Chapter 37 - Season 2: Episode 20 - Haven

Episode 20 - Haven

Stardate: 41294

Earth Standard Date: April 17, 2364.

Location: USS Enterprise-D, Beta Cassius System.

Tyson stepped into the Deck One observation lounge, where Captain Picard was waiting at the head of the table. Two unfamiliar men sat afront the expansive view of stars. They wore matching outfits, but it wasn't a standard Starfleet uniform.

Picard cleared his throat. "Ensign Tyson, allow me to introduce Agents Dulmur and Lucsly from the Department of Temporal Investigations." The two men nodded curtly, their eyes fixed on Tyson with an intensity that made him feel like a specimen under a microscope. "Please have a seat," Picard said, gesturing to the conference table. As he settled into his chair, Picard continued, "Ensign, due to the events you described to me during the Kosinski incident, I was required to inform Starfleet of possible changes to the timeline. These gentlemen are here to investigate the matter further."

Agent Dulmur, the older of the two, leaned forward, his fingers steepled on the table. "Ensign, we'd like you to tell us your story. From the beginning, if you please. And don't leave out any details, no matter how insignificant they seem."

Tyson nodded, though he intended no such thing. He glanced at Picard, who inclined his head encouragingly. "Well, it all started when I was in Main Engineering. Mr. Kosinski arrived..." As Tyson recounted the events, he watched the investigators' reactions carefully. Lucsly's eyebrows furrowed deeper with each passing moment, while Dulmur's face remained impassive, save for the occasional twitch of his lip. "...and then Q appeared," Tyson continued, "He said that I was being boring, and suddenly, I found myself on Delta Vega."

"Delta Vega?" Lucsly interrupted. "The ice planet in the Vulcan system?"

"Yes, but it wasn't our Delta Vega. It was different, in the past."

Dulmur and Lucsly exchanged a loaded glance. "Continue," Dulmur said, his voice carefully neutral.

Tyson described his encounters on Delta Vega. He spoke of the Hengrauggi, meeting Ambassador Spock from their future, and their journey to the Starfleet outpost. When he mentioned using portals to capture the creatures, Lucsly's pen paused mid-scribble.

"Portals?" he asked skeptically. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"It's an ability I have. I can create portals to transport objects or beings from one place to another."

The investigators' expressions darkened. "And where, exactly, did you acquire this ability?"

"It's connected to my encounters with Q..."

Lucsly's pen scratched furiously across his notepad. "Please continue, Ensign."

As Tyson delved deeper into his story, describing his journey to the Enterprise and his role in disabling the Narada's drill, he could feel the tension rising in the room. The investigators' questions became more pointed and accusatory.

"So, let me get this straight. You not only interfered with the ongoing events in that past timeline but played a massive role in their outcome?" Lucsly interjected, "Your actions could have catastrophic consequences for the timeline."

Tyson held up his finger. "Let me explain and provide some further context." He looked at Captain Picard and said, "Please note that I have omitted the details regarding the events that led to Ambassador Spock's temporal displacement because they involved Captain Picard." He let that sink in for a beat, then continued, "The Romulan vessel, when it arrived in the past, attacked and destroyed the USS Kelvin. Captain Kirk's father took command of the ship beforehand and went down with it."

Dulmur leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "So you're trying to make the case the timeline was already compromised before your intervention?"

"Significantly so," Tyson confirmed. "The presence of the Romulan ship was a destabilizing factor, and Ambassador Spock was... a temporal contaminant." He winced slightly. "Excuse the term. I don't know how you refer to things that don't belong."

Lucsly's pen paused mid-scribble. "We typically use the term 'temporal anomaly' or 'chronal displacement,' but please continue."

"I did my best to restore the timeline to where it should have been. Montgomery Scott was not aboard the Enterprise, so I subtly pointed them in his direction."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly did you accomplish this, Ensign?"

"I encountered Mr. Scott within the outpost on Delta Vega. It was quite the coincidence," Tyson explained. "When I arrived on the Enterprise, I mentioned that he provided the transwarp beaming equation, which allowed me to teleport onto the vessel while it was at warp. The senior officers immediately recognized the impossibility of such a feat but had no other explanation for my arrival. I'm sure they'll investigate it."

Picard asked, "Mr. Tyson, are you aware that Transwarp Beaming, as you've described, is beyond our current technology?"

"Yes, Captain. I understand that it's not something we currently possess. However, the technology on display surpassed what we have here somehow. The Enterprise there was capable of transwarp. I believe that the Romulan presence in the past caused the available technology to advance more rapidly than it did here."

Picard held up a hand. "Let's stay focused on the facts. Mr. Tyson, please continue with your account."

"After disabling the drill, I used my abilities to infiltrate the Narada. I confronted the Romulan captain and his crew. They had a substance that they intended to use to create a singularity at the center of Vulcan. It explained why they were drilling into the planet."

The room fell silent. Even Picard seemed taken aback by this revelation.

"You confronted the captain and his crew? Alone?" Dulmur asked, disbelieving.

"Yes. I knew the threat he posed, not just to Vulcan but to the entire Federation. Vulcan was his first target, but he would've attacked Earth next. I couldn't stand by and let him destroy the entire planet."

Lucsly's pen scratched furiously across his notepad. "And what exactly did you do during this confrontation?"

Tyson hesitated, glancing at Picard. The captain's face remained impassive, but there was a glimmer of concern.

"I neutralized him and his crew," Tyson said carefully. "I then freed Captain Pike, who had been taken hostage."

"Neutralized?" Dulmer asked, "Could you be more specific, Ensign?"

"I used lethal force on the captain. A phaser set to kill. The rest of the crew refused to surrender, and after taking control of the ship, I reduced life support functions. All Romulans died."

The room fell silent once more. Picard's expression darkened while the temporal agents exchanged worried glances.

"Mr. Tyson," Picard said, "you do realize the gravity of what you're telling us? You've admitted to not only interfering with events but also to taking many lives."

Tyson nodded solemnly. "I do, Captain. I understand the weight of my actions. But I also knew the consequences if I did nothing. Billions of lives were at stake on Vulcan, and the effects of the Romulan's presence on that timeline was immeasurable."

Lucsly shook his head. "That's not how this works, Ensign. We don't get to play judge, jury, and executioner across timelines. The potential ripple effects of your actions are incalculable."

"I agree," Dulmur added. "What you've done goes far beyond simple temporal interference."

Tyson's eyes moved from Picard to the agents. "I understand your concerns. But what was the alternative? Allowing them to destroy Vulcan?" Tyson looked at Picard and asked directly, "If you and the Enterprise had been in my position, knowing what they'd done mettling with the timeline, would you not have done everything possible to destroy the Romulan vessel and retrieve Ambassador Spock?"

Picard's expression remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of understanding. He responded, "Yes, we would have engaged the Romulans and attempted to retrieve the Ambassador."

Tyson held his hand up, gesturing at Picard and pressed on, turning back to the agents. "My actions, while cold, had the same outcome. I did what I could to stabilize the timeline and remove their presence. Their ship is gone, their crew is gone, everyone not from that timeline has been removed from that reality, myself included, and I can no longer access it. Spock, Kirk, Scott, the rest of the Enterprise senior staff, and the ship survived."

Dulmur's brow furrowed deeply. "That's not the point, Ensign. The issue here is the unauthorized and unilateral action you took. You made decisions that could have far-reaching consequences without any oversight or approval."

Lucsly nodded in agreement. "Temporal Prime Directive exists for a reason. We can't just alter timelines, even with the best intentions."

Tyson's jaw tightened. "Who should I have sought for oversight? I couldn't contact this Federation to help because Q cut me off. All I had was my abilities. I did my best to clean up a mess I didn't cause."

"While I understand your intentions were good, you must realize the gravity of your actions. You've admitted to taking lives and altering events in a timeline, not our own. That's not a decision any one person should make alone."

"At that moment, faced with the imminent destruction of an entire planet and the potential destabilization of the entire quadrant, I had to act. I couldn't stand by and watch billions die. I didn't have a flagship or Starfleet's best crew at my command like you would have. I know you don't approve of my methods, but I tried diplomacy, and when that failed, I tried coercion. The Romulans left me with few options."

Dulmur sighed heavily. "Your heart may have been in the right place, Ensign, but that doesn't excuse the violation of temporal protocols. We have these rules in place to prevent this kind of situation."

"First off, as you said, I'm only an Ensign. No one explained the temporal protocols to me. How can I follow the rules of the game if I wasn't told what they are." Tyson straightened in his chair. "And with all due respect, agents, the timeline was altered by the Romulans' presence, not mine. Their ship, technology, and very existence in that timeline was a massive temporal contamination. I removed that contamination."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "And you're certain you've removed all traces of the Romulans?"

Tyson hesitated for a moment in thought. "As certain as I can be, sir. I ensured that all technology and individuals from the future were removed. One event I may have changed was Captain Pike. Historical records reveal he was confined to an assistive locomotion device. When I saved him, the Romulans had him strapped down, but I interrupted whatever procedure they had planned. He was healthy last I saw. The only other remnants left behind are the memories of those who encountered us and the subtle nudge towards Mr. Scott's discovery of transwarp beaming."

Dulmur and Lucsly exchanged glances. Lucsly spoke, frustrated, "That 'subtle nudge' could have massive implications. You've potentially accelerated their technological development by decades."

"They were already ahead of us in many aspects. But, technically, I didn't," Tyson countered, "Ambassador Spock was the one that gave Mr. Scott what he needed to complete the transwarp beaming equation. You can take it up with him in about… 23 years."

