the threshold, the holodeck worked its magic, their clothing shifting from their neutral hues; his to a deep blue, hers to a vivid red. "The rules are simple," Deanna explained, her voice warm and soothing. "When the disc illuminates your color, try to hit it. Aiming to angle the disc toward your opponent is ideal. The first to land a hit claims the round. Ten rounds win the game."
Her explanation complete, the disc materialized between them, hovering, pulsing Tyson's assigned blue. He took aim, steadied his phaser, and fired. The disc rocketed across the court, only to meet the deflection of Deanna's returning shot.
"Not bad," she said, a hint of a smile touching her lips. Tyson couldn't help but grin in return. He lined up his next shot, focused, and fired again.
Tyson and Deanna volleyed the glowing disc back and forth across the court as he learned the rhythm of the game. His Master with Your Hands perk made wielding the phaser come easily. In fact, he realized quickly that he had quite an aptitude for the sport. The more rapidly Tyson fired, the greater his accuracy became. He fell into a strategy of shooting nearly the instant Deanna did, not taking the time to aim but simply loosing bolts in the disc's general direction. Whether through some unconscious adjustment in his grip, manipulation of the probabilities involved in striking the target, or some other esoteric quality, the speed of his shots improved their precision. The reason behind it mattered little to Tyson. All he knew was that the faster he pulled the trigger, the more accurate his shots flew. Thanks to this discovery, he handily won round after round.
Deanna conceded with a sigh. "I guess you win."
A smattering of applause drifted down from the upper deck where a few crewmembers had gathered to observe the match. Tyson flashed them a grin, pleased by the recognition. As they neared the exit, one of the crewmen approached them. He was the player in red who had won the earlier match. "Not bad for a newbie," he drawled, looking Tyson up and down. "Want to go a round?"
Tyson glanced at Deanna, who gave a slight shrug to indicate she didn't mind waiting if he wanted to play again.
"Normally I wouldn't play with a newbie, but I'll make an exception for you," the man said, his smug face twisting into a grin. "Don't worry, I'll go easy."
"Thanks," Tyson said with a hint of sarcasm. "I appreciate that." Tyson turned and walked back toward the court. The man in red grinned at him, clearly confident in his victory. Tyson took a defensive stance, bracing himself for a hard-fought match.
Instead, the man in red's play was deliberately sloppy. He fired slowly and directly at Tyson, ensuring Tyson could easily deflect the shots. "Looks like I spoke too soon," the man said after Tyson scored the first pair of points. "Who knew you'd be a half-decent player? Not bad at all." Sensing he was being patronized, Tyson maintained a straight face as he continued swatting away the man's slow, predictable shots. With each return, he fired the disc back faster and faster, forcing the man to abandon his act. The man's smugness was replaced by a determined scowl as his eyes narrowed in confusion. "You know, you're okay. Let's see if you can keep up."
Suddenly, there was a noticeable change in his demeanor. He straightened his stance, trained his focus on the disc, and fired a quick shot. In an instant, Tyson responded, and the man unleashed more shots in rapid succession, the disc coming at Tyson with astonishing speed. The crowd on the upper platform broke into applause, admiring the sudden display of skill.
Tyson opted to pick up the pace in return. He unleashed a flurry of bolts, sending the disc flying back immediately each time his opponent struck it. Step by step, Tyson pushed him back toward the wall, his phaser continuously spitting out shots.
Tensions permeated the gymnasium air as the crowd collectively held their breath, enthralled by the intensifying exchange of phaser fire between the two competitors. The man in red's face contorted into a mask of fierce determination while Tyson's focus narrowed to an almost predatory intensity. Lost in the rhythm of the game, Tyson felt unstoppable, as if in a trance. He was far more engrossed in this absurd futuristic version of paddle ball than he could have ever imagined.
Having steadily given ground to Tyson's unrelenting assault, the man in red stepped back from the court's center, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. A healthy sheen of sweat now covered his skin and his eyes burned with a mixture of exhaustion and something resembling grudging respect. "Not bad," the man conceded, extending his hand to Tyson. "I've...I've never even seen any of the top velocity players fire shots so rapidly. You've got a gift."
