Star Jumper

Episode 3.1 - Anomaly

Stardate: 41157.5

Earth Standard Date: February 27, 2364

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

Tyson stepped onto the bridge of the Enterprise-D, following Counselor Troi into one of the most iconic settings in Star Trek. When Q brought him to this universe, he had arrived on the bridge but hadn't taken the time to truly appreciate it.

The spacious command center was laid out in a semi-circular fashion. At its center sat Picard in the captain's chair, flanked on either side by seats for the first officer, Commander Riker, and another senior officer, typically the ship's counselor or science officer. Dominating the forward wall sat a large viewscreen, providing real-time visuals of the space outside the ship. Below it, the operations and conn stations were manned by the android, Lieutenant Commander Data, and another officer. Those consoles were responsible for navigating the vessel and managing its day-to-day functions. The tactical station was above and behind the captain's chair, equipped with controls for the Enterprise-D's phasers, photon torpedoes, and deflector shields. Its operator, Lieutenant Yar, was responsible for the ship's defense and security. The rear of the bridge housed science and engineering stations, where officers monitored the ship's systems and surrounding space. Advanced sensors and analysis tools enabled the crew to gather and interpret crucial data for their missions. Clean lines, carpet, and a calming color scheme defined the bridge's aesthetic. Softly lit panels of LCARS interfaces provided access to the ship's vast databases and control functions, complementing the ambiance.

Upon their entrance, Captain Jean-Luc Picard greeted them, "Ah, Counselor, Mr. Tyson, you've arrived. I presume your tour went well. Let us adjourn in the Observation Lounge."

Following the captain's lead, Tyson, along with Counselor Troi and the rest of the senior staff, exited the bridge through one of the side doors. As they departed, other officers seamlessly took over their stations, ensuring the continuous operation of the bridge. The group moved along a ramp that connected the bridge to the Observation Lounge. This particular ramp, curving gently away from the bridge, was a feature not depicted on the television show. Tyson took in the Observation Lounge as he entered, noting the familiar faces of the Enterprise's senior staff. Before taking his seat at the long, wooden conference table, Tyson felt compelled to express his gratitude to Captain Picard.

Striding over to where Picard stood reviewing a PADD, Tyson extended his thanks. "Captain, I wanted to thank you for dedicating time to my situation. After touring your vessel over the past day, I have an even greater appreciation for how busy you and your crew must be keeping this ship operating. The hospitality and accommodations have also been fantastic. You and Counselor Troi have my deepest gratitude for allowing me to experience life aboard the Enterprise."

Picard turned to Tyson and grasped his extended hand in a firm handshake, the faintest smile touching his lips. "You're quite welcome," he replied, in a warm yet professional tone.

Tyson's attention shifted to the man seated at Picard's right. Commander William Riker, the ship's First Officer. Tyson knew the value of making a good first impression, especially with the senior staff. Striding over to Riker, Tyson extended his hand. "Commander Riker, it's a pleasure to meet you in person," he began. "I've spent the last day touring the lower decks. They say you can learn a lot about a leader by how his people talk about him when he's not around. I didn't hear a negative word. Since I know you handle things like duty shifts and personnel assignments, that tells me you must be a stand-up guy."

Riker clasped Tyson's hand, his lips spreading in a wide smile. "The pleasure's mine," he replied, his tone warm and welcoming.

Tyson turned to the pale android officer next, "Lieutenant Commander Data," he began formally, "I was hoping to see you again on my tour, you weren't purposely avoiding me were you?"

Data cocked his head, "I was not. I performed my duties and then returned to my quarters. I was unaware you were looking for me. Why did you simply not ask the computer for my location?" he replied in his usual candid, literal way.

Tyson chuckled. He found Data's uncomplicated directness refreshing. "I was just kidding commander, but don't worry, we're gonna work on that," he promised warmly.

Tyson finally approached the last member of the senior staff who he hadn't encountered. He had yet to meet, Lieutenant Tasha Yar. He extended a hand in greeting, "We haven't been introduced yet, Lieutenant Yar, but it's an honor to meet you. I had a chance to briefly observe one of the self-defense classes being run in the gymnasium. I appreciate the opportunity to learn to protect oneself."

Tasha Yar firmly gripped his hand. She responded with a nod of approval. "It's good to hear the class is appreciated. But I hear that you're pretty good with a phaser," she remarked, hinting at Tyson's capabilities in velocity.

