Stardate: 41156.9

Earth Standard Date: February 27, 2364

Location: NX-01 Holodeck Simulation, U.S.S Enterprise-D, Orbiting the Fourth Planet of the Deneb System.

Tyson and Troi stepped into the holodeck. As the doors closed behind them, the room went completely black. Troi sensed Tyson's growing unease and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Remember, this is just a simulation. You're safe here," she reassured him.

Tyson stood motionless in the pitch-blackness, unable to see anything around him. In a blink, his surroundings changed entirely. He now found himself in a small, cramped room with an odd shape that slowly came into focus, revealing a shuttle pod interior.

A screen flickered to life near the forward control console. The screen was black for a moment and a text notification popped up on the screen.

Episode: Star Trek The Next Generation - Enterprise Tour Complete!

+50 RP

Reality Points: 550

The text was quickly replaced by a video. Tyson recognized the stern visage of Captain Jonathan Archer, commanding officer of the NX-01 Enterprise, appearing on the display.

Archer's voice crackled through the speakers. "Recruit, by the time you receive this message, your shuttle pod should have already docked with the Seleya." His tone was grave, carrying the weight of the situation. "Enterprise picked up the Vulcan distress call and attempted to provide aid, but all the Vulcans aboard are suffering from neurological decay caused by Trellium-D. We lost a mako and T'Pol in the medical bay." At this, his jaw tightened, grief briefly shadowing his eyes. "Malcolm and I barely escaped ourselves."

Tyson listened intently, unconsciously leaning forward. Archer continued, "Malcolm managed to get you out there by remote piloting the shuttle pod. You're their only hope now." The captain's stare was unrelenting through the viewscreen. "We don't expect a miracle from you. Enterprise will return to pick you up once you navigate the shuttle pod out of the asteroid field. Good luck."

The message ended abruptly as the screen winked out. Tyson peered through the forward windows but saw the shuttle pod wasn't moving, confirming they had already docked with the afflicted Vulcan ship.

Tyson had been so absorbed in watching the viewscreen and listening to Captain Archer's urgent message that he had forgotten Counselor Troi was even there. She spoke up from behind him, breaking the silence that had fallen after the transmission ended.

"So how do you want to handle this?" she asked.

Tyson nearly jumped at the sound of her voice, so immersed had he been in taking in their surroundings and the explanation video. He turned to face Troi, considering their options and trying to come up with a plausible strategy that wouldn't reveal his meta-knowledge of the situation.

"In my time, we had videogames with missions similar to what we're facing now," Tyson began, hoping his explanation would justify whatever decision he made. "Usually in those games, the characters giving you your orders, or quests, would provide hints within the dialogue about how best to accomplish the mission. The one thing Captain Archer said that could be interpreted as a hint was that they lost a Mako and T'Pol in the medical bay. That gives us our first destination."

Troi nodded thoughtfully as she listened. "Do you have any information that might be helpful?" Tyson asked, hoping she could provide some useful insight.

"Vulcans are typically two or three times stronger than humans," Troi replied. "But I'm not sure how they'll be affected in their current condition here."

"Thanks for the heads up," Tyson said gratefully. "Are you ready?"

Troi gave a nod of agreement. Together they climbed the ladder leading from the shuttle up into the afflicted Vulcan ship, unsure of what they would find within.

The docking corridor of the Vulcan cruiser was dark and foreboding. Wires sparked fitfully and conduits leaked ominously along the walls, casting an eerie pall on the passageway. Tyson's eyes tracked warily across the unsettling surroundings as he and Troi made their way cautiously through the flickering gloom. The strobing lights threw twisted shadows across the bulkheads, adding to the sinister atmosphere.

In the distance, Tyson spotted a shambling figure emerging from the darkness. It turned and began lurching unsteadily toward them, movements disjointed and jerking. The staggering approach sent a chill down Tyson's spine, hackles rising at the unnerving sight.

Tyson approached the control panel set into the wall of the corridor, assuming it controlled the bulkheads ahead, but the angular Vulcan script was indecipherable to him. He turned to Troi, and asked, "Any suggestions?"

Troi blinked, shrugging. "This was the simulation you chose. We weren't provided any weapons. You may as well put those muscles of yours to use."