Tyson, sweating profusely himself, shook the proffered hand. "Thanks," was all he could think to say. Despite the man's valiant efforts, Tyson had won the match decisively, 10-3. He smiled as Deanna made her way down from the upper deck to greet him at the arena door. Her face was lit with a wide smile as she exclaimed, "You were amazing! I couldn't believe how quickly you learned the game."
Tyson shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I guess I just...found my zone."
Deanna's eyes twinkled with amusement. "I think you may be a natural at velocity, and with a phaser."
"Maybe," was all Tyson said in response, though inwardly he swelled with pride at her praise. It had been a hard-fought match, but he had emerged victorious through utilizing his new Perks. The man in red had pressed him, yet Tyson had realized the best way to leverage his skills, leading to his win. Basking in Deanna's admiration, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy his victory. For now, he simply savored the thrill of success.
Tyson had been so focused on Deanna that he failed to notice the figure approaching them. The man was well over six feet tall with wide shoulders and thick arms. The Klingon's features were heavy and his forehead ridged, with dark eyes that peered, nearly eye to eye with Tyson. He had moved with a surprising fluidity for someone so large. Tyson tensed but the man simply inclined his head in greeting.
"For someone who's never held a phaser before, that was an excellent showing," Worf's voice was a deep baritone.
Tyson blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the unexpected praise. He glanced at Deanna, who gave him an encouraging smile. Clearing his throat, Tyson met the man's gaze. "Thank you," he replied, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. Then Tyson blinked in surprise, remembering how the Klingon, Worf, had spoke to him the day prior. Tyson stepped back and pointed an accusatory finger, and exclaimed, "I knew you spoke English!" Then realizing his posture he relaxed, not wanting to seem confrontational.
Worf let out a rumbling chuckle. "Of course. Did you think I only spoke Klingon?"
Tyson scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "No... I just didn't think the big alien would be trolling me."
Worf threw his head back and barked out laughter. "I was raised by human parents." He held out his hand and introduced himself, "I am Worf, son of Mogh."
Tyson grasped his hand, feeling the man's strong grip. "So, Worf, besides messing with the new guy," Tyson began, "What exactly are your duties on the Enterprise?"
Worf answered, "I am the Chief of Security and also sometimes serve as a Tactical Officer."
Tyson listened with rapt attention as Worf described security protocols, and various levels of alert status, from the cautious readiness of yellow alert to the hair-trigger preparations of red alert, each escalating the ship's readiness for potential conflict. He learned that internal security was just as vital as preparing for external threats. "I also oversee all boarding protocols. Ensuring our interactions are secure when we encounter other vessels or stations." Worf explained in his gravelly tone, "When there are missions off the ship, away team members are carefully selected based on the skills needed to accomplish the mission. As standard procedure, each team usually consists of a member from each Starfleet division, including at least a security, engineering, and command officer, with additional specializations depending on the nature of the mission."
Tyson, eager to hear more asked, "And what happens if there's an intruder aboard?" he asked.
"We have several layers of security measures in place," Worf replied, "Firstly, our internal sensors can detect any unauthorized presence." He went on to explain how force fields could isolate intruders, and how security teams trained in various forms of combat, both armed and hand-to-hand, stood ready to respond at a moment's notice. "Our phasers have multiple settings. They're far stronger than the ones used in velocity. They can be adjusted from stun to kill, though we aim to incapacitate when possible."
The big Klingon gave Tyson a friendly clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked the human off his feet before excusing himself from the gymnasium to return to his duties.
Deanna turned to Tyson, her dark eyes thoughtful. "I'd like to show you sickbay again," she said. "I know you've already seen it, but yesterday must have been so overwhelming. I thought it might help to see it again with fresh eyes."
Tyson nodded. "Lead the way."