Tyson laughed, but before he could respond, Captain Picard stepped in, redirecting the focus of the room back to the purpose at hand. "It sounds like you had quite the day. Now that introductions are complete, please sit," he requested in a tone that was kind yet commanding, befitting the captain of the Federation's flagship.

Doctor Crusher stood at the head of the table, her serious demeanor drawing the officers' attention to the viewscreen behind her which displayed her last scan. "It appears that Tyson is half-Betazoid," she stated plainly, her words hanging over the room like a cloud of disbelief.

Picard leaned forward, forehead lined with incredulity and concern. "How is that possible?"

Crusher, usually so unflappable, could only shake her head helplessly. "I have no answers, Captain," she admitted, her customary confidence absent in the face of such mystery.

All eyes turned to Deanna Troi and Data, seeking any insight the pair could offer, but they too were at a loss. Data said nothing, his vast knowledge unable to compute any possible explanation. Deanna offered only a shrug, unable to provide any clarity regarding Tyson's origins.

Picard absorbed the room's uncertainty for a moment before speaking, his voice steady despite the unanswered questions. "Very well. Everyone, continue your investigations. In the meantime, let's discuss Mr. Tyson's future." A brief silence settled over the room. "The question now, is what next?" Picard began, his tone setting the stage for the significant decisions that lay ahead.

"I contacted Starfleet Command about your situation. There are people at the Daystrom Institute who would very much like to speak with you regarding your accounting of history," Picard explained calmly. "There is significant scientific and historical interest in what your experiences and knowledge of your specific timeline could offer the Federation's scholars."

Tyson felt the eyes of the entire room upon him. He knew his response would shape the course of his future in this universe. After a long moment, Tyson met Picard's patient stare. "I understand the interest in debriefing me on the history of my world," he began carefully. Picard raised an eyebrow, wordlessly inviting Tyson to continue. "With respect, Captain, I have lost everyone and everything I ever knew," Tyson said bluntly. "My family and friends are centuries gone and dimensions removed. I don't have any objections to speaking with those who have an academic interest in me, but I'm looking to my future and have no desire to spend my life as an anthropology case study."

Picard's expression was thoughtful as he absorbed the statement. He answered, "I can understand your perspective," he acknowledged. "Along that vein, I notified The Department of Temporal Investigations of your arrival. It is standard procedure for a captain to do so when any event occurs that may affect the stability of our timeline. Since you arrived in the present from the past, they have no issues with you at the moment. Though they might wish to speak with you at some point in the future. "

Tyson kept his face impassive as Captain Picard delivered the news. The Department of Temporal Investigations. Just the name was enough to conjure images of cold, stone-faced inquisitors who would no doubt grill him relentlessly for every detail of his unexpected trip through time. For now, it seemed, they were content to leave him be, but it was a small comfort.

Picard's tone turned cautious as he broached the subject of Tyson's legal status. "Additionally, your status as a Federation citizen is somewhat in question. While you were born on Earth, your birth predates the formation of the Federation itself. There should be no issues with you applying for full citizenship, but the application will still need to be officially submitted and approved." Picard clarified, "As captain of a starship, I have the authority to grant you asylum on board the Enterprise, nothing more." He folded his hands on the table. "In less than three months, the Enterprise is scheduled for maintenance at Starbase 74. From there, transportation could easily be arranged to the Daystrom Institute, or anywhere else in the Federation you wished to go, including Earth itself."

Tyson considered the captain's words. He had given some thought to what he wanted to do in this new universe he found himself in. He had a general grasp of where danger lurked and had a cursory knowledge of where to find items of great power or when he could capitalize on opportunities. He knew he could do some good here, maybe even save lives. But much of those opportunities hinged on him staying on the Enterprise. At least for now.

Decision made, he met Picard's eyes steadily. "Captain, I would like to formally request permission to remain aboard the Enterprise. To be frank, I have no wish to return to Earth."

One of the captain's eyebrows quirked upward. "Might I inquire as to your reasoning?"

"If there is a whole galaxy to explore, this ship seems the ideal place to do so from," Tyson explained earnestly. "I don't yet know where I will ultimately end up. But I do know that I want to aid the Federation in whatever way I can. I don't know the best way to do that yet. But I'm aware there are civilians aboard this vessel already, so my request should not be seen as extraordinary."

Picard considered him for a long moment before replying. "Request granted. For now, you may remain aboard the Enterprise as an asylum seeker. We will revisit the issue of your citizenship at a later date."

Relief swept through Tyson, though he was careful not to let it show. "Thank you, Captain. I appreciate the opportunity."