The corrupted Vulcan shambled toward Tyson, lurching forward in uncoordinated movements. Tyson watched its approach warily, knowing that his best chance to avoid being struck by the creature's powerful blows was to rely on the Snakeskin Perk that allowed him to dodge attacks more nimbly. But the perk worked better the less he was wearing. As the corrupted Vulcan closed in, Tyson stripped off his shirt, exposing his muscular physique.

Deanna Troi looked on with appreciation as Tyson removed his shirt. Tyson had been trying to suppress his empathic senses, finding it disorienting on the holodeck where the simulated creatures lacked empathic signatures, unlike the real Enterprise crew members in nearby rooms. But even dialing down his abilities, he still picked up a flare of interest from Deanna when he shed his shirt. Tyson couldn't help but smile slightly at that.

The corrupted Vulcan lunged, its pale arms outstretched, grasping hands seeking purchase. Tyson sidestepped smoothly, the creature's attack missing him by mere inches. As the Vulcan stumbled past, off-balance, Tyson pivoted and delivered a sharp, precise blow with his fist to its midsection. The impact doubled the creature over, giving Tyson an opening. With a grunt, he launched a fierce, powerful kick that sent the corrupted Vulcan sprawling backward to the floor.

But the creature was up again, relentless in its assault. It came at Tyson hard, but he met the attack head-on, ducking under the corrupted Vulcan's wild, sweeping swing before hammering it with a crushing, bone-jarring punch to the chest. It reeled back from the tremendous force of the blow.

They exchanged attacks then, Tyson raining down merciless impacts as the Vulcan wavered under the relentless battery but somehow kept coming. Tyson battered it relentlessly, gradually wearing the creature down bit by bit with his precise, controlled strikes. With a final, mighty blow, Tyson knocked the corrupted Vulcan to the floor where it lay unmoving in a broken heap.

Breathing hard from the exertion, Tyson scanned his surroundings warily for any other threats. In the silence that followed, he became aware of the pounding of his own heart, the only sound now aside from his measured breaths.

The quiet was interrupted by the sharp echo of clapping. Tyson glanced over to see Counselor Troi standing nearby, her dark eyes wide with what could only be described as impressed astonishment.

"That was amazing," she said, her voice tinged with awe. "A bit brutal, I'll admit, but impressive nonetheless."

Tyson smiled slightly. "Thanks, but let's not draw any more of them to us," he replied, his voice low.

Tyson strode over to the console, beckoning Troi to join him with a wave of his hand. "Can you make heads or tails of any of this?" he asked. "Maybe find a way to the medbay for us?"

Deanna stepped up and began prodding at the controls until a diagram of the alien ship blossomed across the screen. Troi explained the particulars of the ship's layout according to the diagram. "I think I've got it," he announced when she had finished. "Follow me."

Deanna followed behind Tyson, matching his confident stride even as they wound through the alien ship's maze of identical corridors. He moved with purpose as if he had a clear destination in mind despite never having set foot on the vessel before.

They soon reached a collapsed section where rubble and twisted metal barred their way. Without hesitation, Tyson turned and tore open a maintenance panel set into the wall just shy of the blockade. Behind it, a narrow ladder disappeared up into darkness. Tyson seized the rungs and scrambled swiftly upwards. Deanna waited a moment before following, not wanting to crowd the man on the tight ladder. She moved carefully, hyperaware of the yawning shadows above and below.

"Do you play many games?" Tyson asked, looking down as they ascended.

"I'm not a holodeck person," Deanna replied. "I do enjoy card games though." She studied his back thoughtfully. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"In my time, we had many types of games. My favorites were RPGs, Role-playing games," Tyson explained. "I really enjoyed them. This is similar, but so much better because I'm not just playing, I'm part of the story, living the adventure."

Tyson halted abruptly as he stepped off the access ladder. The corridor stretched before them, choked with twisted shards of metal and debris that transformed the once pristine passage into a treacherous maze. Gloom enveloped them, the emergency lights doing little to pierce the oppressive darkness. With the power offline for so long, even the backup systems could barely muster more than a dim, flickering glow, leaving the ship swaddled in menacing shadows.