"You said you removed the chronally displaced vessel and Ambassador. That still doesn't explain what happened to the Romulan vessel and this... future Ambassador Spock. Where are they now?"

"They're both within a pocket reality that I can access with my portals. Ambassador Spock is in a form of cryogenic stasis."

The room fell silent for a moment as the investigators processed this information. Lucsly was the first to speak. "A pocket reality? Are you saying you have access to an entirely separate dimension?"

"Yes," Tyson clarified. "It's not accessible to anyone else, and it doesn't interact or intersect with our reality in any way besides my ability to access it."

"What exactly do you intend to do with Ambassador Spock and this Romulan vessel?" Dulmer asked.

"The plan we discussed was to wake Ambassador Spock in the year when he was temporally displaced," Tyson explained. "That way, he might resume his place in time from after the point when he left, completing the time loop in 2387."

Lucsly's pen scratched furiously across his notepad. "And the Romulan vessel?"

Tyson hesitated for a moment. "The Romulan vessel remains safely contained within the pocket reality."

Picard leaned forward, his expression grave. "You've essentially taken it upon yourself to safeguard future technology and individuals. Are you aware noone has even seen a Romulan in over 50 years?"

"Yes sir, and I do understand," Tyson replied, "I assure you, my intentions have only been to prevent further damage."

The agents exchanged a long, meaningful look, their expressions a mix of concern and grudging acceptance. Finally, Dulmur cleared his throat and turned to face Tyson.

"Ensign Tyson," he began, "while your actions constitute a significant temporal interference, we must acknowledge the unique circumstances you found yourself in."

Lucsly nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Given the situation you described, with no access to Starfleet resources or guidance, your response seems... appropriate, if unorthodox."

Tyson blinked, surprised by this turn in the conversation. He glanced at Captain Picard, whose expression remained neutral, but there was a hint of relief in his eyes.

Dulmur continued, "We've dealt with numerous temporal incursions over the years, Ensign. Many were caused by well-meaning individuals who lacked the proper training or understanding of temporal mechanics. Your case, however, is unique."

"You are from an alternate timeline yourself and were thrust into yet another alternate timeline without warning," Lucsly added, "and faced with a threat of planetary destruction. Your actions, while extreme, were aimed at preserving life and restoring temporal balance."

Picard leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "Are you saying, gentlemen, that you find no fault in Ensign Tyson's actions?"

Dulmur held up a hand. "Not exactly, Captain. We still have concerns about the potential long-term effects of his interference. However, given the circumstances and the care he took to minimize his impact, we don't believe punitive action is warranted in this case. Best we can determine, the timeline Ensign Tyson described was not a past version of our own, but the Romulan's intervention caused it to split off entirely. Any actions and events that occurred did not affect 'us'. Since the events that caused its split happened prior to his arrival, he is not at fault. We are particularly worried about this pocket reality he has access to. However, the issue of the pocket reality is not within the purview of our department."

Lucsly closed his notepad with a snap. "Therefore, Ensign Tyson, we've decided that no formal punishment will be levied against you for these actions. However," he added, his tone growing stern, "we must emphasize the importance of avoiding further temporal entanglements whenever possible."

"Absolutely," Tyson nodded. "I have no desire to meddle with time more than necessary."

"This brings us to another matter of concern, Ensign. We've received information that you can bring people from other timelines into our own. Particularly, there's been a request regarding T'Pol, a figure from early Starfleet who was important in the founding of the Federation."

Lucsly nodded, adding, "Knowing what you do now about our policies, what justification do you have for wanting to bring her to this time?"

He could feel the weight of their gazes upon him, along with Captain Picard's intense scrutiny. This was a delicate matter, one that required careful explanation.

"The T'Pol that I encountered was meant to die in her timeline," Tyson began, "She was abandoned on a mission that should have ensured her death, but I prevented it. By that logic, she doesn't belong in her timeline anymore. I was the chronal disturbance in that case." The agents exchanged glances. "Her impact here would be unknown," Tyson continued. "Perhaps she was meant to be here all along. We can't know without knowing the future. But since she should have died and I prevented it, she no longer belongs in her original timeline."

Dulmur's brow furrowed. "That's a rather convenient interpretation, Ensign. How can you be certain that her death wasn't a fixed point in time?"

"If her death was a fixed point, would I have been able to prevent it? The fact that I could intervene suggests some flexibility."

Lucsly tapped his pen against his notepad. "But bringing her here could have unforeseen consequences. She's a historical figure, Ensign. Her presence in our time could alter the course of history."

Tyson nodded, acknowledging the point. "You're right, sir. But T'Pol is from the past, coming to our present. She doesn't bring any knowledge or technology that isn't antiquated by current Starfleet standards."

"That may be true," Dulmur interjected, "but consider this. If she was meant to die in her timeline, but you prevented it. Have you not brought that timeline back into alignment with our own?"

"That's easy enough to check," Tyson responded confidently. He spoke clearly, "Computer, do we have access to the crew manifest and captain's logs from the NX-01 Enterprise?"

The room fell silent as they waited for the computer's response. After a brief moment, the familiar voice of the ship's computer filled the air. "Crew Manifest and Captain's logs from the NX-01 Enterprise are available."

"Check for any mention of an Ensign Tyson or Crewman Tyson."

Moments later, the computer responded, "No records found in the crew manifest or captain's logs."

A collective breath seemed to be released in the room. Tyson straightened in his chair, his gaze moving between the temporal agents and Captain Picard.

"I interacted with Captain Archer when I returned with T'Pol to the Enterprise," Tyson explained. "I went through decontamination. There would be some record of my existence if it was indeed our past." Dulmur and Lucsly exchanged meaningful looks, their earlier certainty seeming to waver slightly.

Picard leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "Mr. Tyson, you seem certain that the NX-01 Enterprise you encountered was from an alternate timeline?"

Tyson nodded. "That's exactly right, Captain. One of the other abilities I have, thanks to Q, is the ability to tell when something within time changes. If I did something to change our present, I would know. I'd be able to sense it. The lack of any record of my presence, despite my significant interactions with the crew, provides empirical evidence that the Enterprise I encountered was not from our direct past."

Lucsly's pen hovered over his notepad, his earlier fervor replaced by a look of contemplation. "If what you're saying is true, Ensign, it would change the nature of our concerns regarding T'Pol's presence here."

Dulmur nodded slowly. "Indeed. If she's from an alternate timeline, her presence here wouldn't directly impact our own history."

"Exactly," Tyson said, a note of relief in his voice. "And there's also the alternate interpretation of what I'm proposing," Tyson leaned forward, his expression earnest. "By saving T'Pol from a death that was supposed to happen, I've already altered her timeline. Leaving her there could potentially cause more damage than bringing her here. Her continued presence in a timeline where she was meant to die could cause unforeseen ripples. By bringing her here, we're containing the temporal disturbance I inadvertently created. Her knowledge and experiences, while valuable, wouldn't pose the same risk of altering our timeline as we initially thought. Her presence here could be seen more as... cultural exchange between parallel universes, rather than temporal displacement."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a leap, Mr. Tyson. But I must admit, the evidence you've presented is compelling."

The temporal agents conferred quietly for a moment before Dulmur turned back to face Tyson. "While this doesn't entirely absolve the concerns about temporal interference, it does significantly alter the context of T'Pol's presence here. This is a grey area for the Department of Temporal Investigations. We'll leave the final decision to Captain Picard, as it's his ship."

All eyes turned to Picard. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered the situation. Having a historical figure from centuries past aboard the Enterprise was highly irregular… or was it? Doctor Leonard McCoy had been on the Enterprise-D around the time of Tyson's arrival. But if T'Pol's presence here was meant to be, as Tyson argued, then perhaps more damage could be done by returning her to her own time.

"If the Department of Temporal Investigations takes no issue with her presence, then I would be intrigued to have the Enterprise play host to your guest for a time," Picard said.

"Thank you, Captain. I know she'll prove an asset to the Enterprise, albeit in an unofficial capacity."

Picard nodded. "Make the arrangements then. But she is your responsibility, Ensign. See to it that she adapts well."

"Of course, sir."

Picard stood, straightening his uniform. "Unless there's anything else, gentlemen?"

The agents shook their heads. Dulmur stood, straightening his uniform. "We appreciate your cooperation, Ensign. And your honesty in recounting these events. It's clear you understand the gravity of your actions."

Lucsly rose as well, extending a hand to Tyson. "Remember, Ensign, the timeline is more fragile than you think. Even small changes can have far-reaching consequences. We trust you'll keep that in mind going forward."

The temporal agents nodded in agreement and gathered their belongings. Dulmur tucked his PADD under his arm, while Lucsly pocketed his notepad and pen. Captain Picard stepped forward and extended his hand to each of the agents.

"Gentlemen, thank you for your diligence in this matter," Picard said, his tone formal yet warm. "Your work in preserving the integrity of our timeline is invaluable."

"Thank you, Captain," Dulmur replied, shaking Picard's hand firmly. "We appreciate your cooperation and that of your crew."

Tyson said, "If you'll follow me, sirs, I'll escort you to the transporter room so you may return to Haven.

Crew members moved about their duties through the corridors of the Enterprise-D. Several curious glances were cast toward the temporal agents, their distinctive outfits marking them as visitors.

As they approached the turbolift, a group of officers exited, including Commander Riker. The first officer nodded respectfully to the group.

"Ensign," Riker acknowledged, then turned to the agents. "Gentlemen, I trust your investigation went smoothly?"

"As smooth as temporal investigations ever go, Commander," Dulmur replied dryly.

The group entered the turbolift, and Tyson said, "Deck 6."

They entered the transporter room, where Chief O'Brien stood at the controls. He looked up as they entered, offering a polite nod.

