“Hijack the Enterprise because God told them to.”
“Exact—no. You're not thinking. . .”
“I am thinking.”
“Sybok is dangerous. The people he's with are dangerous.”
“They're our only chance.”
Lenara pinches the bridge of her nose. “I know. And so will Sybok. That's what worries me. I don't want you or our people any more indebted to these people than we already are. Who knows what kind of demands they'll make this time?”
–
Nine years after the Odan symbiont’s emergency joining to Commander William T. Riker revealed the Trill's joined nature to the Federation, much regarding symbiosis culture remains a mystery to offworlders. So much so that non-Trill must be briefed on specific taboos before marrying a joined Trill.
“Once I accepted Jadzia's proposal,” Ambassador Worf explains to me over subspace, “she informed me that were she to die, I would not be able to resume our relationship with Dax's next host, because to do so would be considered 'reassociation,' an act deemed most dishonorable amongst Trill.”
For the Trill, the purpose of symbiosis is the symbiont's accumulation of several lifetimes of experience through its hosts. As the vast majority of Trill and the Symbiosis Commission believe, reassociation threatens the diversity of the symbiont's experiences by returning to the spouse of a past host.
“They say we're just reliving the past,” Priyoon Kar says, holding the hand of Tsorka Ven—her spouse of two lifetimes. “I like to think that the act of reassociation is one of the most unique and rewarding experiences a host can leave their symbiont.”
Kar would know—two of her fourteen past hosts have reassociated.
“My third host, Kabraya, was a Gheryzanit. [Editor's note: a what?] Back in those times, we were still practicing many of our traditions that the Symbiosis Commission outlawed. In secret, of course. That's how I was able to remarry my first wife, Eura Pren. We had many happy years together, but when I died, I was joined with a Rylanit who couldn't fathom something as unnatural as reassociation. He reported Eura to the Symbiosis Commission.
“At that time, Trill wasn't warp-capable, so she was exiled to the fifth moon. Like a war criminal.
“She didn't last long there and when she died, Pren died with her.”
Pren was not the last symbiont to die in exile. While the Symbiosis Commission no longer transports reassociated Trills to the fifth moon for life, Trill society remains so hostile toward reassociation that Trill who choose to continue relationships from their former hosts have little choice but to leave the homeworld. Typically, the Symbiosis Commission will go to extreme lengths to recover a symbiont from a host who has died far from Trill, ensuring that the symbiont will live on in a new host. However, the Symbiosis Commission has made no such effort to prevent the deaths of symbionts joined to Trill banished for reassociation. Those symbionts are essentially blacklisted from being joined again—a death sentence.
–
T'Pring steeples her fingers just below her chin. “I cannot guarantee that Sybok is capable of what you ask of him.”
Ezri rests her chin on her fists. “If he doesn't deliver, then neither do we.”
T'Pring bows her head. “If you do not 'deliver,' then I shall make known the sentiments you harbor regarding the death of Jadzia Dax.”
“Actually, I don't think you will.”
T'Pring raises an eyebrow.
“I've had a little time to think about why exactly you'd blackmail me—of all people—into helping you fight a revolution on Vulcan. I don't have any skills you'd need, I have all the interplanetary influence of Lysia the jumja vendor. Why pick me when Kira is down the corridor brimming with revolutionary know-how and countless horrific secrets from the Occupation? Then I realized, you don't need me, you need who I will become.” Ezri leans back in her chair. “Once we win—and we will be winning—I'll be someone with at least a fair amount of influence. Someone you could use. But if we don't win—and we won't without your help—I'm useless to you. Just another staff officer with a worm in her belly.
“You need us to be successful. I need us to be successful. So let's cut the cloak-and-dagger, Romulan blackmail pekh and get down to business.”
T'Pring's head tilts fifteen degrees to the right. “Your logic is flawless.”
–
“Most humans aren't aware of how close Earth came to losing their Federation membership,” says Fareenik Vahl, a University of Trill legal scholar in exile. “I bring up the subject as a bit of trivia at cocktail parties, and my human companions almost always express total ignorance of Ulin Harik's fateful vacation to Northern California and how that very nearly spelled the end of Earth's membership in the Federation.
