The BLTS Archive - Inheritors
Second in The Layover Stories 
by Blue Champage (rowan-shults@sbcglobal.net)

---

I am Blue Champagne.

I do not own these characters, the settings, or the background
information provided concerning past Trek episodes. I own the actions
taken and the dialogue spoken by these Paramount-owned characters in
these Paramount-owned settings.

Please do not print or post this story without this header.

---

Beverly pulled the deep-green meditation robe around her more securely
as she shoved her way to the stairs that led downward toward the bar.
The robe was full, heavy and plush textured, securely fastened in the
front, but the feeling of bugs crawling on her skin made her shudder
and wrap her arms around herself. That was NOT the program she'd
ordered! And that slimy barkeeper could just forget about getting any
payment for THAT disgusting little show. Orion slave dancers indeed--

She reached the bar, tucking loose strands of her smooth red hair
behind her ears, attempting some semblance of decorum. Not that it
mattered much in here; in the crush, people were doing--and
wearing--anything, everything and as close to nothing as made no
difference.

"I want to speak to the proprietor of this establishment at once," she
hissed, her blue eyes at white heat.

"Uhhh," the Ferengi she addressed replied eloquently. "He's busy right
now. Is there something I can help you with?"

"I STRONGLY doubt it! I ordered the Alturan relaxation program, and up
to a point, that was what I got--until the meditation chamber. I want
to speak to--what was the name--Quark. Immediately!"

"Oh. That. Brother! Broootherrr..." the attendant disappeared beyond a
curve of wall behind the bar.

She stood there fuming, a pillar of Highland fury, resisting all
attempts by other patrons to gain access to the bar where she stood.

"...and I don't think she liked your modification, brother," the first
attendant, presumably Quark's brother, was saying as the bar's owner
came back the same way his brother had disappeared, and he cut in
"Just let me take care of it, you get back to the other customers." He
stopped in front of Beverly. "A pleasure to speak to you again,
Commander. My brother says you wish to register a complaint."

"I wish to demand my credit back! Your program was falsely advertised
in the computer's selection listing."

"Falsely advertised? In what way? And I must advise you that the
policy at Quark's, clearly stated on the plaque above the door, is
that there are no refunds once--"

Beverly reached out and grabbed the Ferengi by the jacket buckle,
yanking him against the edge of the bar. "Look, you little--"

"Maybe I can help," came a well-modulated tone from next to her, and
Beverly turned her head to see a young woman, a Starfleet lieutenant--
--with a graceful pattern of fawn-colored spots across her brow,
temples, and down the sides of her neck. Beverly could only stare for
a moment.

"Let me guess, Quark," the Lieutenant said dryly. "The Alturan
meditation program? I told you that modification wasn't going to fly."

"It's worked out very well for most of my--"

"Quark, give her money back. It's not worth the stink a Lieutenant
Commander could raise with Benjamin." The young woman locked eyes with
Beverly for a moment, whispering "Let go of his jacket and give him
your credit chip."

Beverly let him drop with a thunk. "He still has it."

The lieutenant gave Quark a level look, the corner of her mouth
quirking up. "Quaaaark...." she said, her voice rising in a coaxing
scold.

The Ferengi sighed a blustery sigh, went to a terminal and rummaged
beneath it a moment, then reappeared with a credit chip, which he
handed it to Beverly. "Only for Starfleet personnel would I grant a--"

"You'd better check it," the lieutenant cut in, her voice still softly
modulated, barely higher than a whisper--somehow it carried, through
the general pandemonium.

Beverly did. The charge was there. "DAMN IT--"

The lieutenant plucked the chip out of her hand and handed it back to
Quark, who inserted it in the terminal, removed it and handed it back.
"You owe me for this, Dax."

"Actually, you owe me. I just made an absolute killing at Tongo." She
smiled sweetly as the barkeeper rolled his eyes.

"Females," he muttered. "Especially redheads. They'll be the ruin of
me. See Rom," he snapped, and hurried off through the bustle.

"Lieutenant Jadzia Dax," the woman said, extending her hand.

"Ah...Lieutenant Commander Beverly Crusher," Beverly said, releasing
her deathgrip on the robe to take the hand. "Thank you."

"No problem. Quark's okay once you get to know him, but he bears
watching until then. You'll want to go back up and get your uniform--"

"No, I wore the robe. Although I don't think I'll ever be able to
meditate in it again."

"You're a student of Alturan meditation practices?"

"I had plans to become one, but I think I'll skip it. That little
troll has managed to spoil the whole concept for me."