Deanna guided him back to the changing rooms so they could change out of their velocity outfits. As they walked the corridors of the Enterprise, Tyson took in the starship; crew members of various species hurried past on their tasks, the soft chimes of opening doors underscoring the ever-present thrum of the engines. It was a sound Tyson was still growing accustomed to but found oddly comforting. After a short trip, Deanna and Tyson arrived at the sickbay entrance. The doors slid open with a swoosh, revealing the state-of-the-art medical facility beyond. Biobeds lined the perimeter, and sophisticated diagnostic devices were arranged around each one. At the far end of the room, Dr. Beverly Crusher looked up from a display panel she had been studying.
"Back so soon, Tyson?" she inquired, a hint of amusement in her voice. It had been less than a day since the young man first arrived on the Enterprise, yet this was already his second visit to the ship's medical facility.
Tyson glanced around the room, taking in the rows of biobeds along the perimeter, the sophisticated diagnostic devices hovering above each one. A flicker of curiosity lit up his eyes as he asked, "Doctor Crusher. It's good to see you again. If it's not too much trouble, I'm curious about how medical technology has advanced since my time."
The doctor moved with easy confidence, her red hair swaying as she gestured towards the equipment lining the walls. Her voice was warm as she began an impromptu tour. "This," she said, holding up a sleek, metallic device, "is a medical tricorder." With a flick of her wrist, the compact tricorder unfolded, revealing an intricate display panel glowing with lights and figures. "It's one of our most essential tools. With this, I can scan a patient and get detailed data on everything from vitals to cell structure."
She demonstrated by scanning her own hand. The tricorder beeped and a cascade of information flooded the screen. Displaying bone density, oxygen saturation, blood pressure, and a myriad of other information. "A century ago you'd have needed whole teams of specialists to get what this hand-held device provides instantly."
Dr. Crusher led the way to an empty biobed. Its surface gleamed, equipped with sensors and emitters. "Our biobeds continuously monitor patients and can even administer targeted treatments." She traced a finger along the bed's edge. "They employ various energies to stimulate cellular regeneration and accelerate healing." With a tap, several small lights flickered on along the biobed's sides. "Those emitters use specialized wavelengths to mend tissue and knit bone." The doctor gave Tyson a wry smile. "No more stitches or plaster casts for us." She scooped up a slender, pen-shaped instrument. It emitted a soft blue glow as she activated it. "This osteogenic stimulator can fuse fractures in a fraction of the time it took in your day."
Tyson followed Dr. Crusher through sickbay, his eyes wide with wonder at the advanced medical technology surrounding him. They paused at a station where the doctor showcased hyposprays, needleless injection devices that could administer medication through the skin without pain. Tyson listened intently, as Dr. Crusher spoke passionately about her field. "There isn't enough time to cover all the changes," she said after a while, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. "But suffice it to say that nearly every aspect of medicine has advanced leaps and bounds since your time." She paused for a moment, her expression turning thoughtful, "But with all our advancements," she continued, "we still encounter new challenges." Dr. Crusher walked over to a display showing microscopic images of various pathogens. "Space is vast, and with every new planet we explore or species we encounter, there's potential for new diseases and maladies that we've never seen before."
Her slender fingers danced across the panel as she pulled up examples of recent discoveries; strange viruses and unknown cellular anomalies that stumped even the most experienced medical minds aboard the Enterprise and throughout the Federation. "It's an ongoing battle," Dr. Crusher admitted, a hint of weary determination in her voice. "One that requires constant research and development of new treatments to combat these threats."
Tyson nodded slowly in understanding, his respect and admiration for Dr. Crusher growing with each new revelation about the complexities of space-age medicine. "And despite all our technology," she concluded, turning back toward him with an earnest look in her bright blue eyes, "one of the most important elements is still care, the doctor-patient relationship."
The tour ended leaving Tyson feeling simultaneously awed by how far humanity had advanced medically, and yet humbled by how much remained unknown even in this futuristic era. The doors to the sickbay hissed open, drawing the attention of Tyson, Dr. Crusher, and Counselor Troi. A crewman staggered in, clad in pads and a uniform that hinted at some unfamiliar sport. The pads were scuffed with the marks of hard use, and his right arm was cradled by his left, pulled close to his abdomen.