“During the legislative recess of spring 2289, Ulin Harik attempted to take a guided tour of the Winchester Mystery House. When she found that the tour would not accommodate her wheelchair, she filed an official complaint which resulted in the revelation that sites of historical significance are exempt from accessibility laws. A bit of a polemicist, Harik decided to confront this policy by filing a request for the revocation of Earth's Federation membership on the basis of anti-disability discrimination, which, like caste discrimination, is a legal barrier to Federation membership. The matter went to a vote, and by the word of the law, the Federation congress had little choice but to approve the request. The congressional chair—a human—granted Earth a sixty day amnesty period to correct the policy before the membership revocation would take effect. If not for that, Earth would no longer be a member of the Federation.” [Editor's note: while this is an interesting historical anecdote, it reads a little long.
Author's note: I'm trying to add color.
Editor's note: I know and you are, but I think the pace of Fareenik's story interrupts the forward thrust of your polemic.
Author's note: ….Kasidy, have you been reading my journalism books?]
At present, Trill abets a similar form of discrimination that Federation Artist Corpsmember Nulat Otner is all too familiar with.
“I put in an application for the initiate program right after I graduated,” says Otner, over subspace relay from Cardassia, where she is working with the Federation Artists Corps. “The Commission returned my application the next day with a big red stamp saying, 'Application doesn't merit consideration.'”
“Did they give you a reason why?” I ask.
“No, but I could guess why.”
Like 1 in 700 Trill, Nulat Otner has Gandres Syndrome, a developmental disability that stunts growth and impairs cognition. Objectively, it is difficult to determine whether or not this was the deciding factor in the Symbiosis Commission's dismissal of Otner's application. Without the data made publicly available by the Symbiosis Commission, it is also difficult to determine if the rejection of applicants based on disability is standard procedure. The veil of secrecy surrounding the Symbiosis Commission, the initiate program, and joinings in general, acts as a barrier to the kind of transparency expected of Federation institutions. While Starfleet Academy and the Vulcan seek annually publish admission statistics, which are reviewed by independent advocacy groups to safeguard for discrimination, similar data from the Trill initiate program remains private.
What exactly is the Symbiosis Commission hiding?
As it turns out, quite a lot.
–
Iruk Gatun trembles in front of Sybok, eyeing him with dilated pupils. Agreeing to see him took no small amount of bravery, but she's having trouble summoning it right this moment.
Ezri smiles at her. “You'll do fine. This won't hurt a bit.”
Iruk nods and squeezes her eyes shut, wincing. She jumps as Sybok cups her cheek, but it's over almost as soon as it began.
“She has potential,” Sybok says, taking away his hand.
“Good. That's great.” Ezri wraps an arm around the Iruk's shivering shoulders, guiding her away from Sybok and onto the couch, where Lenara presses a steaming cup of
herbal tea into her hand.
“Sometimes I forget why we're not exactly known for our bravery in the face of danger,” Ezri whispers into Lenara's ear as they walk back to Sybok' “testing area.” (In actuality: the kitchenette.)
“You can hardly blame us,” Lenara says. “With a parasite-based ecosystem, Trill was never the ideal breeding ground for a fight-or-flight instinct.”
“I'm not knocking it. I'd take isoboramine over adrenaline any day.”
“I'm ready for the next reading,” Sybok says.
“Good.” Ezri nods at the next Trill in line—a gangly adolescent on the station without his parents' permission—who steps forward, perspiring heavily. “Let's hope this one goes as well as the first.”
The ritual repeats: Galen Kivek closes his sweaty eyelids, Sybok cups his cheek, and. . . the tea kettle shatters into a thousand pieces, spraying the coffee table with ceramic shards and hot tea.
Sybok's hand flies from Galen's face as if scalded by his skin.
“What's wrong?” Lenara asks. She gets only heavy-breathing (from Sybok) and whimpering (from Galen) as a response.
T'Pring steps out of the corner where she'd been watching the proceedings, and says something in Vulcan.