"All set for transport, sirs?" O'Brien asked.

"Indeed we are, Chief," Dulmur replied. They stepped onto the transporter pad. As the agents prepared to leave, Lucsly addressed Tyson one last time. "Ensign, we can't stress this enough. Please stay away from temporal matters whenever possible."

"I'll do my best to keep my adventures firmly in the present from now on."

The transporter beam dematerialized the pair, leaving the pad empty once more. Tyson was glad the Department of Temporal Investigations agents had left the ship without incident.

"Commander, requesting permission to beam to the surface. I'm going to investigate rumors of this planet's innate healing properties and enjoy some shore leave. The Captain previously approved my request." Riker nodded, granting his assent.

Before anyone could speak further, the doors to the transporter room hissed ope,n and Counselor Deanna Troi strode in.

O'Brien turned to greet her, but his words died as the transporter console chirped.

"Incoming transport," he announced.

A shimmering column of light heralded the arrival of another transport. As the beam coalesced, an ornate box materialized on the pad. Riker leaned forward, scrutinizing the unexpected delivery. "What is that?" he murmured.

Suddenly, the visage of an eerie, elongated face carved into the box began to move, and a voice emanated from within.

"Greetings," it intoned. "I hold a message for Deanna Troi." The animated face continued. "Lwaxana Troi and the honorable Miller family will soon arrive. The momentous day is close at hand. Rejoice."

With its message delivered, the carved face froze once more. Riker turned to Troi. "What's going on?" Before she could respond, the box sprang open with a snap and a hiss. Gems, coins, and other exotic items spilled across the transporter pad in a glittering shower. Troi paled, her dark eyes widening. He asked, "What is all this, Deanna?"

The counselor swallowed hard. "They're bonding gifts. What you would call wedding presents."

Comprehension dawned on Riker, followed swiftly by disbelief. "Wedding presents? Who's getting married?"

Troi met his gaze solemnly. "I am."

Tyson stepped onto the transporter pad. "Congratulations, Counselor," he said sincerely before signaling to Chief O'Brien that he was ready to beam down to the planet's surface.

The familiar tingle of the transporter beam enveloped him, and in a shimmer of sparkling light, Tyson materialized on the surface of Haven. The shimmering light of the transporter beam faded, leaving him standing amidst a lush alien landscape. Towering trees with silver bark and emerald leaves swayed overhead, filtering dappled sunlight onto the forest floor. Strange chirps and trills echoed around him, the calls of alien fauna hidden in the undergrowth.

Tyson inhaled deeply, the crisp, clean air filling his lungs. With a thought, he opened a portal to his Personal Reality. T'Pol was there waiting for him, seated calmly on the couch inside his room within the Housing Complex. She stood and stepped through onto the surface of Haven, the portal sealing shut behind her.

"Fascinating," T'Pol remarked, pulling out her tricorder, "I detect over three hundred distinct plant species within a one-kilometer radius."

"All work and no play, huh T'Pol? We're supposed to be on shore leave. Take a minute to enjoy the scenery."

"Did we not just have 'shore leave' on the last planet?" T'Pol asked with a raised eyebrow. "My purpose here is to accompany and assist you. I do not require more 'shore leave'."

Chuckling, Tyson placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe not, but it'll be good for you to relax a little."

For a moment, T'Pol regarded him impassively. Then, her posture relaxed slightly. "Perhaps you are correct. I find this planet quite... aesthetically pleasing."

"That's the spirit!" Tyson said. "Now, let's go explore. We can indulge your curiosity and grab something to eat. Then I want to find one of those hot springs this planet is famous for..."

The breathtaking natural beauty of the landscape immediately captivated their attention. Lush greenery and exotic plants surrounded them while the soothing sound of a nearby waterfall tumbling over stone filled the air. It was a paradise in every sense of the word.

Eager to explore, they emerged into Harmony Plaza. As they took their first steps onto Haven's soil, the atmosphere enveloped them like a warm embrace. The sweetly scented air, filled with the fragrant perfume of alien blossoms, tickled their senses, and the soft babbling of fountains provided a soothing melody. Tyson and T'Pol gazed in awe at the scene before them. The plaza was a masterful blend of architecture and nature, where meticulously designed stone walkways meandered between verdant gardens overflowing with exotic flora and elegant hand-carved structures. Majestic trees stretched their knotted limbs overhead, emerald leaves dancing playfully in the gentle breeze. A massive tiered fountain carved from smooth grey stone spouted water in the plaza's center.

As they walked deeper into the lively plaza, T'Pol's usual Vulcan stoicism seemed to soften ever so slightly in quiet appreciation of the serene beauty surrounding them, and Tyson couldn't help but smile.

Couples and families strolled contentedly along the winding paths, their gentle chatter adding to the plaza's ambiance. Street vendors offered steaming mugs of fragrant tea and trays piled high with juicy exotic fruits Tyson had never seen before. Talented local artisans had set up stalls to display their intricate carvings, weavings, and stained glass sculptures.

T'Pol pulled out her tricorder and scanned their surroundings as they moved through the plaza. "Haven's unique botanical specimens may hold insights into the planet's purported healing properties," she remarked in her usual logical tone. "I believe it would benefit us to analyze the flora thoroughly."

She aimed the humming tricorder at a cluster of vibrant purple flowers. Their delicate petals were adorned with crystalline structures that sparkled like amethyst gems. The tricorder beeped as it collected data, and complex charts and graphs filled the display.

"Fascinating. These flowers contain specialized bioluminescent proteins. Perhaps these compounds interact with something else in the environment to create healing effects."

Tyson smiled at her enthusiasm, subtle as it was beneath her Vulcan composure. They explored the paths, T'Pol clutching the tricorder and examining each new specimen. A twisting tree with silvery leaves caught her attention. She scanned its bark and foliage. "Intriguing. It has a similar biochemical composition as the flowers," she noted.

For two hours, they analyzed the exotic flora, discovering various unique plants with potential. The sun dipped low, bathing the city of Solacium in warm amber light. Vibrant flowering trees lined the streets. Elegant buildings embraced the landscape with sweeping organic architecture. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink, Tyson was drawn to a charming open-air restaurant at the edge of Harmony Plaza. The establishment, aptly named "Starlight Terrace," offered a breathtaking view of the city below and the star-studded sky above.

"What do you say we grab some dinner?" Tyson suggested, gesturing towards the restaurant. "I don't know about you, but all this exploring has worked up quite an appetite."

"That would be agreeable. It appears to be a suitable location to observe local customs and cuisine."

They approached the host, who greeted them warmly. "Welcome to Starlight Terrace. Table for two?"

"Yes, please. Something with a view, if possible."

The host led them to a secluded table on the terrace, which offered a panoramic view of Solacium and the surrounding landscape. As they settled into their seats, Tyson ordered a dish described as a medley of local vegetables in a pureed fruit sauce. T'Pol chose a soup made from native roots and herbs.

As they waited for their meals, Tyson leaned back in his chair, taking in the view. "You know, T'Pol, I'm glad you decided to come along. I mean as my Companion, not just to Haven. It's nice to have company on these adventures."

T'Pol tilted her head slightly. "I find our excursions to be... enlightening. The opportunity to study new worlds and cultures is invaluable."

"So you're enjoying yourself?"

Before T'Pol could respond, their waiter arrived with their meals. Tyson's dish was a work of art, with the vegetables arranged in a spiral pattern. T'Pol's soup steamed gently, releasing a fragrant aroma that she seemed to appreciate. Tyson noticed T'Pol's subtle reactions to the flavors as they began to eat. Her eyebrows raised slightly with each spoonful, a clear sign of approval.

"How's the soup?" Tyson asked, taking a bite of his meal.

"It is... most satisfactory," T'Pol replied. "The combination of flavors is both complex and harmonious. I detect notes of what might be analogous to Terran ginger and Vulcan plomeek."

"High praise indeed. Want to try some of mine?"

T'Pol hesitated, one eyebrow raising ever so slightly. Then, she gave a subtle nod. Tyson speared some of the colorful medley, ensuring none dripped, and extended his fork toward her.

"What are you doing?" T'Pol asked, leaning back slightly. "I am capable of feeding myself."

"Just giving you a taste," Tyson chuckled. "It's something human couples sometimes do to be affectionate."

"I see," T'Pol said.

Tyson laughed good-naturedly. But he held his fork out and raised his eyebrow in challenge.

T'Pol peered at his fork. Maintaining her trademark poise, she leaned forward and sampled a bite of the luminous vegetables. Her eyes widened a fraction.

"Fascinating," she remarked. "The bioluminescent properties enhance not only the visual appeal but also the flavor profile."

Tyson beamed. "I had a feeling you'd appreciate it." He took another bite of the flavorful medley, savoring the view and the company. "What did you make of the planet's supposed healing properties? Your scans seemed pretty thorough."

T'Pol set down her spoon. "Despite the unique enzymes and compounds in the local flora, I found no conclusive evidence to support the claim that this planet possesses extraordinary healing capabilities. The biochemical properties, while intriguing, do not appear to have any direct medicinal effects on humanoid physiology."

Tyson considered her words while taking in the view of Solacium. The city lights began to twinkle as the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky. After a moment, he turned back to T'Pol.

"I'd like to propose a theory, if I may," he said, leaning forward slightly. "In my time, we identified a phenomenon known as the placebo effect. Are you familiar with it?"

"I am not. Please elaborate."