Cautiously, Tyson picked his way through the debris, gesturing for Deanna to follow in his footsteps. The schematics suggested the medbay couldn't be far now, yet the way forward remained obscured by the devastation surrounding them. Tyson's senses strained, alert for any sign of movement in the murk.

Without warning, two shambling shapes emerged from the shadows ahead. The first corrupted Vulcan lurched toward them, movements disjointed and unnatural. Tyson pivoted aside as its grasping hands shot out, narrowly avoiding its attack. Seizing the opening, he slammed a fist into its midsection, his boosted strength staggering the creature. It swiftly recovered, lashing out with jagged nails. Tyson wove and ducked the blows, his Snakeskin Perk allowing him to slip through the attacks unscathed.

The second Vulcan shambled forward to join the assault. Tyson retreated steadily down the passageway, the relentless creatures pressing him back. Deanna watched helplessly, heart hammering as she silently urged Tyson on. With a final burst of effort, he dispatched the creatures, their corrupted forms collapsing to the deck.

Together they pressed on through the ravaged ship until the medbay doors loomed before them. The interior was a disaster zone; medical equipment lay strewn about, some reduced to mangled scrap while others sputtered erratically. Scorch marks and deep gouges marred the walls and floor, evidence that a vicious battle had been waged here. Tyson and Deanna exchanged uneasy glances, steeling themselves before venturing into the ransacked medical bay.

Tyson picked his way carefully through the debris-strewn sickbay, stepping over the wreckage of biobeds and medical equipment. The room showed signs of a violent struggle, with consoles smashed and bulkheads buckled. Amidst the destruction, a single biobed remained relatively intact, its diagnostic panel still glowing with power.

As Tyson approached, he saw that the bed held the motionless form of a Vulcan woman. Though outdated compared to 2360s technology, the biobed appeared functional. Tyson recognized the angular features and severe bowl-cut hairstyle of the bed's occupant. It was Sub-commander T'Pol, an important figure in the early days of Starfleet. Slender, wiry muscles lined T'Pol's frame. Her pointed ears curved up in the distinctive Vulcan fashion. She looked fragile lying motionless on the biobed, her eyes closed as if in sleep. Assuming Tyson's meta-knowledge held, she was in the early stages of Trellium poisoning, which caused increasing paranoia and aggression in Vulcans as it damaged their neural pathways. If left untreated, it would eventually destroy all higher brain functions, reducing its victims to corrupted, zombie-like figures he'd been fighting.

Glancing over at his companion, Tyson saw Counselor Troi standing back from the biobed, her body language matched the sense he was getting from his empathy, discomfort. He turned to her and asked gently, "Are you doing okay, Counselor? You haven't been very active. It almost seems like you aren't having fun."

Troi chuckled ruefully, a faint smile touching her lips. "I'm going to be honest, I didn't enjoy combat training at Starfleet Academy."

Tyson nodded understandingly. "I was going to carry T'Pol back to the shuttle. When we get there, if you'd prefer, I can finish this mission on my own. I'm rather enjoying it."

"I'm glad you're having fun," Troi replied, nodding in acquiescence. "I think I'll take you up on that offer. I'll have the computer notify me when you're finished, but remember we have a staff meeting in a few hours. If you take too long, I'll come back and drag you out."

Tyson noticed the still form of the Mako captain Archer had mentioned. The man lay amidst the wreckage, his uniform was tattered and his body unmoving. Tyson approached and knelt beside him, searching for any signs of life, but found none. The Mako was dead. However, his particle rifle lay nearby, having fallen from his grasp.

Tyson lifted the rifle gingerly, turning it this way and that as he inspected it. The weapon felt solid and deceptively light in his hands.

He looked to Counselor Troi and asked, "Would you prefer the gun, ma'am?"

Troi made an indelicate snorting sound at the offer. "It's a little larger than what I'm used to, but I think I can handle it," she replied wryly.

"That's what she said," Tyson quipped without thinking.

Troi regarded him steadily for several long seconds as his snarky reply hung between them. But then she laughed. "That's quite funny," Troi said, dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

Tyson chuckled along with her, relief flooding through him. "It's a classic where I'm from," he explained, flashing a lopsided smile.