Picard gave a brisk nod. "Now..."

The captain's words died in his throat as Worf's urgent voice burst through the comms. "Captain and senior staff to the bridge."

The Enterprise's lighting dimmed, shifting to a cautious yellow alert, the klaxons sounding their warning and calling the crew to ready themselves. The senior staff made haste to the bridge. Tyson followed along in tow.

Upon entering, Picard's presence commanded the bridge, his stern gaze sweeping those present. "Report," he demanded succinctly. The senior staff hurried to their stations to replace the other officers.

Worf responded immediately, "Sir, a ship appeared starboard without warning. It was not detected approaching on long-range sensors. It seems to be trapped in some kind of spatial anomaly." His report was concise, but concern colored his normally stoic demeanor.

"On screen!" Picard commanded. The large viewscreen flickered to life, revealing the scene that had sparked the alert. An unremarkable cigar-shaped ship writhed within the swirling chaos of energy and matter. The anomaly danced wildly around it, pulling the craft ever closer to the event horizon and what could only be assumed as utter destruction.

The bridge of the USS Enterprise was tense as Data delivered his report in his characteristically stoic tone. "Sir, that ship is an Orion Tramp Freighter, commonly used to transport cargo and frequently slaves," he informed Picard succinctly.

The situation appeared dire, yet Tyson might have laughed if not for the gravity of it all. The notion of a slave transport vessel being dubbed a 'Tramp Freighter' seemed utterly ridiculous to him. Though he kept his humor contained, Tyson found the name to be darkly amusing. Orions were an interesting species, but he was reticent to encounter them, especially the females. Orion men were hulking brutes, but the females were secretly far more dangerous. The women were green-skinned but nearly universally appealing. They posed as slaves, and most of the galaxy saw them as such. However, the Orion females used this perception to their advantage. They possessed powerful pheromones that were used to influence others, particularly males.

Tyson's thoughts froze.

Tramp Freighter.

That was the name of the ship he should have acquired as a free Item from one of his Origins. A sinking feeling settled into his gut. This situation was probably the result of the Drawback that Q had promised in return for the information he'd provided.

Keen to keep Data on task, Picard pressed, "Their status, Mr. Data?"

"Sensors indicate their shields are down and warp engines are offline," Data continued evenly. "Their impulse engines are at full power but they are insufficient to escape the anomaly." His assessment painted a stark picture of a ship in dire straits.

Without hesitation, Picard issued a command. "Engage tractor beam." His decision was swift, aimed at preventing the Orion ship's destruction.

"Engaging Tractor beam," Worf responded immediately from his station.

Picard turned his attention to LaForge. "Analysis of that anomaly, Lieutenant?" he questioned.

"There are massive surges of gravitons and chronitons," LaForge replied. "I need time to analyze the sensor data fully." He glanced at the android. "Data?"

Data rose from the forward station, replaced seamlessly by a junior officer. He moved swiftly to a science station, fingers flying over the controls as he began rapidly processing the incoming information. Picard stood resolute on the Enterprise bridge, his gaze fixed on the viewscreen even as his mind raced through possibilities. The tractor beam's failure was troubling. There were lives at stake.

"Transporters?" he asked, eyes shifting to LaForge.

The engineer looked at Data, the android didn't hesitate. "There is a chance the confinement beam will penetrate the interference, but we would be limited to transporting single individuals at a time."

"Do it," Picard ordered without pause.

Data's fingers flew across the science station as he prepped the transporter, movements so rapid they blurred.

Then a harsh beep sounded, the sound was an undeniable alert of failure. Picard stiffened.

"The annular confinement beam was reflected back by the anomaly," Data reported with a perplexed note in his normally flat tone.

"Reflected?" Picard repeated in disbelief. "How is that possible?"

LaForge could only shake his head, the impossibility clear on his face. "It shouldn't be."

A collective unease rippled through the bridge as the crew grasped the enormity of the situation. This anomaly presented a puzzle that challenged their understanding of physics and space itself.

Counselor Troi voiced the critical question that had gone unasked. "Where was the beam reflected to?" Before the implications could be explored further, another harsh beep sounded, piercing the tense atmosphere.

It was an ominous warning.

Tyson was suddenly enveloped in the shimmering particles of a transporter beam. Drawing the attention of the bridge crew to his fading form. The unexpected and uninitiated transport caught everyone off-guard, including Tyson himself. The swirling energy cocooned him and within moments he dematerialized completely.

