“But you’re the first–”
“Don’t tell me what an honor it is! I believed all that, and I didn’t even try to say no when they told me I would get Enor. I didn’t even try to refuse,” she repeated bitterly.
Moll left the holosuite as Jadzia sadly watched her old friend leave. She never realized how disappointed Moll had been over joining with Enor. But then again, she had sent at least a dozen messages to Moll after hearing she had been accepted to Starfleet Academy, but Moll had always replied with only a few brief lines, resisting even a shadow of their former intimacy.
Another Risan, this one androgynous, approached Dax with a towel over one arm. “Would you like a massage?”
“Yes, thank you.” As they began walking toward the cabana, Dax said, “Maybe you can give me some advice. What do you do when a friend won’t let you help them?”
Moll knew she appeared extremely defensive, but she had to cross her arms to hold on to herself, to keep from shaking. She held her head high as the voice intoned, “Are there any final statements from the witnesses?”
So many of the Starfleet officers, as well as her cadet teammates, had already testified to her courage and skill. But Moll knew that wouldn’t satisfy the Commission. Jadzia had done her best to prove that an allegiance to Starfleet was not detrimental to the well‑being of the symbiont, pointing out the examples of Curzon Dax and herself. But the questioning had shifted to Moll’s psychological ambiguity over her symbiont, and no one could help her there.
“We have a request from Lieutenant Jadzia Dax,” the voice announced. “You wish to make a final statement?”
Dax’s image flickered on. She stood up to face the unseen Commissioners. “Yes, I have something to say. Your investigators have been very thorough in digging through Moll’s psychological motivations. And you’ve explored the issue of exactly how important the panspermia fossil is to the Trill. But you’ve forgotten the most important thing.”
Moll sat forward, wondering what Jadzia could possibly be talking about. She was incapable of forgetting anything.
“Moll is the first host for Enor. Her life will be the moral and ethical foundation for every succeeding host. For those of you who are joined, you know what I’m talking about.” Moll never remembered seeing Jadzia so serious. “The success of every symbiont relationship rests in part on the ability of the first host to establish a foundation that is both inclusive yet solid. That takes constant self‑questioning, and inevitably some doubt about one’s own choices. And I’ve never known anyone better at self‑examination than Moll.”
Jadzia paused to smile at her, and Moll Enor felt herself respond, relaxing in spite of herself. What Jadzia was saying felt right to her.
“Moll would never purposely endanger herself or her symbiont unless there was some overriding concern,” Dax insisted. “If she had turned away from the fossil, knowing as she does how important it is–not just to her or her people, but to everyone in this galaxy– thenyou would have good reason to judge her actions.”
“You question this entire hearing?” the voice asked.
“Yes! Being a first host is difficult; we all have the memories to prove it. We also know it’s those memories that are most comforting when we’re faced with difficult decisions.” Jadzia’s holo‑image stepped closer to Moll’s chair. “I envy Enor’s future hosts, because they’ll inherit a rich and varied lifetime of memories from Moll. And I recommend that you do nothing to interfere with her choices.”
The kneading fingers pressed into Moll Enor’s back, finding all the sore spots. She groaned in pleasure, twisting on the edge of pain.
“These guys are good,” she told Dax. “I’m glad you talked me into this.”
Dax murmured agreement as her own masseuse worked on her. Her eyes were closed and she looked almost indecently relaxed and happy. “Just consider it a reward for beating the Symbiosis Commission at their own game.”
“You beat them for me.” After a moment, Moll said, “Actually, it’s poetic justice, because it was your fault in the first place.”
“Myfault? What did I do?”
“You know very well that I went into Starfleet because of the way you raved about it at the Institute.” Their eyes met. “Then when I saw that asteroid, I knew I had to try to save it, because all I could hear was your voice inside my head, insisting it was a once‑in‑a‑lifetime find.”
“It is,” Dax agreed.
“Remember you told me about that class you took with Professor Galen? I wanted to hear him lecture so badly, but he didn’t teach my first two years at the Academy, then he was killed gathering DNA codes that proved his theory.”
“The message of peace from our ancient progenitors,” Dax remembered. “I think Starfleet finally convinced the Commission you have a serious talent in science.”
“I love astrophysics, but I don’t think I could take a steady diet of it like you do,” Moll Enor demurred.
“Good, I think you should go into command,” Dax agreed.
“Command?” Moll blurted out. “I’m terrible with people.”
“Nah, you just need to have some confidence in yourself,” Dax told her with a grin. “You’re a natural leader. Look how you got the other cadets to do exactly what you wanted so you could save that asteroid. Someone who can talk Cadet Mantegna into something would be foolish not to pursue a career in command.”
Chapter Six
“HEY, TITUS, UP HERE!” Jayme called out from the upper walkway. “What did you get for the summer?”
Hammon Titus tossed the assignment chip into the air and caught it with one hand. “Errand boy for the Federation Assembly.”
“Yeah?” Her voice went up in surprise and doubt. “Really?”
Titus clenched his teeth, still smiling. He couldn’t believe it either when he read the chip. All year he’d been stuck at the Academy while everyone else went off on exciting survival courses and temporary assignments onboard science ships or remote space stations. The furthest he’d been was New Berlin City on the Moon last summer while he was running the shuttle supply route. New Berlin City looked a lot like San Francisco without the bridge–not very exotic, if you asked him. He had talked to everyone he could about getting off Earth, including Admiral Leyton, but his requests kept coming back denied.
He slipped into galactic poli sci class, barely beating the bell. As he sat down, he realized everyone was shifting in their seats, talking in hushed, excited tones.
“We have a guest today, cadets,” Professor Tho announced. Titus sat up to see better, as Captain Jean Luc Picard entered the room.
The girl in the chair next to him muttered, “No way!” Everyone was on the edge of their seats to see the man who had beaten the Borg at Wolf 359 when thirty‑nine other Federation and Klingon starships were destroyed. Picard looked just like his holo‑image, especially the way he nodded to them and briefly smiled as he took the lectern.
“Professor Tho asked me if I could speak to you,” Picard began, his sonorous voice comfortably filling the room. “You all know of the recent developments between the Federation and Cardassian Empire, resulting in the establishment of the Demilitarized Zone a few months ago. Unfortunately, this necessitates the shifting of some of our colonies, as well as some of those of the Cardassians. The decision to formalize our borders has given rise to political and philosophical debates that will undoubtedly continue for centuries. . . .”
Titus felt his eyes glaze over. Looking around, he realized everyone, including Professor Tho, was entranced by Picard’s distinctive rhythmical cadence. There wasn’t a sound in the room.
“The Enterprise‑D shall depart tomorrow for Dorvan V to carry out the evacuation of the last of our colonists. Some of the Federation colonists have protested the treaty and are resisting recolonization, forming a protest group known as the Maquis. In the Academy newspaper this week, there is an insightful editorial on the rights of the Maquis, written by one of your fellow cadets, Harry Kim. Cadet Kim brings up some of the more germane questions we are faced with in this case, specifically, whether the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few–”