"The placebo effect is a demonstration of the mind-body connection. Essentially, if a person believes they're receiving a treatment that will help them, they often experience real, measurable improvements in their condition. Even if the treatment is inert or has no direct physiological effect." He paused, allowing T'Pol to process the information. Her brow furrowed slightly as she considered the implications. "For example, in medical trials, some participants might be given a sugar pill instead of actual medication. Yet, many of these people often report feeling better and, in some cases, even show physical improvements. Their belief in the treatment's efficacy triggers real healing responses in their bodies," he explained.

"This suggests that the power of belief can have tangible effects on one's physical well-being."

"Exactly," Tyson gestured to the stunning vista before them. "Now, look at this place. It's beautiful, peaceful, and incredibly relaxing. While your scans might not have found any direct healing properties in the environment, I propose that the planet itself might be conducive to healing in a different way. Think about it. People come here expecting to be healed, to find peace and rejuvenation. They're surrounded by natural beauty, clean air, and tranquility. The very act of being in this environment, combined with their expectation of healing, could potentially trigger real physiological changes. Moreover, the relaxation induced by such an environment could lower stress levels, which we know has a significant impact on overall health. Reduced stress can improve immune function, sleep, and other benefits."

"Your theory has merit," she admitted. "It would explain the reports of healing despite the lack of concrete evidence ever discovered. Combining belief and a conducive environment could produce measurable health improvements."

Tyson smiled, pleased that T'Pol saw the logic in his theory. "Exactly. So while Haven might not have any magical healing properties in its soil, air, or flora, the experience of being here could be therapeutic in its own right."

As their plates were cleared away, Tyson said, "I spoke with Captain Picard. He approved your visitation rights on the Enterprise. I've been meaning to ask. How are you finding life in this time?"

"It has been... enlightening. The technological advancements are impressive, though not unexpected. I find the social and cultural changes most intriguing." Tyson nodded, encouraging her to continue. "The level of cooperation and understanding between species has progressed significantly," T'Pol elaborated. "It is... gratifying to see the realization of what began in my time."

"No doubt. I haven't seen any Andorians and Vulcans throwing down on the Enterprise."

She raised an eyebrow at his unusual phrasing. "Indeed."

"Oh, before I forget, I need to pick a wedding gift for Counselor Troi. Care to help me choose? I heard Haven produces some excellent wines."

"I am not certain I would be the most suitable advisor for selecting alcoholic beverages. However, I will assist if you believe my input would be valuable."

After settling their bill, they stopped at a nearby wine merchant. Bottles of various shapes and sizes lined the shelves. The proprietor, a jovial Havenite greeted them warmly. "Welcome, friends! Here to sample the finest wines in the quadrant?"

"We're looking for a wedding gift. Something special, unique to Haven."

The proprietor's eyes lit up. "Ah, a celebration of love! I have just the thing." He disappeared into the back of the shop, returning moments later with an elegantly crafted bottle. The liquid inside seemed to dance with swirls of gold and silver.

"Havenwood barrels," he announced proudly, "infuse the healing essence of our planet into the wine created from locally grown fruits unique to Haven. It's said to bring good fortune and lasting happiness to newlyweds."

Tyson nodded, impressed. "It sounds perfect. We'll take it." However, T'Pol examined the wine skeptically.

As the proprietor wrapped the bottle, Tyson turned to T'Pol. "What do you think? Will Counselor Troi like it?"

T'Pol considered for a moment. "While I cannot speak to individual tastes, the cultural significance of this wine makes it a logical choice for a wedding gift."

With the win secured, they stepped back out into the evening air. The stars were now fully visible, bathing the streets of Solacium in a soft light from both the stars and the bioluminescent plants lining the walkways.

"Well, what do you say we explore more of the city? I've heard there's a botanical garden nearby with some spectacular night blooms. We could check it out and then hit a hot spring to soak off the day's exploration."

"That would be agreeable. I am curious to observe the nocturnal behaviors of Haven's native flora."

Tyson grinned roguishly. "Did you pack any swimwear?"

"I did not anticipate the need for such attire on this expedition."

"No worries," he said with casual confidence.

T'Pol raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Your enthusiasm makes me question your intentions at this hot spring."

Tyson let out a surprised bark of laughter. "You're getting to know me all too well. And if I didn't know better, I'd think you just made a joke."

His combadge chirped, interrupting their plans. "Captain Picard to Ensign Tyson," came the captain's voice.

Tyson tapped his badge. "Yes, captain?"

"We have a situation developing. Your presence is required back on the Enterprise immediately." Picard said firmly.

He looked to T'Pol regretfully, but she spoke before he could. "Go," she said. "Attend to your duties. I will return to the Personal Reality shortly… Perhaps we can come back in the future to visit one of the hot springs since you'll likely be deprived of the experience."

Tyson stepped closer. "I appreciate your understanding and consideration."

Slowly, he raised his hand. T'Pol mirrored the gesture, their fingers joining in an intimate psychic link. She leaned forward, bestowing the lightest kiss upon his lips before pulling away. With a last longing look, Tyson stepped backward.

"On my way, sir," Tyson replied. Tapping his combadge again, he said, "Tyson to Enterprise, one to beam up."

— Star Jumper —

Tyson browsed through the system menu in his HUD as he took the turbolift to the bridge. If he was being recalled, there must be some crisis incoming. Captain Picard and the Enterprise crew had accepted his sudden position as an Ensign without question, despite the Perk being purchased in the alternate Trek timeline. He hadn't been assigned a duty shift, but his guest quarters were reassigned. He still had quarters; they were far smaller, more like a studio apartment than his previous one-bedroom suite. However, he had his Personal Reality Housing Complex to stay in, which was nicer.

Tapping through menu after menu, Tyson searched for a perk he'd previously seen that would allow him to take advantage of his situation. He purchased it without hesitation.

[50 CP (Discounted)] Speedy Promotions (Perk)

Whenever you're a member of a hierarchical organization like a military or corporation, you'll always find yourself being promoted at a faster rate than your peers.

Character Points: 1150

Now maybe he could get that promotion and have some nicer quarters on the Enterprise. Once he had a permanent space on the ship, there were options to link it to his Personal Reality, but he'd hold off on that until it was settled. Tyson strode onto the bridge as the turbolift doors swished open. He went across to another door, then down the ramp to the observation lounge, to join the senior staff already assembled within.

The officers' faces were etched with concern as they reviewed the data on the viewscreen.

Commander Riker addressed him, "Glad you could join us, Ensign. A damaged Tarellian vessel is approaching Haven at impulse. Traveling that slowly… it must be a crippled ship."

"If she can't reach warp, it'd take years to make this trip from Tarella," Geordi agreed.

Riker gave a curt nod. "Without warp capacity, this journey would've spanned decades."

"Please, continue the briefing, Mr. Data," Captain Picard prompted, steepling his fingers on the table.

"Tarella was a Class M planet, similar to Earth, with comparable humanoid inhabitants. However, they succumbed to hatred and attacked one another with biological weapons."

Picard's expression darkened, new lines creasing his face. "Open warfare? With viruses?"

"Correct, Captain," Data confirmed. "One nation released a deadly pathogen targeting the other landmass. The results were... devastating."

Dr. Crusher sighed. "A pointless conflict. It's tragic how humanoids can spiral into violence despite our intelligence." She shook her head sadly.

Picard looked at her, asking, "Can you identify the origin of the infection, Doctor?"

Crusher sighed. "The Tarellians had reached Earth's late twentieth-century level of knowledge. That's all you need if you're a damned fool. A deadly, infectious virus that is not difficult to grow at that modest level of knowledge. The surviving Tarellians are all asymptomatic carriers of their plague. They may look healthy, but any contact with them is deadly."

Tasha Yar added, "We learned the rest of the story in security training. Some Tarellians made it to other worlds, only to die along with the populations they infected."

LaForge nodded. "It's pretty well covered in Academy training now, Captain. Many tried to avoid other civilized worlds as they escaped only to be hunted down and destroyed anyway."

"And it was believed that the last Tarellian vessel was destroyed eight years ago by the Alcyones."

"Yes, sir," confirmed LaForge.

Picard turned to Data. "Exactly when will they reach Haven?"

Data replied with his usual precision, "Exactly thirteen hours, nine minutes, twenty-two seconds…"

"Thank you," Picard interrupted, not needing the exact figure. He continued, "Which creates a very difficult problem for the Enterprise. Our treaty requires us to protect Haven, and Federation policy requires that we assist life forms in need, which must include the Tarellians." 

Picard cleared his throat, shifting in his chair to adopt a lighter, more jovial tone. "However, there will be ample time for your second assignment, voluntary of course. The pre-joining announcement of Counselor Deanna Troi."

He paused, glancing around the table. "And Wyatt Miller."

At the mention of Miller, Commander Riker's face darkened. His jaw clenched, and he stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Without a word, he strode from the briefing room, the doors hissing shut behind him.

Obviously frustrated, Riker's exit left a charged silence in the air, which Tyson broke by saying, "I, for one, would be happy to help with the event planning."

Unfazed, Picard replied, "I've no problem with it so long as it's fine with Counselor Troi. The Miller family is living on Earth, and they might enjoy whatever spin you can add that would make the ceremony more familiar. But, Ensign, I have a request for you. You found a solution to the Tsilokovsky infection. I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd be willing to work with Dr. Crusher on the Tarellian plague after the reception."

"It's been studied exhaustingly, but any insights you can offer might be helpful."

"Of course, Captain. I'm happy to assist in any way I can."

— Star Jumper —

The atmosphere in one of the Enterprise's diplomatic lounges was charged with tension. Tyson had hoped for 10-Forward, but it still wasn't available. Captain Picard had opened one of the ship's many other reception rooms for this impromptu gathering.

Victoria, Wyatt's mother, addressed the captain. "We've discussed it and would like to hold the ceremony tomorrow if you agree. And Captain, would you do us the honor of officiating?"