"Where did he go?" Picard demanded, urgency blending with authority in his voice.

Troi, whose Empathy had become entangled with Tyson's earlier, immediately knew his location. She announced, "He's on the Orion ship."

Picard turned to Troi, confused about how she could possibly know that. But Data confirmed in his characteristically flat tone. "Sensors indicate the Tramp Freighter now has forty-one life signs, sir. Forty Orion...and one Human-Betazoid male." The revelation connected Tyson's sudden disappearance to the vessel they had been striving to assist.

Picard's response was immediate. "Get him back!"

Data set to work. "Initiating transport," he announced, his fingers moving with mechanical precision over the console. The tension on the bridge was palpable, every crew member holding their breath in anticipation, their collective focus on the screen displaying the Orion Tramp Freighter caught in the grip of the spatial anomaly.

The situation escalated as the freighter, with Tyson presumably aboard, was inexorably pulled into the event horizon of the anomaly. The swirling maw of the anomaly seemed to consume the freighter, and then the anomaly itself vanished without a trace. A heavy silence enveloped the bridge as every eye remained fixed on the viewscreen, hoping against the odds for a sign of success.

After a tense pause, Data delivered the news they all dreaded. "Transport was unsuccessful." The finality in his voice, devoid of emotion, set a wave of despair sweeping through the crew.

Troi gasped. Her empathic nature had her acutely feeling the collective shock and sorrow that filled the bridge, further impacted by the disappearance of Tyson's empathic presence along with the freighter.

After a long moment of silence, Picard's voice cut through the heavy atmosphere. "Stand down from yellow alert," he commanded, his tone somber yet resolute and holding a tacit acknowledgment of the situation's gravity. "LaForge, Data, I need to know what happened. Detailed report as soon as you're able,"

"Yes, Sir," they both responded.

— Star Jumper —

Hours after the unsettling events on the bridge, Data and Geordi LaForge made their way to the captain's ready room to deliver their report. The ready room was Captain Jean-Luc Picard's personal space aboard the starship Enterprise, almost like his office. The room contained mementos from Picard's long career, including model starships and various alien artifacts collected during a life dedicated to exploration. Bookshelves lined with literature and historical texts reflected Picard's scholarly interests, while the large viewport offered a serene view of the stars streaking by, a constant reminder of the vast universe beyond.

Picard sat behind his desk, engrossed in a PADD's contents as Data and LaForge entered. His sturdy desk was neatly organized. As the two officers stepped inside, Picard looked up. He gestured towards the chairs opposite him, inviting them to make themselves comfortable. "At ease, gentlemen, please sit," he said.

Data and Geordi joined the Captain, it was Data who spoke first, beginning his report, "Captain, after extensive analysis of the sensor readings, we have determined that the anomaly encountered by the Orion Tramp Freighter and subsequently responsible for Mr. Tyson's unexpected transport, exhibits characteristics inconsistent with any previously encountered anomalies." His voice was devoid of inflection as he continued, "The anomaly's oscillating event horizon appears to have had a reflective property for certain energy wavelengths. Our transporter beam, upon encountering this reflective subspace boundary, was redirected rather than absorbed or dissipated as we would normally expect. This is a rare phenomenon known as a 'quantum backscatter effect.'"

Geordi leaned forward slightly, his tone emphasized the novelty of their discovery. "It's possible that the anomaly's instability was exacerbated by the freighter's impulse engines. Their emissions might have acted as a catalyst, precipitating the anomaly's collapse."

Data, picking up seamlessly from LaForge, "The anomaly's temporal and spatial fluctuations were indicative of a Cochrane distortion field, suggesting a tunneling effect through the fabric of spacetime."

Picard absorbed the flood of information, and asked for the sake of clarification, "Are you suggesting that anomaly was a wormhole?"

Geordi nodded in agreement, continuing, "Yes, captain, the inversion of the subspace detected around the anomaly, suggests an unstable wormhole."

Data continued the technical exposition. "I am in agreement with Lieutenant LaForge. The wormhole's aperture was stabilized by a dynamic subspace matrix, which seems to have interacted unpredictably with the impulse emissions. Then again with our transporter beam's annular confinement field, resulting in its collapse."

Picard nodded thoughtfully. "So, in essence, we encountered a wormhole that not only trapped the Orion freighter but also reflected our transporter beam, leading to Tyson's unintended transport onto the freighter. And that same transporter beam caused the anomaly to disperse. The question is, if that was a wormhole, where did it lead?"