Grinning, Tyson turned and headed back to the biobed where the unconscious Vulcan woman lay. He hauled T'Pol up onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry, eliciting a soft groan from her limp form. Troi was already at the medbay doors, the particle rifle looking natural in her hands despite her earlier protests. She wielded the weapon with an ease betraying her Starfleet training, making it clear she wasn't nearly as rusty as she claimed. Rifle at the ready, Troi led the way out. Tyson followed with T'Pol's slender body draped over his shoulders, hoping the counselor knew how to use that weapon if needed.

Tyson stepped out into the corridor with the limp form of T'Pol draped unceremoniously across his broad shoulders. No sooner had he emerged than the shuffling forms of two corrupted Vulcans lurched into view. They were same two he had incapacitated during their earlier trip to the medbay. Now reanimated, they shambled toward Tyson and Troi with outstretched hands and vacant stares.

Troi's grip tightened on the bulky particle rifle in her hands as she stepped up to meet the threat. With an expert flick of her wrist, she snapped the rifle into position and squeezed the trigger. A brilliant lance of energy erupted from the emitter, striking the lead Vulcan square in the chest. It let out a serpentine hiss as the beam staggered its advance, but did not drop the creature. Troi's dark eyes narrowed, realizing the power settings were too low. Her fingers danced across the controls, dialing up the intensity. She took aim once more and fired. This time the beam speared directly into the Vulcan's torso in a burst of heat and light. It collapsed to the deck boneless, a gentle wisp of smoke rise from its motionless form.

Whipping the rifle towards the second creature, Troi fired again without hesitation. The shot caught the Vulcan on its left shoulder, dropping it instantly before it could shamble another step.

Tyson let loose a low, appreciative whistle as he shifted T'Pol's slender weight across his shoulders. "You've been holding out on me, Counselor," he remarked, one eyebrow raised in appraisal of her unexpected skill.

A hint of pink flushed Troi's dusky cheeks as she met Tyson's gaze. The barest trace of a smile turned up the corners of her full lips. "Maybe a little," she admitted coyly. Without another word passing between them, Tyson and Troi set off down the corridor, ready to face whatever other threats might bar their way. Troi kept the rifle poised in her steady hands, prepared to cut down any more of the corrupted Vulcans that crossed their path.

With T'Pol's limp form draped across his shoulders, Tyson quickly realized the fireman's carry would be impossible on the narrow confines of the ladder. At five foot seven and a mere one hundred thirty pounds, T'Pol was dwarfed by Tyson's larger frame. Thanks to the Best of the Best Perk, he stood at six foot six and tipped the scales at two hundred fifty pounds of solid muscle. Carefully, he shifted her into a makeshift bridal carry, cradling the unconscious woman against his chest. Her head lolled back, silky brunette hair spilling over his arm as her body settled into his embrace.

Gripping the rungs, Tyson began his descent, hyper-aware of keeping T'Pol balanced in his arms. Each movement was slow and steady as he picked his way down two levels toward the shuttle deck. By some small miracle, he managed to avoid dropping his precious cargo or losing his grip on the metal rungs.

When another corrupted Vulcan lurched into their path, Troi dispatched it with a squeeze of her trigger, the rifle cracking through the air as easily as swatting a bothersome fly. Tyson didn't even break stride, his focus solely on the woman cradled protectively against his chest as he carried T'Pol into the shuttle pod. Kneeling down, he laid her gently on the floor and finally released the breath he'd been holding since first hoisting her limp body into his arms.

Tyson knelt beside T'Pol's motionless form. He studied her serene features a moment longer before a gentle voice broke the pensive silence.

"We've only got a few hours before the staff meeting, Tyson," Counselor Troi said, "It's important we're both there on time." Tyson nodded slowly, acknowledging the counselor's words. "If you want to leave early, we could swing by the shuttlebay first," Troi suggested, "Or explore other parts of the ship."

"Thank you, Counselor. But I think I'd prefer to see this program through." he replied, his voice tinged with gratitude and resolve. Troi offered an understanding smile, before passing Tyson the particle rifle and stepping through the arched exit of the holodeck door.

Tyson was now alone in the holodeck. He stepped back into the Seleya. With Counselor Troi now absent, an opportunity presented itself. He fished out the Access Key from his pocket. Ascending the stairs, he held the Access Key up to the panel beside the bulkhead. The panel made a sound, but it wasn't the affirmative beep, he'd become accustomed too, this one was clearly the sound of denial. A message appeared on the panel.