Dax laughed, almost inaudibly. "I'm sorry. It's just that that's what
our station first officer often calls him, too."

"I can see why. Well...thank you for helping me. I suppose I'd best go
change."

"Once you do," Dax said, stepping around someone in order to stay next
to Beverly, "maybe I could show you around. There are a lot of things
to do on the station, and I can make sure you aren't cheated again.
Quark's holosuites can be quite harmlessly entertaining if you--"

"No, thanks," Beverly said nervously. "That won't be necessary. Thank
you." She hurried away, away from the Starfleet officer with the pale,
soft skin with its fawn-brown mottling of interlocking, gracefully
shaped small spots.

---

Back in her quarters, she told herself she had simply been upset by
that revolting display in what was supposed to have been simply an
Alturan meditation chamber. She shoved the robe back in her replicator
for reclamation, and got back into her uniform. She could just skip
shore leave on this station, she decided.

She left her quarters, starting briskly for sickbay--and saw Deanna
coming up the hall the other way, a worried frown on her face.

Beverly ducked back around the corner until the counselor had passed,
then sighed and rubbed her forehead. THAT had been a particularly
childish act. Deanna didn't even know about any of this--but if she
had known, Beverly knew what she would say: Beverly was letting an
affair that had been over for years control her actions. And it was
true. If only that woman hadn't been a Trill...

The symbiont, she reminded herself. Trill went by the name of the
symbiont. Still, she had been rude, although she could blame it on the
upset she'd received in the holosuite...if she apologized to the
young--to Lieutenant Dax, who had only been trying to be helpful.

I am a grown-up, she told herself. I'd scold Wesley for being as
paranoid and unfair as I'm being. If things hadn't ended so painfully,
in such confusion and misunderstanding...

If I only hadn't had to perform the surgery myself...

---

"Lieutenant Dax?" said the Bajoran woman with hair a deeper, more
chestnut red than her own and bright, wide brown eyes. "She's off
duty. If it's important, I can locate her and have your call routed to
her. Who should we announce?"

"Lieutenant Commander Crusher. Beverly," she added. "And I'd like to
tender an apology. I wasn't as polite as I should have been when she
helped me get my credit back from your Mr. Quark--"

The woman grinned. "Say no more." She nodded to someone outside the
visual pickup, and the screen blanked to the Federation symbol for a
moment; then it relit, showing the Trill lieutenant's face--and bare
shoulders, spots and all. Beverly knew those spots traveled all the
way down her body, and she knew how sensitive they were to touch.

She forced her mind to the present task and said "I wanted to
apologize for my abruptness in Quark's. I was angry, and...feeling
foolish, after that ridiculous program. I just wanted to get away."

"I understand, and I should have just asked to call you later. I'd've
wanted to storm out of the place, too." She smiled, a slow, sincere
process that transformed her face from the serene expression of
intelligent attention she seemed to wear habitually to an
eye-sparkling, apple-cheeked impishness.

"Well." Beverly paused, clearing her throat. "That was all I wanted to
say. My apologies again--"

"Wait! My offer still stands. This aqueduct project is monumentally
tedious; I'd love to have someone to show around and entertain when
I'm off duty. Which I am right now, by the way."

"Yes, I...could tell. I'm...not sure..."

The other woman's brow creased. "There's something the matter? Of
course, if it's private, don't feel obligated to--"

"I...knew one of your people--a Trill, I mean--a couple of years ago;
an ambassador we were transporting to his meeting place. We had a
relationship, a--romantic relationship, and he...we--his host was
fatally injured. I'm the ship's CMO, and I had to...transfer
him--Odan--into the body of our first officer, and then into his new
host, Kareel. I'm afraid that I'm not very..."

"Oh, Beverly," the lieutenant said, her expression falling, "I'm so
sorry. That must have been horrible. I can see why Trill would make
you uncomfortable. You don't need to feel bad about this; I won't push
my company on you. Goodbye and good voyage, then--"

"No." Beverly didn't know what was making her say this, or what she
would do if the woman--the symbiont--agreed. "I wondered...I have some
questions about Trill that I wondered if you could answer for me.
Odan...he didn't even tell me he was a joined species until after he
was injured. I never..."

Dax frowned. "That was very unfair of him. It's true that once we're
joined, we don't even really think about it--it's our natural state of
being--but when we're dealing with another species, especially if
there's such a relationship involved--I can't apologize for him, I
suppose. . . look--would you like me to come aboard your ship? You've
had a rather difficult experience on the station here--"

"No. I don't--" want you here in the ship, she was thinking, but
managed to say instead "--want to let that one bad experience ruin my
whole visit here." 'WHAT is WRONG with me?' she thought, covering her
discomfort with a frozen-on smile.