“Pash-yel,” Sybok responds in a growl.
“Fascinating,” T'Pring says. “The boy is psi-negative.”
“So, he's not a telepath?” Lenara asks.
“No, he is psi-negative.”
“What does that mean?” Ezri asks. “I've been studying how brains work my entire life I've never heard someone be called, 'psi-negative.' 'Psi-null,' yes. But not psi-negative.”
“Understandably. Negative telepathy lies in the domain of history, not contemporary psychiatry. After today, I suppose the curriculum should be revised,” T'Pring says. “Since you know so much of telepathy already, the concept should not be difficult to explain. You know, for instance, that unspoken thoughts and emotions are transmitted across the psionic field like light through the electromagnetic field, and that telepaths are able to perceive those disruptions in the psionic field by transmitting a moldable signal that vibrates at the frequency of the psionic field, acting like a form of sonar. You know, then, that the psi-null are incapable of transmitting moldable signals into the field and thus cannot read the thoughts and emotions of others.
“Psi-negatives are likewise unable to perceive the thoughts and emotions of others, but, in contrast, because they transmit a signal that prevents the passage of telepaths' moldable signals through the psionic field, causing them instead to rebound on the telepath.”
“Hence the exploding tea kettle,” Ezri says.
“Exactly. Psi-negatives are incredibly irritating to telepaths, which is why the Vulcan species rid itself of negative telepathy before the age of Surak.”
“How?”
“We drowned the psi-negative children and murdered their families. Within twelve generations, the menace was eradicated.” Lenara grabs Galen by the shoulders, dragging him away from Sybok. “Until today, we were not aware psi-negatives existed in other species.”
“What does that mean?” Ezri asks. “Is he just an anomaly or does this tell us something about Trill?”
“I do not know.” T'Pring looks at Sybok. “We will have to try more tests.”
–
Deep in the Caves of Mak'ala, a group of telepathic Trill known as Guardians tend to the milky pools where symbionts breed and grow before being joined to a host. Guardians have held this sacred duty for as long as anyone can remember, living underground in almost total seclusion.
“My sister Chanu was accepted into the Guardian apprentice program when she was sixteen years old,” Avin Xostro, 82, recalls. “None of us were exactly surprised. Even growing up, we all knew that Chanu was different, that she had a gift. Still, my parents were extremely proud. Although, at the same time, they seemed. . . sad. As if they knew.” Xostro stares off into the distance. “But I suppose we all knew one way or another.”
He coughs.
“When she left for the program, we held this huge party, invited everyone we knew, and they all came, as if. . . as if to say goodbye. Not, 'I will see you soon' goodbye, but forever goodbye. Nobody asked when Chanu would be home to visit next. No one brought any gifts. I guess they knew she wouldn't be needing them. . . I tried to keep in touch with her over the years. A vidcall here, a letter there. Then one day she stopped answering my vidcalls. A few months later she stopped responding to my letters. My friends told me this was normal, that Chanu grew as reclusive as the other Guardians. But I kept writing. I never stopped.”
Xostro furrows his brow.
“For forty years, I wrote letters to a dead woman, and no one—no one. . .” He sobs. “I'm sorry. I can't.”
Chanu Xostro is one of many Guardians to sever contact with their families entirely unannounced after serving in the Caves of Mak'ala for decades. Like Avin, most family members believed this was the result of the reclusive nature of Guardian culture, but the recent death of a Guardian on Deep Space Nine suggests that the truth is far more sinister.
On the sixth day of the Bajoran month of Hikar, Timor Patrel arrived on Deep Space Nine via transport shuttle. He collapsed almost as soon as he walked on board. A day later, he was dead.
According to the station's acting chief medical officer, prolonged exposure to leurosulphine, a toxic chemical found solely in igneous rocks on the Trill homeworld, caused Timor's death. The Caves of Mak'ala, the place where Timor Patrel lived and worked for the past twenty-four years, are formed from igneous rock.
“The Caves are poison,” Ezri Dax says. “Being down there for so long is what killed him. And the Symbiosis Commission let it happen.”