Caught off guard by the request, Picard responded cautiously, though not unkindly. "Well, yes, of course, if that is what all parties wish."

Lwaxana Troi bristled. "All parties do not wish it. It's simply out of the question. My apologies, Captain, but you lack the necessary training in Betazoid joining rituals."

"Quite true," Picard conceded diplomatically, relieved to be spared the unexpected duty.

"Therefore, you are totally unqualified," Lwaxana continued dismissively.

But Victoria stood firm, refusing to back down. "He is qualified to conduct a traditional Earth ceremony, which is what this will be."

Lwaxana scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "I thought you were humorless. An Earth wedding? Absurd!"

"My family resides on Earth now," Victoria retorted, undeterred by the matriarch's scorn.

Lwaxana feigned pity, slowly shaking her head. "So that explains this backward ritual you request. How sad, Captain, to see a woman decline so."

"Decline?" Victoria repeated incredulously, offended by the woman's uncalled-for slight.

"Mother, enough!" Deanna said, raising her voice, unable to restrain herself any longer.

Nearby, Tyson observed the escalating conflict with growing amusement. Unable to resist fanning the flames, he interjected teasingly, "I vote for the Betazoid-style ceremony."

Lwaxana pointed triumphantly at the tall man. "You see? He understands!"

Data cocked his head inquisitively. "Fascinating. Tyson, why do you advocate for the traditional Betazed ceremony when you hail from Earth?"

He turned an accusatory look upon Lwaxana. "This whole arrangement strikes me as backward. Even in my time, over three hundred years in the past, such antiquated practices as arranged marriages were largely abandoned."

Captain Picard raised a hand. "Ensign Tyson, while Earth customs have certainly changed since your era, we must strive to respect the diverse cultures within the Federation, regardless of how alien their ways may seem."

Tyson dipped his head deferentially. "Of course, Captain. I spoke out of turn." He pivoted to address the expectant android. "To answer your question, Commander, I believe that if Counselor Troi must endure this, we ought to provide her some amusement… In a traditional Betazed wedding, the participants are naked. That should provide sufficient entertainment."

"I see," Data replied, as if that explained everything. The other officers shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uneasy glances at this revelation.

Amusement flickered across Tasha Yar's face, and she rolled her eyes knowingly. "Why am I not surprised you'd focus on the naked aspect, Tyson? You seemed right at home among the Edo."

The ensign shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not a big deal to me."

"Maybe not to you," Beverly Crusher retorted wryly.

Quick as a flash, Tyson volleyed back, "Come now, doctor, you're talking like you took a close look at my medical scans. I'm sure I've got nothing your tricorder hasn't scanned before."

His words brought a vivid blush to the doctor's cheeks. Yar spoke up in her defense. "She's the doctor. She's seen most of us naked."

T'Pol, in her typical Vulcan manner, commented, "He was indeed comfortable with the Edo. Considering I have encountered Tyson unclothed, I can confirm he has nothing to be ashamed of."

Yar sipped her wine and said, low, but not so low that everyone didn't hear, "Even the Vulcan saw him naked. Now I'm feeling left out."

T'Pol turned to Yar. "Lieutenant, I fail to understand why you feel 'left out' when I am engaged in a physical relationship with Ensign Tyson?" Yar's eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Before she could formulate a response, T'Pol continued. "I can only assume, from your words, that you wish to see him naked as well. Were you unaware of our relationship, or is polyamory common among humans?"

Data, ever eager to share information, chimed in before Yar could recover. "Actually, T'Pol, polyamory has a fascinating history in human culture. While not always openly acknowledged, it has existed in various forms throughout Earth's past."

Geordi groaned, sensing another of Data's impromptu lectures. "Here we go..."

Undeterred, Data continued. "In many societies, particularly those with strong patriarchal structures, men of power often engaged in relationships with multiple partners. This was especially prevalent among royalty and nobility."

T'Pol nodded, absorbing the information. "I see. Dr. Phlox on the Enterprise was Denobulan and he had multiple wives, but I never observed such among humans. So, in accordance with human customs, it would not be unusual for Tyson to have multiple female partners. He is, after all, exceptionally powerful by human standards."

"Fascinating," Data interrupted, "Are you suggesting that Tyson's unique abilities make him more suitable for polyamorous relationships?"

"I am merely observing that Tyson's extraordinary capabilities might align with historical human practices of powerful individuals engaging in multiple relationships."

Data tilted his head, processing this information. "An intriguing hypothesis, T'Pol. However, I must point out that correlation does not imply causation. Tyson's abilities, while remarkable, do not necessarily predispose him to polyamorous behavior."

"Perhaps not," T'Pol conceded. "However, it is logical to consider that his unique abilities might influence his approach to relationships."

Tyson, amusedly listening to this exchange, cleared his throat. "I appreciate the academic interest in my love life, but maybe we should change the subject? We're here for Counselor Troi's relationship, after all, not mine."

Data, oblivious to Tyson's intentions, pressed on. "On the contrary, Ensign. This discussion provides valuable insight into the intersection of human cultural practices, interspecies relationships, and individual capabilities. Your situation is unique, but there may be points that are applicable to Counselor Troi's relationship. Giving advice to the soon-to-be-wed is another Earth tradition."

"Indeed," T'Pol agreed.

"If we are to draw parallels between Ensign Tyson's unique situation and historical precedents, one particularly apt example comes to mind. That of Genghis Khan, the founder of the Mongol Empire." The android's words drew curious glances from around the room.

"Genghis Khan was a man of extraordinary power and influence in his time," Data continued, oblivious to the growing discomfort of some of his audience. "He united the nomadic tribes of Northeast Asia and created the largest contiguous land empire in history. But what's particularly relevant to our discussion is the impact his power had on his personal relationships."

Geordi groaned softly. "Data, maybe we should-"

But the android pressed on, undeterred. "Historical and genetic evidence suggests that Genghis Khan fathered an unprecedented number of children with multiple partners. This was not merely a result of his personal desires, but a strategic move to solidify alliances and ensure loyalty across his vast empire."

T'Pol nodded, her eyebrow raised in fascination. "Logical. Using personal relationships as a means of political and social control is a strategy employed by many cultures throughout history, even beyond Earth."

"Precisely," Data agreed. "In fact, records of genetic studies from Ensign Tyson's times indicate that approximately 0.5% of the male population in the world, or roughly 16 million men, were direct descendants of Genghis Khan."

Tyson shifted uncomfortably in his seat, acutely aware of the parallels being drawn. He didn't want his name anywhere near Khan's, given that he was secretly an Augment. The Outlawed Drawback hadn't affected him much because no one knew. "Data, I appreciate the lesson, and most of what you said lines up with my memories from history class, but I'm not sure how this relates to…"

"On the contrary, Ensign," Data interrupted earnestly. "The parallels are quite striking. Like Genghis Khan, you possess abilities that set you apart from the general population. Your power to create portals and your access to advanced healing abilities marks your unique potential."

"Data," Picard warned, sensing the conversation was veering into dangerous territory.

But the android continued, and his programming drove him to complete his analysis. "Just as Genghis Khan's relationships served to strengthen his empire, one could argue that your relationships could have far-reaching implications for the Federation and beyond. Given your abilities, it's not unreasonable to hypothesize that your offspring could inherit some of these traits. This could have significant implications for future generations, much like the genetic legacy of Genghis Khan."

Tasha Yar, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. "Are we really discussing Tyson's... reproductive potential right now?"

"It is a relevant topic," T'Pol stated matter-of-factly. "If Ensign Tyson's abilities can be passed down genetically, it would be logical to consider the implications of his reproductive choices."

Tyson raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Whoa, let's pump the brakes here. I'm not planning on fathering an army or creating some sort of dynasty."

"Perhaps not intentionally," Data replied. "But history shows us that individuals of great power often have an outsized impact on future generations, whether they intend to or not. Genghis Khan likely did not set out to become the ancestor of millions, yet his actions had that effect."

"Fascinating," T'Pol mused. "So, in human culture, it would be considered acceptable, even expected, for a person of Tyson's abilities to engage in multiple relationships?"

Data tilted his head, considering. "While modern human society generally frowns upon polygamy, we've already discussed there are historical precedents and other examples within the Federation. However, it's important to note that ethical considerations and personal choice play a significant role in modern relationships."

"I see. So, the nature of Tyson's abilities and his potential impact on future generations could justify a more... expansive approach to relationships, at least from a logical standpoint."

Picard, sensing the need to steer the conversation back to safer ground, cleared his throat. "I believe we've strayed quite far from the original topic of Counselor Troi's upcoming nuptials."

But T'Pol was not to be deterred. She turned to Tyson. "In light of this information, I believe we need to discuss the nature of our relationship. It appears that human customs, particularly for individuals of your unique status, may allow for a more complex relational structure than I had initially understood."

"T'Pol, I don't think-"

"It is only logical," T'Pol continued, her tone matter-of-fact. "If your genetic material and personal connections could have such far-reaching implications, it would be remiss of us not to consider all possibilities. Counselor, your input would be valuable. As an expert in interpersonal relationships, what are your thoughts on the potential benefits and drawbacks of a polyamorous arrangement for someone in Ensign Tyson's unique position?"

Deanna Troi blinked, caught off guard by the direct question. "I... well, that's a complex issue that would require careful consideration and open communication between all parties involved."

"Precisely," T'Pol nodded. "This is why Ensign Tyson and I need to have a thorough discussion about the parameters of our relationship. It seems there are cultural and practical considerations we have not yet addressed."