"An excellent attitude." Dax beamed at her, and said "Come aboard by
transporter, and I'll meet you at the main pad. Would that be all
right?"

"That would be fine."

"How does half an hour sound? I need to shower and get some clothes
on."

Beverly got an image of the tall, slim woman with her spots exposed
all the way to her toes and coughed, then smiled to cover it. "That
will be fine."

"See you in a half-hour then. DS9 out."

"Enterprise out." The Federation logo flashed, and Beverly deactivated
the screen.

She stood silent a minute, then whispered to the empty room "What did
I just DO?"

---

She debated changing clothes, she debated speaking with Deanna--no,
the uniform was appropriate; and Deanna had looked tense and worried
as she made her way, judging by her direction, to her quarters. Simply
go, and--what was it Will said--damn the torpedoes.

As she materialized on the pad with a small carrysling, it wasn't
difficult to spot the Trill; she was taller than over half the people
in the room, taller even than Beverly, which was saying something.
Beverly was usually a good half head over other humanoid women; this
one, approaching her in flat boot heels, was big enough to make her
feel slight.

"Pardon the crush," the Trill said, handing her down from the platform
with impeccable courtesy. "Your ship being docked here, the traders
that come through...there's a lot of extra dealing being done, or at
least a lot of attempts at it. Practically every sort of vendor in the
sector has shown up."

"Yes," Beverly said, nodding. "But outside of a little shopping, I'd
prefer to avoid it."

"Then would you like to go to the Promenade levels? I can show you the
best shops for the things you're looking for, and--"

"I was wondering if we could go to your quarters. I don't want to be
rude, but I..." 'want to get this over with,' she thought, and was
amazed at her own rudeness, even if it hadn't been voiced. She was
also, she realized, uncommonly trepidatious.

"It's all right. I'm sure you have many questions; I would, too, in
your place. This way, to the habitat ring."

The Trill took Beverly's hand and wrapped it around her own forearm,
holding it there with her other hand. Especially as tall as they both
were, it gave them the physical continuity to get through the crowd
easily, but Beverly was still a bit taken aback. She laughed slightly,
and Dax glanced her way as they threaded--and sometimes barged--their
way through. "What's funny?" the Lieutenant asked, smiling.

"I've never been on another woman's arm before."

Dax looked down at their joined limbs, almost surprised. "Oh. . .
.Curzon--my last host--was always...he had some anachronistic
behaviors where women are concerned." She looked away, as if
disturbed.

"It doesn't bother me," Beverly said. "I was raised on a planet with a
few anachronistic behaviors retained by choice, at least when it came
to superficial social interaction."

"Well, I've been a man as often as a woman, so--" Jadzia broke off and
looked away as they got to the lift and stepped on. "That probably
wasn't the best thing to say."

"It's all right. I was being oversensitive before; please don't worry
about it. And you're certainly statuesque enough to bring it off."

"Trill don't run that large, as a general rule; most of us
are...thinner, slighter than I am. I was the largest person in my
graduating class," the Trill smiled as the lift stopped and they
disembarked. "I was so glad at the Academy that there were so many
tall races in the Federation."

Beverly laughed. "I was fairly tall myself, for human; with these
legs, I considered a career as a dancer." Unfortunately, this called
the Orion slave dancers to mind and she swiftly and decisively
dismissed that thought.

"Really? What sort of dancing?"

"Tap and jazz. Even after I made my choice and started at Starfleet
Medical, I continued studying. But during one stretch of my career, I
became known as the 'dancing doctor'. I swore that particular part of
my history would never get out again. An involuntary nickname can
be...aggravating."

"Yes," Dax said, stopping at a doorway, "I think I can sympathize with
that. Here we are." She touched a control and the door slid open.

The quarters were rather dark and close, but that feeling was
pervasive over the whole station. "Please sit down," she said. "Can I
get you anything? I thought I'd have a Tarkalean tea."

"That sounds good." Beverly sat on the couch, which sat across the
room from one of the portals. She looked out, wondering what it would
be like never to see the stars prisming; but then, they did get
daylight here sometimes, Bajor's primary shining through the filtered
ports, depending on the attitude and placement of the station in its
orbit around the wormhole.

Dax brought two steaming cups, handed one to Beverly, and set the
other on the nearby glass-topped table as she sat down herself. "So,"
she said, her calm, alert demeanor back in place. "What's your first
question?"