Geordi, leaning forward slightly, added, "Unlike the Einstein-Rosen bridges that we're familiar with, this wormhole displayed a fluctuating subspace footprint. It's like it was phasing in and out of our dimensional plane, which isn't something we've encountered before. Plus the presence of graviton and chroniton particles in high concentrations complicate the possibilities."

Data finished, "Sir, it's impossible to know. If we follow the assumption that the wormhole did not collapse in on itself, and the Tramp Freighter was not crushed inside the wormhole as it collapsed. Then the freighter could have ended up anywhere, any time, and in any spatial location or dimension. There is no way to know or to track the wormhole's aperture."

Having carefully weighed the information provided by Geordi and Data, Picard pragmatically concluded that the erratic nature of the wormhole, paired with its volatility, rendered any attempt at tracking or recreating the anomaly not just futile, but dangerous. "Even if it were feasible," Picard stated, "I would not jeopardize the Enterprise or her crew by traveling into an unsteady wormhole, particularly not in pursuit of an individual who, however unfortunate his current circumstances may be, is neither a member of our crew nor even a native of our time or timeline." His tone, though determined, conveyed an undercurrent of regret. "I do hope Mr. Tyson survived, and if so, I wish him good fortune. I'll make a note in the ship's log and notify the Daystrom Institute and Department of Temporal Investigations that our visitor has moved on."

Shifting his focus to the immediate safety of the Enterprise and her crew, Picard issued his orders with clear authority. "Move the Enterprise farther from the anomaly's previous location. Continue scanning for any signs of its return. We'll stay in the system for one day, then proceed, to remain on schedule."

Looking at the two officers, Picard sought to address any outstanding concerns or reports. "Was there anything else?" The silence that followed signaled that all pressing matters had been addressed.

"Dismissed," he said, indicating the end of the meeting. As his officers exited the ready room, Picard returned to his PADD, redirecting his attention to the multitude of other duties requiring his notice.

— Star Jumper —

Tyson materialized suddenly on the bridge of the Orion ship, appearing in close proximity to one of the Orion women. Immediately he caused disarray among the frantically working crew. The Orions focused entirely on escaping the gravitational pull of the anomaly threatening to consume their vessel when Tyson's unexpected intrusion only added to their panic. He and the Orion woman he landed on scrambled to disentangle themselves, both surprised to find him on top of her as they regained their balance.

Amidst the efforts to stabilize the ship, one Orion's eyes glued to a sensor panel announced, "The Federation ship is attempting to transport again." The statement momentarily beaconed hope that rescue might be imminent.

Almost immediately, particles began swirling around Tyson in the shimmering hallmark of a transporter beam taking effect. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, it seemed he would be whisked away from the perilous situation back to the safety of the Federation starship. The particles danced in a whirlwind of light, enveloping him in their luminescent grasp. But just as quickly as they appeared, the particles faded.

Tyson remained on the Orion bridge.

As the vessel was pulled into the anomaly, the alarms continued their shrill cry, though the Orion ship had gone still. The violent tremors that had rattled through the vessel ceased as abruptly as they had begun, leaving an eerie tranquility in their wake.

A lone Orion male occupied the bridge alongside the females. To an outsider, his role may have seemed greater than it was. Especially as he was the one who spoke first. "Status report," barked the male, his deep voice booming through the tense stillness.

One of the women turned from her console, her curves barely contained by the tight fabric of her uniform. "All systems are stable for now, but the anomaly's effects remain unpredictable."

Tyson took advantage of the unexpected calm to survey his surroundings. The bridge was dark, save the control panels and sensor screens lining the walls, their displays flickering with data. The utilitarian aesthetics marked the Orion ship as one not built for comfort. The crew were predominantly Orion women, their distinctive green skin marking their species. They wore functional yet provocative attire that played to outsider assumptions about Orion culture.

Tyson found himself in a precarious situation, confined in close quarters with Orion women while affected by the Pon Farr. The damnable Q had stranded him here as some twisted joke. He needed to get away, and fast.

Though now an Augment, Tyson wasn't certain that he would be immune to Orion pheromones, especially with the Blood Fever Drawback. He wasn't about to risk finding out. The moment he realized where he was, Tyson held his breath. His lungs screamed for air but he fought the reflex to inhale. Grabbing at his belt, he grasped his helmet and slammed it over his head. He tapped the button on the belt to deploy the Spacesuit. Sleek silver expanded across his skin, connecting the helmet and belt. As the process completed, the helmet was flooded by the sweet, clean air of the suit's self-contained oxygen supply.