Dr. Crusher's professional focus sharpened as she briskly crossed the bay toward the injured man. Though technically just an observer, Tyson found himself driven to help. He snatched up a medical tricorder and aimed it at the crewman. The device whirred softly as it scanned the injury.
"Fractured clavicle," Tyson announced after studying the tricorder's display.
Dr. Crusher glanced up from her physical examination and nodded once. "I concur. Fractured clavicle it is."
Tyson felt a hint of accomplishment at having his assessment validated. Dr. Crusher turned her attention back to the crewman, her hands moving with practiced confidence as she began treatment. Tyson assisted by bracing the man's arm so the bone would be set properly as Dr. Crusher used the osteogenic stimulator to accelerate the bone's natural healing process. Within minutes, under the doctor's expert care, the crewman was able to move his arm freely again.
Dr. Crusher gave the man a few final instructions, "Avoid any strenuous overhead activity for the next few days," Dr. Crusher instructed briskly. "The fracture is mended but will remain tender and vulnerable until it fully stabilizes."
Then she sent him on his way with an encouraging pat on the shoulder. As the doors whispered at the crewman's exit, Dr. Crusher regarded Tyson appraisingly, "Thank you, Tyson," she said. "You were quick to assist with the crewman's injury. That kind of readiness to help is an admirable quality." Tyson felt an odd flush of pride at the doctor's words. Troi gave him an approving nod. "You have a natural aptitude for this work," Dr. Crusher continued thoughtfully. "It takes more than just technical skill to respond well in difficult situations. A level head and a willingness to take action are essential."
Tyson shrugged. "Just trying to help where I can," he murmured. Tyson sat on the biobed, it was a thoughtless move that he believed to be innocuous, but the bed beeped as he made contact with it. The beeping drew Dr. Crusher's attention. She grabbed the medical tricorder and scanned Tyson. "That's odd. Very unusual," she said. Crusher handed the tricorder over to Tyson, asking, "Since you seem adept with a tricorder, what do you make of these readings?"
Tyson looked at the handheld device, but it didn't display the readings of his body.
[+50 CP] Hybrid (Drawback)
Your base race has been hybridized with another (Betazoid). In addition to having a hybridized appearance, you will also gain all the negative traits of your second species. Betazoids are a peaceful species with human-like features and powerful telepathic abilities. Betazoids are physically indistinguishable from humans in every aspect except for their solid black irises. They possess natural telepathy and can easily sense the thoughts and emotions of any living thing. Betazoids are members of the Federation and commonly serve as either counselors or negotiators. Betazoid hybrids' weaknesses are they have weaker telepathic powers compared to full Betazoids.
The display continued scrolling with a personalized message from Q.
"Well, well, well. You rolled quite the drawback. Those are meant to hinder you, not benefit you. Betazoid hybrids don't have any downsides. You didn't think I'd let you off that easily, did you? We can't have that now, can we? "
[+200 CP] Amok Time (Drawback)
As a result of your racial hybridization, you now suffer from a chemical imbalance in the brain. Every seven years, this imbalance starts to get out of whack. If you don't have the mental discipline, you will die within a week of this period beginning. The only thing that will stop this is a ritual to sate your primal urges. In this case, you'll either need to mate or kill. And no cheating! Using a holodeck won't fix the chemical imbalance.
Tyson had never experienced anything like the subtle shift in his senses that began. It started as a whisper, a vibration at the edge of his consciousness that steadily grew louder and more insistent. Sitting next to Deanna, Tyson became sharply aware of a gentle warmth emanating from her, a deep serenity and compassion that spoke of great emotional strength. It was as if he could sense the undercurrents of her thoughts. This newfound sensitivity startled Tyson, yet it carried with it a surprising feeling of connection that he found oddly comforting. The sensation expanded outwards like ripples in a pond, allowing Tyson to sense the very mood of the ship itself. Beyond the walls of sickbay, he could feel the collective hum of focus and duty, the quiet camaraderie that bound the crew together.