"At what age is the symbiont usually implanted in the host? What
happens to the humanoid Trill who don't receive a symbiont at once?
Like Kareel--she was very...to be blunt, she was rather blank. She had
no expression; she only said her name, and that she was to be host to
Odan. Do you become sentient only after--"

"Wait. Were you under the impression that all Trill are joined?"

Beverly blinked. "I...I don't know, I suppose I thought..."

"Being joined with a symbiont is an honor only a few Trill receive. We
endure rigorous--" she looked away and swallowed. "We are evaluated,
and tested, and evaluated again--only a few of us are even physically
capable of being joined, and of those, only the most worthy can hope
to be. Humanoid Trill far outnumber symbiont Trill."

Beverly stared. "You mean you...the hosts...it's something you desire,
work for? You're complete without the..." she paused. "Then...he
simply never...the only name he used with us--with me--was Odan."

"I met Kareel Odan once. She's wetland."

"She's. . . wetland?"

"The reason you keep looking at my forehead. Humanoid Trill are all
basically the same species, but some of us--maybe ten or fifteen
percent--are born with a minor holdover we call the wetland ridge. Our
evolutionary ancestors had a nasal channel that led to a protrusion--"
she touched her head. "An extra airway. As near as we can tell from
the fossil records, some of us stayed in the warmer, wetter areas
where we evolved slightly longer, and while ridged Trill are as
genetically evolved as the rest of us, the nasal channel was an aid in
their survival, whereas it didn't help the rest of us much, and so
wasn't selected for. My cousin on my mother's side is wetland; she
NEVER gets a rhinovirus that slows her down, because the cranial ridge
chambers never inflame, as near as we can tell. She can always get
some air where the rest of us would be abed, heads pounding."

"Oh. Yes, Odan did have anterior cranial features that you don't. It
wasn't a complete airway, though; no rhinoid openings of its own."

"No, as I said, it's only a remnant that shows up occasionally; Curzon
called it our version of human wisdom teeth�some of you have them,
some of you don't, but the ridge is far less common than wisdom teeth.
And those of us who do have it also have a genetically attendant blood
chemistry anomaly, and--"

"Odan. . . had a device. . . "

"That was probably a balancer. It makes things more comfortable for
both host and symbiont in terms of space for the symbiont to
reside--another difference wetland Trill who join the program have to
contend with. And the reason they sent Kareel--I don't know the
specific circumstances of her choosing, but I'd say they had a fairly
small pool of physically suitable candidates. Not many with that
characteristic enter the program, because of the possible health
risks. Kareel might have been a new initiate--"

"They couldn't have sent someone without that genetic characteristic?"

"Not under those circumstances. Transferring a symbiont from a Trill
with the ridge into one without requires special equipment, medicines,
and expertise, because of the symbiont's own metabolic changes from
being hosted by a wetland Trill."

"So. . . it might have been Kareel or no one."

"It's possible. I met her very briefly in the local activity
surrounding a board joining evaluation; she was warm, and
soft-spoken--I can see that Kareel may have been a very quiet person
with not much to say on her own behalf--but what you describe was an
emergency situation."

"I don't understand. Why would her personality..."

"Well, it's not so much her personality. . . it's possible she would
have been chosen, but she was very young, younger than I am, and I'm
one of the youngest. . . you see, each host is a link in a chain, a
vessel to contribute to the pool of experience accumulated by the
symbiont. It only makes sense that people who already are doing or
contributing, who have plans for their lives after they're joined, are
chosen. My past hosts have enriched me immeasurably; I have three
hundred years of life experience, many very different people, to call
on when I need answers, comfort..." She stopped, and took an elaborate
drink of her tea.

Beverly was silent a minute. Then she said "Apparently I have been
very much mistaken about many things. I wish Odan and I had had the
opportunity...by the time I knew, things were so difficult and
urgent--his mediational duties, keeping Will--our first officer, who
hosted him until Kareel arrived--alive and in the best health I
could...and then, when I transferred the symbiont to Kareel, and knew
that the man I had loved was there, inside this...being that lived in
this woman's abdominal cavity...he had described himSELF as being the
symbiont, and the body I saw as 'only' a host."

"That is the way we often think of it, those of us who are joined. The
survival of the symbiont is paramount, always. If I were to be
injured, I'd look up from the operating table at Julian--Dr. Bashir,
our CMO--and beg him to save Dax. Jadzia...is transitory. But that
makes it no less a joining, not a parasitic relationship."