He hoped he hadn't already inhaled too much of the pheromones in those first breaths after materializing amidst the Orion women. But there was nothing to be done about that now except wait and see if his body's immune system protected him.

Tyson cursed Q for this predicament. Though he had to grudgingly admit… Q's timing had been masterful.

The Orion male's command echoed through the bridge. "Detain the human. He'll make a good slave or bargaining chip."

The Orion woman whom Tyson had collided with earlier moved toward him with lithe, predatory steps, the tight fabric of her uniform straining against her curves. Tyson took an instinctive step back. "We tried to help you," he protested. "Is this how you repay those who offer you aid?"

The Orion male dismissed Tyson's words with a casual arrogance, his pragmatism as cold as the void outside. "Might've repaid your kindness if you succeeded. But you didn't. Besides, what would we offer you? You humans don't use money." He shrugged, the gesture made clear that any concept of gratitude or debt meant nothing to him.

Tyson quickly surveyed the bridge, taking in the situation. Negotiation seemed futile against the Orions. He was outnumbered. Unlike the afflicted Vulcans, the Orions were thinking and cognizant. Simple tactics like kiting wouldn't get him out of this one. The bridge only held a single door. He could use it to access his Personal Reality, but to get there, he would have to fight his way through half the Orion crew first.

But Tyson wasn't unarmed. He still had his Laser Sword attached to his belt. He'd have yet to use the weapon, but between his Augment dexterity and reflexes, Master with your Hand, Duellist, and Best of the Best, Tyson should be able to dispatch the Orions arrayed against him. Tyson's smile grew feral. He really had stocked up on combat perks. That decision may have been overkill but outnumbered as he was, he couldn't blame his past self.

The Orion woman approached, her predatory gaze fixed on Tyson. Tyson weighed his options. In an effort to avoid slaughtering the entire bridge crew, Tyson tried something unorthodox.

"I demand trial by combat!" he declared, his voice ringing with defiance.

Tyson didn't know much about Orion culture, as it wasn't explored in Star Trek. But what he knew was that their culture was based around piracy and organized crime. He ventured that there might be some cultural equivalent to a trial by combat that he could invoke. Even if he was capable of it, defeating one Orion was preferable to defeating them all.

The Orion woman approaching him paused, uncertainty flickering across her face. Tyson allowed himself a small feeling of victory. His words had an impact. The Orion man's laughter cut through the tension. "Do we look like Klingons to you?" He jeered. "Not all aliens look alike, human."

Intrigued, one of the Orion women asked, "Did you request Barter by Combat?" Her question opened a door Tyson hadn't known existed.

Seizing the opportunity, Tyson pointed at her. "Yes! I requested Barter by Combat!" he agreed quickly, not missing a beat.

The Orions erupted into an animated debate, voices colliding as they considered Tyson's bold demand. "Can he even invoke Barter by Combat?" one questioned, highlighting potential cultural obstacles to his gambit.

Another Orion's uncertainty reflected the situation's novelty. "No non-Orion has ever requested Barter by Combat, certainly not a human male."

Yet a third Orion raised a practical consideration. "He does give off the sense of a Space Pirate. But it looks like he has nothing to barter. Barter by Combat requires something of value to exchange."

Seizing the moment, Tyson clarified his terms. "If I win, I want safe passage and accommodations." A simple yet significant request given the precariousness of his position.

Intrigued, an Orion pressed for stakes. "What will you give if you lose?"

Tyson's reply was a desperate gamble, "Willing servitude," he stated, offering himself as the wager in this high-stakes bet.

Murmurs grew louder as the Orions considered Tyson's bold offer. Willingness to submit to servitude if defeated was a major concession.

Tyson watched as one of the Orion women, exuding an aura of authority, stood and drew a slender, menacing dagger from her belt. She extended the weapon towards Tyson, the blade glinting ominously under the dim lighting of the bridge. "Choose your warrior," she commanded, her voice steady and imbued with the weight of tradition. The rest of the Orion women had gone silent when she stood up.

Grasping the significance of the moment, and the meaning of her statement, Tyson took the dagger firmly. Without hesitation, he declared, "I will fight for myself." He had no one on the Orion ship who would fight for him, and likely none that could match his physical prowess.

"I expected as much. Very well," the lead Orion responded with an evil smile. It seemed as if she had anticipated Tyson's choice like he had just fallen into her trap. Tyson guessed she must be the true leader, her decisive manner and the respect she commanded from the crew setting her apart... But her grin worried him.