“Are you certain?” I ask. “That's a very serious accusation to be lobbing.”
“I know, Jake. I was there. Audrid was there.” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “When Audrid Dax was head of the Commission, she ordered a study on the blight shortening the lifespans of the Guardians. The results found that long-term exposure to toxins in the Caves of Mak'ala was poisoning the Guardians to death. Audrid chose to keep that a secret, known only to the head of the Commission. Every Commissioner since her has decided to do the same, allowing countless Guardians to work themselves to death.”
“You've been joined to the Dax symbiont for over a year. Why go public with this information now?”
“Because I didn't remember until Timor came to the station; Audrid blocked the memories from the symbiont before she died. I guess she knew that if one of Dax's hosts found out, we would do something about it.”
“And you are.”
“I am.”
–
Broken objects litter the floor of the Vulcans' quarters, surrounding Sybok in a sea of glass shards and ripped fabric. He stands panting and baring his teeth like a wild sehlat on the hunt. The Trill cower appropriately in the corner.
Ezri lowers the PADD she was using to record results (and as a makeshift shield). “So, that was eight positives, zero nulls, and eight negatives?”
“Ha,” Sybok growls.
“Half-telepathic, half-not,” Ezri says. “That squares with what we know about half the Trill population being capable of joining.”
“After all we've seen,” Lenara says, “I can't say I'm surprised that the Symbiosis Commission is killing off the surplus population of Trill capable of joining by sticking them in the Caves of Mak'ala.”
Ezri shakes her head. “As frighteningly believable as that sounds, I don't think that's what's going on. When Jadzia and I entered Starfleet, we were both tested for telepathic abilities and both of us came up psi-null. We were tested again after being joined to Dax, and still null.”
“I would not trust Starfleet's opinion on your telepathic abilities,” T'Pring says. “There is much they do not know.”
Sybok stands up straight, wiping sweat from his brow. “And the telepaths they employ are little more than amateurs in the infancy of t
heir capabilities.”
“I'm sure your brother would be very pleased to hear that,” Ezri says.
“Spock is a Vulcan,” T'Pring says. “He is pleased with nothing but himself and his former crewmates.”
“Spock has greater emotional depth than you could ever conceive,” Sybok responds.
“Do not mistake emotional unavailability for depth.”
“Okay!” Ezri says. “Clearly we all have some unresolved issues regarding Spock, but can we push those to the side for a minute? We need to get a better handle on what these readings mean. I think the best way we can understand how psi-ratings work in unjoined Trill is to look at the psi-rating of a joined Trill. Since you don't find Starfleet's methods reliable, why don't you do a reading of me?”
“Very well,” Sybok says. He closes his eyes. The air crackles with static electricity. He smiles. “Starfleet was correct; Ezri Dax is psi-null.”
“Then that means none of the Trill we tested today can be joined,” Ezri says.
“I'm not finished. The symbiont Dax is psi-positive. The host Ezri is psi-negative. Together, they are psi-null.”
“One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other half,” she murmurs.
“Ezri?” Lenara asks, placing a hand on her lower back.
“That's what Timor told me before he died. I thought he was just babbling, but now. . . I think he was trying to tell me that half of all Trill can be joined and the other half are telepaths.”
–
In 2371, Jadzia Dax, Dr. Julian Bashir, and my father, Benjamin Sisko, travelled to the Trill homeworld to find treatment for Dax's lowered isoboramine levels. Days later, they returned to Deep Space Nine with Dax in good health and a secret that promised to rock the foundations of Trill society.
“Over the course of her treatment, we discovered that the Dax symbiont had been joined to a host between Torias and Curzon,” Dr. Bashir recalls over subspace. “The host, Joran, was kept a secret by the Symbiosis Commission—even from Dax—because Joran was a murderer and therefore did not fit the rigorous criteria set forth by the Symbiosis Commission's initiate program. His short but successful joining to the Dax symbiont proved that far more Trill are capable of being joined than the Symbiosis Commission purports.”
The Trail: A Star Trek Novel (New Frontier Reloaded Book 1) Page 17