Warning: Entering your Personal Reality from an alternate reality (Star Trek Enterprise) requires an Inter-Reality Connecting Door.

[-50 RP] Inter-Reality Connecting Door: Star Trek Enterprise Continuity (Personal Reality)

These doors come in pairs and can connect your Personal Reality and another reality. You may choose to move this door, causing it to appear as a tarot-sized playing card and if placed on a wall it turns into a door. Using the Access Key on one of these doors allows you to turn it back into a card. You must be physically at the location you desire to install it and once installed the Door cannot be removed by anyone or anything lacking an Access Key. As long as these doors exist, they require no key to open and cannot be locked. If you connect an external reality to your Personal Reality through a pair of these doors, that reality is not frozen in time but rather progresses on your Reality's internal clock, even after you leave it, even if the door is currently closed. Warning: Those on the other side can open the door without your permission, so be careful where you put it.

Reality Points: 500

Tyson stood motionless as a ripple of awareness washed over him. Though his physical surroundings remained unchanged, his Cosmic Awareness Perk informed him that reality itself had shifted. The holodeck of the Enterprise-D now overlapped with the interior of the Vulcan ship Seleya, centuries earlier in the universe's timeline. He occupied the epicenter where these two realities collided, simultaneously present in both.

This holodeck program had crossed a threshold into true existence. The people and objects populating the simulation, once mere photons and force fields, now lived and breathed with substance. Though the dimensional physics eluded him, Tyson harbored no doubts. The holodeck that had enveloped him, in a playful fiction, had morphed into an alternate history as legitimate as the one he left behind. The holodeck adventure was no longer just a game, it had become real.

Tyson's eyes darted around the empty warehouse, taking in the bland expanse beyond the antechamber. Gone were the cold metallic walls and debris-strewn floors of the Vulcan ship Seleya. Through the Inter-Reality Connecting Door, was his Personal Reality, where the air lay still, lacking the constant background hum of a starship's engines that was becoming commonplace.

He turned and glanced back at the bulkhead doorway through which he had entered. The knowledge that he could step back through that threshold at any moment and return to the ship was somewhat disorienting. It seemed almost unbelievable that the destroyed interior of a Vulcan vessel and this blank, expansive warehouse could exist side-by-side, separated only by a single door frame.

In an alcove along one side of the antechamber Tyson spotted a console. He reached out, his fingers manipulating the touch-sensitive controls, interacting with the device. After a few experimental taps and swipes. The console's screen displayed page after page of upgrade options for his Personal Reality. Tyson scrolled through the extensive list of customization choices and expansions available for purchase, searching for one particular addition that had caught his eye the previous night when he had scanned through the offerings on his PADD. The catalog of modifications had been extensive, but one option had stood out to Tyson due to its obvious value for his current situation.

[-100 RP] The Medical Bay (Personal Reality)

This can treat all medical or dental issues on anyone who still has a pulse or equivalent. Provides detailed accounting of a person’s medical history. Will not repair genetic defects or replace/repair cybernetics and cannot differentiate between beneficial and harmful nanites or implants on its own. Works on animals as well. Treatments take anywhere from one hour to a solid week depending on the degree of damage.

Tyson stood staring at the Medical Bay upgrade hovering before him, scratching his chin as he considered the implications. With the Medical Bay, his Personal Reality could become more than just an empty warehouse. It could be a haven, capable of healing and restoring even the most grievous wounds. After dangerous missions, this place could be a retreat for Tyson to recover. In times of crisis, he could harbor the injured and dying here, possibly right under the noses of his enemies. The tactical and personal benefits were immense. Best of all, the Medical Bay would scale to meet any need. If a hundred injured people came crawling to his door, a hundred healing beds would manifest to meet them.

Tyson nodded slowly as he contemplated the possibilities before him. This Medical Bay could be invaluable, both for his current predicament and for future missions yet unknown. As for the afflicted Vulcans aboard his ship, while they appeared like the walking dead, they were not actually undead. Trellium had ravaged their nervous systems and higher brain functions, but held no magical properties to reanimate the dead. The Medical Bay's restorative capabilities could counteract the damage done and return them to health. Saving the Vulcan was not possible with the technology available in the Star Trek Enterprise episode he now found himself reliving. The Medical Bay was their only hope.