As Tyson braced himself, expecting the male Orion to be his opponent, the lead female surprised him. Instead of the obvious choice, she produced another dagger, identical to the one given to Tyson.

She called out, "D'Lavina."

A slender, strikingly attractive Orion woman stepped forward to accept the challenge. D'Lavina embodied the exotic beauty often attributed to Orion women. Her form-fitting clothes accentuated her figure. This woman had curves rather than muscle. As D'Lavina took the dagger from the leader, her eyes locked onto Tyson's through his helmet. She was not the brute force he might have expected from the male Orion. Instead, she presented a different kind of threat, an alluring one.

The leader introduced a twist to the anticipated combat. "The dagger is symbolic," she declared, indicating that the ritual of combat allowed for more than just a simple knife fight. "Before the combat, there is a period allowed to equip yourself with weapons and armor of your choice. Do you wish to do so?"

D'Lavina's response was immediate and confident, "No. Just let me get a little more comfortable."

Dressed in what could only loosely be termed a uniform, D'Lavina's attire was more akin to a leather ensemble designed for agility and perhaps distraction, rather than conventional protection.

Tyson watched, almost spellbound, as D'Lavina began to disrobe before him and the gathered crowd. With deliberate, teasing movements, she reached up and uncinched the laces of her leather bustier. Maintaining eye contact with Tyson, she pulled the garment up and over her head in one smooth motion, the grace of it leaving Tyson momentarily distracted. But his alluring opponent did not stop there. With equal deliberation, she unbuckled the belt at her waist, letting it fall open. Gripping the waistband of her tight leather skirt, she shimmied them down over her hips, the material sliding slowly down the length of her legs to pool at her feet. Tyson found it impossible to look away from the mesmerizing display. D'Lavina now stood before him in nothing but her undergarments, utterly unashamed. Her body was toned and flawless, and she exuded a raw sensuality that Tyson found deeply stirring.

"Well?" D'Lavina purred, placing her hands on her hips as she held Tyson's gaze. "Shall we begin?"

Tyson's attention was utterly fixated on D'Lavina. He barely registered the leader's voice as she asked him a question, and didn't process her words in the slightest.

Turning her back to him, D'Lavina, dressed in only what could be described as skimpy lingerie, bent provocatively at the waist and untied the laces of her boots. She glanced coyly at Tyson over one shoulder, arching her back in an exaggerated manner that amplified the sexually charged atmosphere. Holding his gaze, she deliberately drew out the sensual display as she removed her boots.

When she finally spoke, D'Lavina's voice was laced with teasing innuendo. "You don't need anything else to fight me, do you?" she purred. "I'm sure you've got all the equipment you need to handle me."

Tyson wrestled with the decision at hand, realization dawning that her suggestive words likely related to the leader's previous question. But in his distracted state, focused intently on D'Lavina, he hadn't absorbed the leader's words. The rational part of Tyson's mind urged him to properly prepare for the impending combat. Yet as Tyson studied D'Lavina's slender frame, doubt crept in. She did not seem particularly formidable. The thought of engaging her in combat, matching his strength against hers, held a strange, tempting appeal that clouded his judgment. "I can handle her," Tyson mumbled under his breath, the decision made… or rather influenced by D'Lavina's overt sexuality and inviting words.

The leader's lips curled into a knowing grin in response to Tyson's declaration. "Very well," she said, her tone tinged with amusement.

The terms had been set, the combatants chosen, and the stage set for the Barter by Combat.

Tyson heard the leader's command to begin, but it seemed distant, and unimportant compared to the woman before him. When the battle commenced, D'Lavina deliberately placed her dagger on a nearby console. Tyson's gaze followed the curve of her hips as she shifted in a sensual display, baiting him. The rules of engagement faded from his mind, his focus narrowing to the beauty of his opponent. Though his brain warned caution, desire stirred recklessness within him. Tyson welcomed the temptation she offered. His blood heated with more than the thrill of the impending fight. Planning, tactics, and skill mattered little when primal instinct took over, subsumed by base urges.

"You can put that dagger down," D'Lavina purred, her voice like warm honey. "You don't need it when you have a sword." The suggestive words dripped with innuendo, and Tyson felt his grip on the dagger loosen. It slipped from his fingers to clatter loudly on the metal floor, the harsh sound did nothing to focus his attention on the 'battle' he was engaging in. D'Lavina had effortlessly stripped him of his weapon through nothing more than her beguiling presence.