With this expansion of his senses, Tyson realized this new skill granted him profound insight into the emotional states of those around him, but at the cost of him having to experience… the Pon Farr?
That wasn't much of a punishment in Tyson's mind, and the CP bonus was well worth it. But then the message on the tricorder continued scrolling.
"You're right. I've been too soft on you… There, that's better. A little...handicap to keep things interesting for you. And no, before you ask, this drawback is not related to those tidbits of information I gave you. That little treat is still coming your way. I do so love shaking things up and seeing how you primates adapt. This should prove utterly fascinating."
[+300 CP] Amok Time (Drawback)
As a result of your racial hybridization, you now suffer from a chemical imbalance in the brain. Every seven years months, this imbalance starts to get out of whack. If you don't have the mental discipline, you will die within a week of this period beginning. The only thing that will stop this is a ritual to sate your primal urges. In this case, you'll either need to mate or kill. And no cheating! Using a holodeck won't fix the chemical imbalance. (Oh and did I mention, Amok Time has started… now)
Tyson took in a sharp breath, partly from realizing he was starting the Ponn Farr, now, and also because his new empathic senses intertwined with Troi's. "I'm not just human," the words slipped from him in a hushed tone.
Crusher was present but unaware of the depth of their exchange. She expressed her confusion plainly, "I'm not sure how this happened. Your scans marked you clearly as human yesterday."
Her words floated on the periphery of Tyson's heightened awareness, secondary to the profound interaction unfolding between him and Troi. Tyson could sense Troi's empathic tendrils delicately exploring his psyche, a feeling that was neither invasive nor unwelcome. It was a gentle mental touch, a cautious probing of the depths of his being. He perceived Troi's voice, as clear and resonant within his mind, bypassing the need for spoken words.
Tyson, can you hear me?
With a simple nod, Tyson confirmed. Troi's reaction was immediate, her eyes widening as the reality of their shared experience sank in. "It's true," she breathed out.
Tyson kept his eyes fixed on Troi as Crusher continued thinking aloud, oblivious to the wordless conversation unfolding between counselor and her patient. The doctor's musings were a tangle of professional curiosity and bafflement. "I couldn't have overlooked this... But it doesn't make any sense." Her voice betrayed the turmoil churning within. "Betazoids had no contact with Earth during Tyson's time." She paused, rifling through centuries of historical trivia in her mind before adding, "If I remember correctly, Betazed didn't achieve warp capability until the early twenty-third century. Isn't that right, Deanna?"
The question temporarily drew Troi's attention away from the empathic link she now shared with Tyson. "That's correct, Doctor," Troi confirmed, her words deepening the mystery surrounding Tyson's sudden telepathic talent.
Crusher concluded, "We'll need to inform the captain about this."
The discovery of Tyson's sudden empathic talent was perplexing, but the man himself seemed unaffected. Tyson was her guest after all, and she had planned to show him more of the Enterprise before their tour concluded. "If it isn't urgent and Tyson isn't in danger, Could we delay bringing this up with the captain? Perhaps it could wait until the senior staff meeting, later," she replied finally. "There are other areas of the ship I was hoping to show him first."
Troi glanced at Tyson questioningly. He nodded, curiosity glinting in his eyes at the prospect of seeing more of the starship.
"Very well," said Dr. Crusher after a moment, though her tone still held a note of concern. "I'll inform the captain during the meeting."
Troi gave her a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Doctor. We'll see you at the senior staff meeting, after the tour."
With the matter settled for the moment, Troi led them from sickbay, ready to continue Tyson's orientation to the Enterprise. Though the mystery of his new abilities lingered at the back of her mind, she pushed the questions aside, focusing instead on her role as welcoming host.
— Star Jumper —
Counselor Troi had several hours before the senior staff meeting. As they walked, Troi sensed the elation and excitement rolling off of Tyson in waves. She could practically taste the intensity of his emotions through her Betazoid empathic senses. His eagerness to experience something new from this era dwarfed any other feelings she had sensed from him since his arrival.