Tyson attempted to redirect the conversation. "T'Pol, I appreciate your... logical approach, but maybe this isn't the best time or place for this discussion."

"On the contrary," T'Pol replied, her eyebrow arching. "Given the presence of relationship experts like Counselor Troi and the historical context provided by Commander Data, this seems an ideal setting to begin our discussion."

As the room descended into an awkward silence, Captain Picard found himself wishing for a Romulan attack, a spatial anomaly, or any other crisis that might provide an escape from this increasingly bizarre diplomatic gathering. He took his first sip of his drink, then swirled the ruby liquid in his glass.

"This wine... It's not synthehol."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the captain.

"You're right," Beverly agreed, examining her glass. "I can feel the effects. It's been a while since I've had real alcohol. No wonder this discussion took such a turn."

Picard's brow furrowed. "Where did this come from? We don't keep alcohol on board."

Tyson cleared his throat. "Ah, that would be my doing, Captain. I purchased a barrel on the surface for the reception. I thought it might add a touch of authenticity to the celebration. And it was my gift to the couple."

Lwaxana Troi, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the previous exchange, suddenly perked up. "Oh, how delightful! A proper drink for a proper celebration."

Picard glanced around the room, noticing the flushed cheeks and loosened postures of his officers.

"I believe you're right, Mrs. Troi," Picard agreed. "Though it appears most of the crew are not accustomed to real alcohol. While I appreciate the gesture, Ensign Tyson, in the future, please consult with me before bringing unauthorized substances aboard the Enterprise."

"Of course, Captain. My apologies." he agreed, though he still held an amused expression.

Lwaxana's declaration rang out imperiously across the room, ending the conversations. "So it's settled. Mister Homn will conduct the joining in a traditional Betazed ceremony."

Lines of concern creased the brow of Steven, Wyatt's father. "But Homn can't even talk!" he protested.

The Betazed matriarch arched one sculpted eyebrow, her dark eyes flashing with disdain. "No matter. He is highly adept in the art of sign language." She waved a bejeweled hand dismissively. "The matter is closed."

Victoria bristled, hands clenching into fists at her sides. She demanded through gritted teeth, "Who are you to tell us what we should do?"

Lwaxana's eyes sparkled with a touch of malice. She drew herself up, practically preening. "Your ignorance is astonishing," she purred. "I am Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed." Her tone turned challenging as she tilted her chin arrogantly. "Who are you?"

Tyson interjected. "I hold a treasure as well, one I'll be bringing to the ceremony." he paused, building anticipation. "I'm the keeper of the Fabled Staff of Fantasies. And with a Betazed-style wedding, it will most certainly be on display."

Geordi, Crusher, and Yar burst into laughter. Captain Picard pressed his lips together. He had to keep the peace. Striding over, he addressed the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is a Starfleet tradition that at social gatherings, disputes are not permitted. I hereby declare, therefore, all disagreements resolved."

As the group sat around the table for the meal, Picard took the opportunity to raise his glass. "A toast. To the young couple and their families."

The room filled with a chorus of "hear, hear," and cheers as glasses clinked and tension eased, if only for a moment.

As the laughter and clinking glasses continued in the background, Tyson decided he'd had enough of the party and slipped away from the group with T'Pol at his side. As he strode down the hallway, he heard the soft patter of footsteps behind him. Turning, he found himself face to face with Troi, her usually serene visage marred by a hint of uncertainty. "Tyson, I wanted to talk to you. I appreciate that you said something about my marriage. I understand what you were trying to do."

Tyson chose his next words carefully, not wanting to offend. "I'm struggling to understand why you're going along with this betrothal tradition without advocating for yourself or considering what you truly desire."

Counselor Troi recoiled. A flare of defiance crossed her delicate features. "It's not so simple," she replied crisply. "There are family obligations to weigh, expectations to meet."

T'Pol arched her eyebrow and asked, "You seemed quite amenable to Vulcan customs when we discussed them. Is there something particular about the counselor's arrangement that perturbs you?"

Tyson met T'Pol's gaze. "There is. Where I'm from, women fought hard for equality. Within my lifetime, they couldn't even start a business or control their finances. Crucial rights were stripped away, even healthcare access in extreme cases." He took a step closer to Troi, holding her stare. "You're a respected Lieutenant Commander in Starfleet. Why let archaic tradition undermine your goals and jettison your career? You've proffered advice in high-stakes crises and diplomatic talks, yet you recoil at confronting your mother?" Tyson paused, shaking his head. "Forgive my bluntness, but addressing conflict and emotions is your profession. I'm an empath, too, remember. I can sense your feelings. I can't believe your mother doesn't know how you feel."

Troi's delicate features hardened. "I forged my path in Starfleet, but I'm also trying to honor my Betazoid heritage." She lifted her chin, dark eyes flashing with defiance. "Thank you for the blunt perspective, Tyson. Your candor was unexpected, but I appreciate you speaking so openly."

Tyson softened his tone. "All I mean is, don't let fear bind you to expectations and tradition. You deserve a chance to choose your path, even if it means confronting your family's wishes."

"Thank you. I'll think carefully about what you've said." With a final gracious nod, she turned on her heel and continued down the hallway. As Tyson watched her disappear around the corner, he wondered if his words had changed anything.

His enhanced hearing picked up her next whispered words. "Computer, locate Commander Riker."

Tyson smiled faintly. Perhaps his blunt words had struck a chord and given Deanna Troi the resolve she needed to confront her mother and refuse the arranged marriage.

He glanced at T'Pol, noticing the Vulcan seemed uncharacteristically pensive, her eyes clouded with conflict. "Is something troubling you?" he asked.

"No, nothing," T'Pol replied evenly.

"Ah, the double negative," he pointed out. "Clearly, something weighs on your thoughts."

T'Pol's expression remained impassive, making it clear she had no wish to give voice to the internal debate currently occupying her thoughts. Instead, she met his gaze and asked, "Are you interfering in Counselor Troi's marital arrangements because you deem her a suitable romantic partner for our polyamorous relationship?"

Tyson blinked, momentarily taken aback.

T'Pol continued, "I gathered from your discussion that Deanna Troi is an empath. Any offspring produced would likely be quite gifted psionically."

For several seconds, Tyson could only stare at the lovely Vulcan. Then he broke into laughter, shaking his head in amusement. "Now I know you're messing with me."

— Star Jumper —

The doors to sickbay hissed open as Tyson stepped inside. Dr. Crusher and her team all sat at terminals studying the data related to the Tarellian plague. As he approached, Crusher looked up from her work. "Tyson, I'm glad you're here. I need to brief you on the Tarellian plague and the potential threat it poses to the inhabitants of Haven."

Crusher gestured for Tyson to follow her to a nearby display, where an intricate representation of the Tarellian virus floated. She tapped a few controls, and the image began to rotate, revealing the complexity of the pathogen. "The Tarellian plague is a highly virulent and deadly virus that wiped out nearly the entire Tarellian population," she began, "It's spread through airborne transmission, making it incredibly contagious. The virus targets the respiratory system, causing severe pneumonia and ultimately leading to organ failure. All surviving Tarellians are passive carriers."

"Unfortunately, the virus is highly adaptable and resistant to all known treatments. We've been working around the clock to find a solution, but we haven't had any success. Federation scientists encountered the Tarellians over a century ago and never developed a solution."

"Let's take a step back for a moment," he said, raising a hand. "While I appreciate the complexity here, virology is not my area of expertise. As you know, my Medical Bay operates on technology beyond my understanding." He glanced at the swirling diagram of the virus, feeling out of his depth. "I don't pretend to grasp the intricacies of this plague. But from what I've seen of the Medical Bay's capabilities, it likely holds the solution you seek."

Crusher sighed. She had expected this as much as it pained her to admit it.

Tyson held up his hand for a moment of thought. He hadn't used the Force much while on the Enterprise. He'd used it to push away the crew members approaching him during the Polywater Contagion, and Yar had seen him use it on Ligon. While he'd briefed the senior staff, they hadn't ever really seen him use his abilities beyond opening portals.

"I might be able to cure the plague by using the Force," Tyson said with a hint of uncertainty.

"The Force? You mean that mystical energy field you mentioned?" Dr. Crusher's skepticism was evident.

"Yes. Force Healing is a powerful ability that can combat diseases. It's not just about mending physical wounds; it can purge toxins and pathogens from the body."

Crusher leaned forward, intrigued despite her initial doubt. "And you believe this... Force could cure the Tarellian plague? Something our most advanced medical science hasn't been able to touch?"

"It's possible," Tyson replied. "But there's a catch. I'd have to heal each person individually, hands-on. It's an intensive process." He paused, considering the alternatives. "On the other hand, my Medical Bay could potentially cure all the Tarellians at once."

"But for both solutions, you'd have to be in close proximity to the Tarellians, wouldn't you? That puts you at risk of infection."

Tyson nodded grimly. "You're right. To get them into the Medical Bay, I'd either have to go to them to open a portal, or they'd have to come to me."

She tapped her combadge. "Crusher to Captain Picard. Please report to Sickbay."

Picard's voice came through. "On my way, Doctor."

Minutes later, the doors hissed open, and Picard strode in. "Report, Doctor," he prompted.

"Captain, I've exhausted every avenue pursuing a cure for the Tarellian plague. Our simulations have failed repeatedly." She shook her head in frustration. "But Ensign Tyson believes his Medical Bay may succeed where our science has fallen short."

Picard raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "Go on."

"The Medical Bay utilizes advanced technology beyond what we have access to," Crusher explained. "It cured the Tsilokovsky virus and freed you from the alien energy being."