Slowly, deliberately, D'Lavina raised one slender hand, crooking her finger in a sultry come-hither motion. The gesture was an alluring invitation, and though some distant part of Tyson's mind warned him, he found himself being drawn inexorably closer as if pulled by an invisible tether.

Though the Spacesuit protected Tyson from D'Lavina's pheromones, or so he thought, he could feel the Blood Fever taking hold of his mind and body. The nearer he drew to D'Lavina, the more ensnared he became. She wielded her allure like a weapon, and Tyson may have realized at some level, but he didn't care.

D'Lavina ran her hands across his chest, igniting a fire within him that was becoming increasingly difficult to resist. Her hands traced down his torso, reaching his belt. She tapped the button, retracting his Spacesuit.

Tyson reached up, of his own volition and removed the helmet, reattaching it to his belt. This close, her scent enveloped him fully. It was an exotic mélange of sweet and spicy notes, underpinned by an earthy musk that resonated within some primal part of him.

Leveraging the full power of her allure, D'Lavina rose up on her toes, warm breath tickling Tyson's ear as she whispered words that were both invitation and command. "I want you. You'll be mine. Just say the words. Tell me, tell them all, that you submit to me." Her voice was soft and sultry, each syllable laden with sensual promise if he would only surrender. Her proximity was like a drug, the temptation she offered was too powerful to resist.

Tyson's hand caressed D'Lavina's taut stomach, his fingers trailing upward to encircle her neck. His other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. A smile curved her full lips, an invitation for him to surrender to her advances. Yet, to her surprise, his grip tightened, the caress becoming a threat.

"You'll be mine," Tyson stated with certainty, his fingers constricting around her throat. The gesture went beyond teasing, a display of his strength that left D'Lavina at his mercy. His dominance should have been alarming, but the barest spark of arousal ignited within her as the roles reversed.

Tyson's grip tightened further, threatening to cut off her air supply and blood flow. The Orion woman's breath hitched as Tyson's strong fingers constricted around her slender throat. The gesture was no longer teasing. It was a raw display of his physical power, leaving D'Lavina completely at his mercy. To her surprise, the vulnerability ignited a faint spark of arousal within her. Their roles had reversed. Now she was the one ensnared in his grasp.

Tyson tightened his grip further with an implicit threat. D'Lavina found herself trapped, yet thrilled by his bold assertion of dominance over her. Leaning in close, his warm breath tickled her ear as he echoed her earlier sultry tone in a low rumble. "Tell them you submit to me. Give yourself to me."

A violent shudder rocked the ship before she could respond, interrupting their heated battle of wills. The unexpected impact jolted them, their focus instantly shifting as they braced themselves. Tyson relaxed his hold on her slender throat, whipping around to assess the source of the disturbance. D'Lavina gasped for breath, massaging her tender neck. The heady tension of moments before evaporated, replaced by wariness.

Suddenly, the deck plates beneath the Orions' feet bucked wildly as the Tramp Freighter resumed its earlier violent shudders. The Orions were hurled violently to the grated floor as the ship's convulsions tossed them about like rag dolls.

Tyson gritted his teeth, bracing his legs wide to keep his balance against the rolling deck. The ship's inertial dampeners were struggling and failing to compensate for the unpredictable turbulence. He spared a glance down at the cursing Orions, few were able to keep their footing, D'Lavina among them, but only because Tyson's steadying arm was still locked around her waist.

Though deep within a haze of lust, Tyson was able to retain his footing. The tremors that had calmed upon entering the anomaly now returned with a vengeance, rocking the ship with such force that some of the Orions were knocked unconscious. Others suffered broken bones or worse from the battering.

Those Orions still clinging to consciousness scrambled to reach their stations and regain some control over their battered ship. A woman's voice called out, "I think we're exiting the anomaly!" offering a faint hope that their ordeal might soon be at an end.

But that hope died quickly. The convulsions intensified, even more savage than before as if the ship thrashed to break free of the anomaly's grip in a desperate bid. The environmental systems were strained past their limits, and could no longer maintain artificial gravity or sustain the crew.

One by one, the ravaging forces overwhelmed them, their bodies surrendering to the darkness as they lost their battle to remain conscious. Floating and unable to brace himself, Tyson reached for the helmet at his belt hoping to engage the Spacesuit. But an unknown object blindsided him, crashing into the back of his head.

The bridge now held only still figures, the crew lost to the blackness that had claimed them.