They arrived at the holodeck. Troi explained, "This is a holodeck. The computer uses a combination of forcefields, replicators, and other technologies to create a fully immersive virtual environment. I think you'll find it an extraordinary experience, far beyond anything from your time."
Troi stepped to the holodeck control panel, "Was there a particular place you wanted to visit?" she asked, her voice smooth and professional, with just a hint of real interest underneath. "Maybe something from Earth in your time period? Or even earlier, before your lifetime. Any setting from a book, or old media that we can check to see if it survived to the present? If it's in the records we can visit."
Tyson paused, thoughts turning behind his eyes. With the whole of history and fiction to pick from, the sheer number of choices was staggering. After a long moment, he responded, curiosity warming his words. "Can you show me what other people have been visiting recently?"
Troi's slim fingers danced across the console, long practice evident in their sure movements. She leaned in, scrutinizing the display. "Several programs were run anonymously, or had their details hidden from the public logs..." she murmured, scrolling down the list. "But there are a few here we can see."
She stopped as the screen populated with a list of recent simulations. "Lieutenant LaForge has an advanced warp engine design program ongoing," she read aloud. "Lieutenant Worf recently ran one of his Klingon battle simulations. And Commander Riker has been replaying missions from the original NX-01 Enterprise."
Troi glanced up at Tyson after each one, gauging his reaction. He seemed to consider each option but remained noncommittal.
Troi laughed softly, meeting Tyson's eyes with a gentle tilt of her head. "Most of these seem a little dull. Are you sure you wouldn't rather try something more imaginative? The holodeck can recreate almost anything you can think of."
Her words were an invitation to adventure, a chance for Tyson to not just observe history, but live it.
Tyson asked curiously, "Can you check what mission Commander Riker was replaying of the original Enterprise? I'm curious about what that might have been like. I imagine it was closer to my time, fantastical, but not so removed as we are now."
Counselor Deanna Troi examined the log on the holodeck control panel and explained, "It was a mission where they uncovered a derelict Vulcan ship. You haven't met any Vulcans yet, but they're one of the founding Federation members known for their dedication to logic and emotional control." She scrolled further down the text on the screen. "In this particular mission, the Vulcans were stricken by an illness caused by an element found in the area of space the Enterprise was traveling through." Troi frowned, her dark eyes troubled. "This simulation is quite gruesome with detailed accounts of the Vulcans' becoming aggressive. But if you're into horror or action, it might be something worth trying."
Tyson nodded thoughtfully. Despite Troi's warning about the nature of the simulation, Tyson believed he remembered that episode of Enterprise. "Could we visit that simulation?" he asked, unable to keep an eager note from his voice. "I think it would be fascinating to see how things were handled in those times."
Troi hesitated as she weighed the potential impact of such a vivid and potentially disturbing experience on Tyson's psyche. She recognized the earnestness and genuine interest shining in his eyes. "I suppose we could," she conceded after a thoughtful moment, brushing back a lock of her dark hair. "Just remember, it might be quite intense and graphic. Are you certain you want to proceed?"
Tyson's eyes sparkled with excitement as he affirmed his decision. "Absolutely. I want to see it for myself." His enthusiasm was palpable.
Troi nodded slowly, a flicker of concern in her eyes even as she acknowledged his choice. She turned and selected the simulation.
— Star Jumper —
Tyson
Origins: Human, Humanoid, Drop-In, Space Pirate
Race: Human-Betazoid (Hybrid)
Character Points: 1650
Reality Points: 500
Credits: 0
Status Effects: (none)
Drawbacks:
Gauntlet (Locked)
Ensign Marty Stu
A Simple Re'Q'uest
Hybrid (Betazoid)
Amok Time
Perks:
Cosmic Awareness
Out of Nowhere
Going Native
Live and Let Live
This is (Not?) Rocket Science
Kinda Bland
Determinator
Painted On
Snakeskin
Adaptable
Duelist
Master with your Hands
Best of the Best
Items:
Laser Blade
Spacesuit
Personal Reality:
Access Key
Security System
Spaceships:
Tramp Freighter