Tyson jumped in eagerly. "I'm happy to help in any way, Captain. But the issue is I'd need to bring infected Tarellians into my Personal Reality. So either they'd need to come to the Enterprise, which I don't recommend, or I'd need to visit their ship myself."

Captain Picard's face darkened as he considered the potential risks of bringing infected Tarellians aboard the Enterprise. "I see. That certainly complicates matters," he said gravely.

"Yes, it does," Doctor Crusher agreed. "But we believe the Medical Bay is the only route to success. We need your permission to proceed."

Captain Picard's jaw set firm as he weighed the risks involved in their proposal. His gaze shifted between them as he delivered his decision. "I'm sorry, Doctor, Ensign, but I cannot authorize this course of action. The safety of the Enterprise crew is my primary responsibility, and I cannot knowingly jeopardize their well-being."

Doctor Crusher's face fell at his blunt refusal, and she pressed urgently, "Captain, this may be the only chance we have to save the Tarellians from annihilation."

"I understand your conviction, Doctor, but the safety of this crew must come first. Recklessly endangering them is something I cannot condone." Crusher opened her mouth to object, but Picard raised a hand. "Furthermore, sending Ensign Tyson alone into a plague-ravaged ship would be tantamount to ordering his death. I'll not sacrifice any member of this crew by demanding they undertake such peril."

Crusher's shoulders slumped, her agitation plain. Picard's expression softened slightly. "There are additional concerns beyond the risk, Doctor. The Prime Directive must also be considered." He began pacing. "If we utilize advanced technology to rescue the last Tarellians from annihilation, would that constitute interference in their natural development? This pathogen was of their creation. Countless pre-warp civilizations obliterate themselves before achieving warp capability." His mouth twisted bitterly. "While the Tarellians are warp-capable, our involvement may still violate the Prime Directive's spirit, if not the letter." Picard raised his chin. "I'll not hide behind the Prime Directive as an excuse to allow their extinction. But neither will I endanger this crew nor violate my oath of office. I'm truly sorry, Doctor. My decision stands."

Crusher stared at him, crestfallen. But she knew that steely finality in his tone. "Very well, Captain. I'll continue researching and exhaust every possibility to find another solution."

"Please do, Doctor. I have faith that you will leave no stone unturned."

At Doctor Crusher's disheartened look, Tyson cleared his throat. "Captain, a moment, please?" Tyson asked respectfully.

"Very well, Ensign Tyson. What is it you want to discuss?"

"Captain, I fully understand your reasons for denying the treatment proposal for the Tarellian plague, but I humbly ask you to reconsider. I volunteer without reservation for this mission."

Doctor Crusher's eyes widened in surprise. "Tyson, are you certain? Braving the Tarellian ship could prove extremely hazardous, even fatal."

"We can't just stand by and do nothing. I'm sure I can save these people. I've faced plenty of dangers before, and I trust in my equipment to administer the treatment. If we don't act, these people will die. If there's a chance that we can save them, I believe we have a moral obligation to try. Captain, I understand your reservations. Despite what the Temporal investigators determined, you disapproved of my methods against the Romulans. I know people from my era are often regarded with the same wariness as the Tarellians. And that's not without cause." Picard opened his mouth to object, but Tyson pressed on.

"You're not wrong. We nearly destroyed ourselves and our planet through wars and greed."

He paused, letting his words sink in, and the objection on Picard's lips died.

"Do you remember what Q said when he dropped me in your lap? Advancement isn't defined solely by technology and science. Maybe you lost something vital along the way." Tyson smiled. "You might see Q as a menace who likes messing with you. I know what that's like. He relishes tormenting us both. But I can't believe it was simply chance that brought me to your ship. I have much to learn from you, Captain, but perhaps I can also surprise you along the way."

"Let me try to save these people. At best, we save a dying race. At worst, it makes for an interesting log entry. And without me here, Q has one less excuse to bother you."

Captain Picard studied the young ensign. His stern expression gave no hint of his inner thoughts. After a long, tense moment, he finally spoke. "I will allow you to undertake this mission," he said at last. "However, I want you to be equipped with the necessary protective gear and precautions, and I will inform the crew to prepare for any potential fallout."

"Thank you, Captain. I won't let you down."

A sudden announcement from the bridge interrupted their discussion. Commander Riker's voice came over the comm system, urgent and concerned, "Captain Picard, Doctor Crusher, and Counselor Troi to the bridge immediately."

The trio exchanged worried glances before quickly making their way to the bridge. Upon arrival, they found the senior staff gathered around the main viewscreen, which displayed an image of the Tarellian vessel. 

Commander Riker reported, "We have a situation," he said. "Wyatt Miller has just transported himself onto the Tarellian vessel without permission."

Captain Picard's face grew taut with concern. "Why on Earth would he do that?"

Doctor Crusher shook her head, her eyes wide with worry. "I don't know, but we need to get him back immediately. If he's exposed to the Tarellian plague, it could be fatal."

"Captain, there's something you should know. Wyatt told me about a woman he'd been seeing in his dreams since childhood. He had sketches and renderings of this dream woman all throughout his quarters. The woman from Wyatt's dreams, the one he's been seeing, is on the Tarellian ship." Counselor Troi revealed.

The crew exchanged surprised glances. Captain Picard furrowed his brow. "Are you certain, Counselor?"

Troi nodded. "Yes, I saw her when we opened communications with them. She is undoubtedly the reason Wyatt went over there."

"Chasing his dream girl… I can respect that." Tyson said, "We shouldn't waste any time. I'm ready to go over there and help treat the Tarellians. I should be able to save Wyatt as well."

Captain Picard nodded his agreement. "Very well, Tyson. Coordinate with Doctor Crusher and prepare for immediate transport. We'll maintain a transporter lock on you and Wyatt, but again, I must warn you. I will not bring you back to the Enterprise if you're infected with the Tarellian Plague."

Tyson rushed to Deck 6, reaching transporter room 2. He quickly moved to the transporter pad. Deanna entered the room immediately afterward. She turned to the on-duty crewman and said, "Dismissed." As the crewman left, she approached Tyson, her eyes filled with concern. "I need to talk to you. I know you want to help the Tarellians, and I understand that. But you don't have to risk your life. There must be another way."

"Deanna, I appreciate your concern, but I promise you I have already had this discussion with Doctor Crusher and the Captain. We had settled on this course of action before Wyatt's transport. There isn't as much risk to me as everyone is making it seem."

Troi hesitated for a moment and Tyson could feel her emotions shifting through his empathy. "I have to ask. Are you doing this for me?"

"I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. I know this situation with Wyatt affects you deeply, but I'm the one best equipped to help them. Honestly, you're all worried over nothing. I'm going to be fine."

Troi realized she couldn't sway him. Instead, she hugged him tightly and whispered, "Just promise me you'll be back."

Tyson wrapped his arms around her, returning her hug. Grinning, he replied, "I have to do this. Otherwise, I'll miss the triumphant moment of character development when you stand up to your mom and Wyatt's parents and declare the wedding off…"

He joked, "If things don't work out with Commander Riker, I'd happily take you on a date."

Troi playfully swatted Tyson's chest. Her eyes held a hint of moisture but danced with amusement. "Oh, you're incorrigible! Really, Tyson? As if T'Pol isn't enough." She joked back, "Maybe we should work on the character development part first. But fine, I'll consider your offer on the condition that you return safe and sound. Deal?"

Tyson's face lit up with mirth. "Deal! Ha! Your fate has been sealed, Deanna Troi! No take-backs." He declared triumphantly before stepping onto the transporter pad. "And for the record, it was T'Pol's idea. You heard her at the reception. Who would have thought putting a Vulcan and an android in the same room would cause so much drama?"

Troi walked over to the transporter console. Tyson cheekily asked, "Are you sure you know how to operate that thing?"

Troi rolled her eyes in response. "Weren't you the one who reminded me that I'm a Lieutenant Commander? I think I can handle a simple transport."

She smiled wryly. "Maybe."

Tyson's grin faltered slightly. "What do you mean, maybe?"

"Energizing." She said with a playful wink.

The transporter beam shimmered around Tyson, scattering his molecules through the stream. As his form dissolved into golden light, his last glimpse was of Deanna's smiling face. Then, there was only the beam's familiar tingle and the transit blur.

The transporter beam deposited Tyson onto the decrepit Tarellian vessel. He had manifested the helmet of his Gray Goo Suit. The Spacesuit functionality ensured that he wasn't exposed to the virus.

The dim emergency lights flickered erratically across the dilapidated ship. As Tyson surveyed his unfamiliar surroundings, a haggard figure caught his eye. Wyatt stood amidst a small group of eight emaciated Tarellians. They were carriers of a curse that killed all they came in contact with but did not affect them otherwise.

"I'm Ensign Tyson," he announced, "I'm here to help."

Wyatt turned, surprise flickering across his pale, sweat-sheened face. "I didn't expect anyone else to come," he rasped. As Tyson approached, he noticed Wyatt's complexion had grown ashen, his hands trembling slightly.

"You're showing signs of the disease," Tyson said bluntly.

"It was bound to happen," Wyatt replied, attempting to brush off Tyson's observation despite the tremors in his limbs. "I came here knowing the risks."

Tyson didn't feel chastising the man would be helpful, but he couldn't deny that coming to the Tarellian vessel was idiotic. What could Wyatt have hoped to accomplish in this ship with its obsolete technology, where even the greatest Federation scientists had failed after decades of research? Especially without supplies or a solid plan. Coming here had been foolish, a suicide mission driven by emotion rather than logic.

 Tyson couldn't help but think he'd been spending too much time with T'Pol if he was going to chastise someone over being illogical.