Having contemplated the immense tactical and personal benefits, Tyson nodded resolutely and initiated the purchase sequence. The console in the antechamber beeped and flashed with a green affirmative light, confirming the transaction.

Reality Points: 400

Tyson stepped back into the familiar confines of the Seleya. He made his way down the ladder to the shuttle where T'Pol still lay unconscious. With care, he slid his arms under her limp body and lifted, marveling at how light she felt in his grasp. Her head lolled back over his arm, exposing the elegant curve of her neck.

Vulnerable. Helpless.

He shook his head tamping down those thoughts. Ascending the ladder with T'Pol in his arms, Tyson crossed back into his Personal Reality. He walked with purpose toward the newly acquired Medical Bay. Stepping through the doorway, he was struck by how closely the facilities mirrored the advanced medical technology found inside the Enterprise's own sickbay. Along one wall stood a single biobed. The contours of the diagnostic bed were designed to automatically adapt to a patient's form, ensuring optimal comfort and recovery conditions. An array of monitors and equipment flanked the bed, screens flickering to life as Tyson approached. Around the central biobed, medical instruments, and devices were arranged.

Gently, Tyson laid T'Pol atop the biobed. Sensors bathed her in a soft blue light, gathering vital statistics as they scanned her unconscious form. Monitors began displaying streams of data. Though modeled on the Enterprise's sickbay, this Medical Bay held restorative capabilities far beyond the flagship's facilities. As Tyson watched, T'Pol became wreathed in a gentle glowing aura as the Medical Bay began its healing work.

Tyson stepped out of the Warehouse and moved down the corridor until he reached the bulkhead console of the Seleya. He held up his Access Key. There was an immediate response. With a faint hum of energy, a card materialized in his grasp; the doorway to his Warehouse winked out of existence, and the grey walls of the Seleya corridor reappeared.

Tyson examined the card closely. It was about the size of a standard playing card, but he knew it represented something far greater than just paper and ink. Across the top read the title "Inter-Reality Door: Star Trek Enterprise" in bold font. The image on the card depicted the NX Enterprise in flawless detail. The saucer section dominated the foreground, set against an endless starfield. The ship's glowing blue nacelles pulsed with radiant energy as if it wasn't a card at all, but a live feed of the ship; it reminded Tyson of the animated portraits in Harry Potter. As he held the card, Tyson could almost feel the power of the inter-reality doorway it signified.

In that moment, Tyson was keenly aware of the card's potential. It represented a gateway between his Personal Reality and the universe of Star Trek Enterprise. For now, it was merely an icon rendered on cardstock, but he knew that when activated, it would become a bridge between realities.

Tyson's fingers danced across the interface, repeating Troi's earlier actions, and calling up a three-dimensional map of the Vulcan starship's corridors and sections. The intricate web glowed before him, each deck and junction rendered in precise, glowing detail. With a few deft inputs, he charted a course that would take him through the entirety of this deck, leaving no section unexplored. The path he traced was strategic and winding, yet finishing near an access hatch that would grant him passage to the next deck. As he finalized the route, Tyson dismissed the interface with a wave of his hand.

Tyson lifted the helmet that had been forgotten at his belt and turned it over in his hands. Though he doubted she would care, due to his Live and Let Live Perk; without Counselor Troi present, he was free to make full use of the tools at his disposal.

He slid the helmet over his head. It settled into place with a quiet hiss, the interior padding conforming to match the shape of his skull. At the same moment, a skintight silver suit began spreading across Tyson's body, deploying from hidden seams in the collar ring of the helmet. In seconds it had encased him completely, like a second skin of quicksilver. An array of subtle readouts flickered to life on the interior display of the helmet.

The suit would protect him from the vacuum of space, should his route take him through any compromised sections of the ship's hull. And with the suit's systems able to copy the map from the Seleya's panel interface, Tyson had his own copy overlaid on the helmet's heads-up display.

In response, a shimmering golden trail materialized on the map, snaking along the planned path. Tyson set off without hesitation, following the glowing trail down the desolate corridors.