Surveying the vessel, he noticed its antiquated technology and dilapidated condition. The ship was at least a century behind the Enterprise-D. No replicators were in sight, explaining the Tarellians' emaciated frames. As Geordi and Riker indicated, the warp engine was dormant, and the ship operated on emergency power alone. At the vessel's heart was an enormous fusion reactor. It was the only thing keeping the lights on and life support functioning.

Tyson couldn't shake the oppressive feeling of doom that seemed to permeate every inch of the ship.

Shaking off his unease, Tyson placed a hand on the nearest wall and opened a portal directly into his Medical Bay. "Everyone, get in and onto a bed," he directed. Let's clear up this infection and see if we can get you all healthy again. You too, Wyatt."

— Star Jumper —

The familiar electronic chirp of the communications console pierced the pensive silence of Captain Picard's ready room. He tapped the console, opening the priority channel from Starfleet Command.

Admiral Jameson's stern, aged face appeared on the viewscreen. "Captain Picard, I have new orders for the Enterprise. You are to proceed immediately to the Persephone System."

"Admiral, we are currently engaged in a delicate situation with the Tarellians. We encountered one of their vessels and have made significant progress developing a treatment for the plague devastating their people, but we require more time to ensure their survival."

The old Admiral remained unmoved. "The Tarellians? They were declared extinct years ago." The admiral paused briefly before continuing, undaunted, "While I understand the difficult position this places you in, Captain, we cannot ignore the growing emergency in the Persephone System. Your ship is the fastest in the sector and is desperately needed there as soon as possible."

Picard's mind raced through options even as duty left him with only one choice. "I formally request a brief delay in our departure. We have a crew member aboard the Tarellian ship working to administer the treatment. Abandoning them now would condemn him to die with them."

The admiral's gaze softened microscopically, but his voice remained unyielding. "I sympathize with your predicament, Captain, but I must deny your request for delay. You have your orders."

Picard closed his eyes briefly. Though it tore at his conscience, he knew he could not disobey a direct command. "Understood, Admiral. We will set course for Persephone immediately."

"Thank you, Captain. Godspeed." Jameson's image winked out, leaving Picard alone with the weight of his duty.

Picard opened a communication channel from his Ready Room to the Tarellian vessel. He saw Tyson through the portal into his Personal Reality, and the weight of his orders bore down on him. Tyson's attention turned to the communication terminal. He stood and reentered the Tarellian ship.

"Ensign, I'm afraid I have grave news," Picard began without preamble. "We've received urgent orders from Starfleet Command. The Enterprise is to set a course for the Persephone System immediately. I'm afraid we cannot delay our departure any longer."

"I understand, Captain. I'll continue administering the plague treatment to the Tarellians as best I can. Wyatt has been cured. With your permission, I'll bring him to sickbay and allow Dr. Crusher to evaluate him and confirm my treatment and scans."

"Make it so." Picard let out a sigh of relief. Yet regret remained etched on his face. "I wish circumstances allowed us another course of action. But my hands are tied in this matter. If, for any reason, you cannot return to the Enterprise before we depart because it is beyond your teleportation range, we will establish contact with the Tarellian vessel once the Persephone situation is resolved. Afterward, we're scheduled to head to Starbase 74 for maintenance and should have time to rendezvous if necessary. I give you my word. We will not abandon you."

"Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your concern, but it won't be a problem. I'll rejoin you shortly."

"I know you will, Ensign," Picard replied heavily. "Good luck. Picard out."

The screen went dark. Picard wished he didn't have to leave the young man behind before resolving the situation. But duty allowed only one path.

Follow orders to the Persephone system and whatever unknown threat awaited them there.

— Star Jumper —

Wyatt's parents, Victoria and Steven, anxiously paced the observation lounge. Lwaxana and Deanna Troi sat rigidly on the lounge's firm chairs. Finally, the door slid open with a soft hiss. Wyatt strode in, with Doctor Crusher close behind. The gathered family exhaled a sigh of relief as they saw him hale and healthy before them.

"Your son is in the clear," Crusher reassured. "Because he was recently infected, the treatment finished much faster than it did for the Tarellians."

Victoria rushed forward and threw her arms around her son, tears of joy and relief spilling down her cheeks. "Oh, Wyatt, thank goodness you're all right."

Lwaxana swept forward, unwilling to be outdone in displays of emotion. She grasped Wyatt's hand in both of hers. "We are so grateful for your safe return, Wyatt." Her voice rang with theatrical warmth. "And now, we simply must continue planning the wedding."

Deanna, who had been silent until now, rose smoothly from her seat. Her voice was firm yet tinged with the faintest hint of sadness. "Actually, Mother, there will be no wedding."

Lwaxana let out an indignant gasp that sounded like a deflating balloon. "What are you talking about, Deanna?" she demanded, her voice sharpened by outrage.

Deanna stood firm. "I've been thinking a lot," she began, "and I've come to realize that this marriage isn't what I want. It isn't what any of us truly want. We're all just blindly following tradition without considering our desires."

Wyatt nodded, stepping forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Deanna. "She's right. We barely know each other, yet we're expected to commit to a lifelong partnership because it's tradition. It doesn't make sense."

Victoria's eyes blazed as she whirled on Deanna. "How dare you dismiss generations of tradition so flippantly? Our families were promised to be united by this marriage. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Before Deanna could respond, Lwaxana chimed in. "Exactly! Who are you to break faith with our honored customs?" She drew herself up, bristling with righteous fury. "You act as though you're the first person ever to question the wisdom of our ways."

Steven raised his hands in a calming gesture, trying to be the voice of reason amidst the growing furor. "Now, hold on, everyone. Perhaps we should take a step back here. Deanna and Wyatt are the ones getting married. Maybe we should listen to what they want."

"Mother, I understand how profoundly important tradition is to our families. But we must recognize that times have changed. The old ways served their purpose in the past, but we should not allow ourselves to be bound by the ghosts of previous generations, forced into a life that neither of us truly desires." Deanna glanced at Wyatt, who gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. "Wyatt went to the Tarellian ship, risking certain death because there was a woman there that he saw in his dreams. Someone he likely believed he was destined to be with. If he's that uncertain, why would you force us together? What kind of foundation is that for a marriage?"

Wyatt stepped forward, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Deanna in a show of solidarity. "Deanna is right. If we are to be married, it should be founded on real love and understanding between us, not merely fulfilling the expectations handed down by our families," he declared. "We need time to discover who we are as individuals first, to understand our hearts before we can commit to each other for life."

Lwaxana's eyes flashed with indignation. Her carefully painted lips drew into a tight frown. "Have you thought about the message this sends to the rest of our people, that our most sacred customs can be easily discarded?"

Deanna lifted her chin in quiet defiance. "It sends the message that we are strong enough to make our own choices, to forge our own paths through life rather than mindlessly follow those laid out for us by the past," she replied, "We honor tradition, but we must also have the courage to question it when needed. Isn't that a message worth sending, Mother?"

The room became a cauldron of roiling emotions as the two families struggled to settle their disagreement. Shock and anger mixed with confusion and a small amount of fear. Yet, Deanna stood firm in her bold declaration of independence from the shackles of tradition.

Picard stepped into the observation lounge to find the Troi and Miller families. Clearing his throat softly, he drew their attention. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for the intrusion," he began, regret heavy in his voice. "But I'm afraid I must inform you of a change in plans. The Enterprise has received an urgent summons to the Persephone System and we must depart immediately. Therefore, I must regretfully ask that you all disembark, as I can no longer officiate the wedding ceremony."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room at the captain's words. Deanna Troi addressed Picard directly. "Captain, there will be no need for you to officiate, for there will be no wedding," she declared. "I have decided to remain aboard the Enterprise. The wedding is canceled."

The two families responded to her blunt announcement with disappointment and understanding. Lwaxana Troi, however, was not so easily placated. "Deanna, are you certain this is what you want?" she asked.

"Mother, I have made my decision. My place is here on the Enterprise, where I can make a real difference. This is where I choose to stay."

Picard regarded Troi with quiet respect, acknowledging the difficulty of her choice to prioritize duty over family. He had made this sacrifice many times before. He gave her a solemn nod and then addressed the gathered families.

"I understand this is a challenging situation for everyone," he said gently. "Rest assured, arrangements will be made for your swift and safe transport off the Enterprise. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, and I wish you all the best."

Deanna's voice rang out just as Picard reached the lounge door. "Captain, wait," she called.

"What will become of Tyson if the Enterprise departs?"

Picard halted. He knew Tyson's predicament weighed heavily on her. Though Tyson had been prepared to treat the Tarellians, Wyatt's actions precipitated his abrupt transport.

"I informed Ensign Tyson of our imminent departure," Picard explained frankly.

Deanna's features still held traces of doubt. "But what will happen once the treatment concludes? Will we return for him?"

"I cannot promise anything, Counselor. Our directives from Starfleet Command are explicit. We must voyage to the Persephone System forthwith. However, you have my word that I will do all in my power to guarantee Tyson's safe return once our mission concludes. Ensign Tyson has assured me no complications will arise regarding his return to the Enterprise after he succeeds in healing the Tarellians. I have no cause to question his sincerity. Besides, he seems to have a talent for returning to the Enterprise after his forays without our intervention."

Deanna knew she must accept the circumstances at hand. Tyson had promised this situation was not as dire as she feared. The best course was to trust in him. "Thank you, Captain," she acknowledged softly.

Picard offered an understanding smile, attempting to convey his support. "You're welcome, Counselor. If you pardon me, I must attend to our departure preparations."

The Captain exited the lounge, leaving the Troi and Miller families to grapple with their decision. Meanwhile, Deanna Troi readied her goodbyes to her mother and the Millers.