"I didn't know it was a joining; I thought that changing hosts was
something that happened fairly often, and I didn't think I could live
with that. She...she smiled like he did, called me by the pet name he
had for me..." Beverly folded the fingers of her right hand over the
inside of the opposite wrist and was silent.

After a moment, Jadzia asked quietly "Would it have helped if Kareel
had been a man? Some people might find that too--"

"Not much. I just. . . I hadn't fallen in love with a woman named
Kareel, I fell in love with a man named Odan." She paused, then looked
up into Dax's eyes and said "How much of the person I'm talking to is
the young woman I'm looking at, and how much is that..." she looked
penetratingly at Jadzia's midsection.

Jadzia got up and went to one of the ports, leaning on it, looking
out. "I don't know that. No one could tell you that, not even
the...unjoined humanoid Trill who take care of the unjoined symbionts.
I...Jadzia, all of Jadzia, is here, but so are Lela and Tobin and
Emony...all of them. I'm still Jadzia, more Jadzia than any one of the
others, but I...HAVE them. I can't say whether I AM them. Not, I
suppose. Too much of the current host..." she shook her head, unable
to complete the thought adequately.

"Your...hosts...how long do they usually live?"

"Curzon, my last host, lived to be over one hundred Standard years.
Most of us, not quite that long."

"Then you really did mean lifetimes--entire lifetimes, and all the
memories of each...stored? Are the symbionts...simply storage devices
for memory engrams?"

Jadzia shot her a look, then said "Never say that on Trill; you'll
start a riot. I don't know; from your point of view, maybe that is all
they are. Or from my point of view, for that matter. But...people have
committed suicide because the board turned them down. It's beyond most
humanoid Trill's reach, but we all...think about it, take pride in it
if we or someone in our family is joined...I can't describe it to you,
what it's like as opposed to not being joined--but I can tell you that
it's worth all that."

Beverly was silent a few moments, then said "Odan was on his way to
mediate a very difficult and highly crucial peace talk. They would
accept only him as a mediator; the two factions believed it was his
father who was involved in the talks for their last treaty. They did
not know he was. . . a joined being. Our first officer, William Riker,
had to serve as the host for the talks, and it took some effort to
convince the representatives that--"

"You're probably wondering why the factions in question didn't know
Odan was joined, a dual being."

"That was going to be the focus of my next question, yes."

"Beverly, how did you react when you found out about Odan?"

Beverly set her tea down and said in a controlled voice, staring at
the tabletop, "That isn't fair. We had had a relationship that--''

"That's not in question. What I meant was that many people, many
entire cultures, react with. . . " the lieutenant was obviously
uncomfortable. ". . . with disgust to our way of existence--or at the
least, with a lack of understanding that severely impedes friendly
relations. Those of us who are joined can be very secretive about the
dual nature of our being when we're away from home--perhaps especially
those who must gain the trust of the people they work to help, to keep
anyone from thinking they don't necessarily know just who it is
they're dealing with. I was warned about such reactions by the
Initiate Board, since I'm in Starfleet; but so far I've been lucky
enough never to encounter that kind of prejudice."

Beverly looked up. "Is that supposed to make me want to apologize?"

"No, of course not. He should never have hidden his nature from you,
no matter how much he feared your rejection. You had a right to
know--"

"That isn't even the reason he gave me. I--think that I could have
understood that, maybe even accepted it. But all he said was that it
never occurred to him to tell me, that if I hadn't told him I was a
single entity, why should he be expected to have specifically
mentioned his being a joined entity? I didn't buy the argument; but in
light of what you've told me, I begin to understand why he tried to
convince me that that was the reason."

"Though being an arbitrator, you'd think Kiran Odan could have come up
with a better excuse than that. The only consolation I can give
you--and I know it's probably nothing you don't know--is that he must
have loved you very deeply. Trill almost never become involved outside
our own species; even the unjoined of us have difficulty making others
understand our way of living, of existing. And how much we cherish
it."

Beverly's eyes were moist, her alabaster cheeks aflame with color. She
said quietly "I know that Odan loved me. Kareel Odan loved me, she
told me so. But I couldn't just..."

"Of course you couldn't," Dax said, sitting down next to her again.
"Even one of our people probably wouldn't."

"But--if you're in a relationship with someone, and their host dies. .
. do you try to form a relationship with the symbiont in the new host?
You said that the host was as much a part of the entity as all the
memories of the symbiont put together. And yet. . . if all the
previous host's memories are there..."

Jadzia looked away. "We have a custom--a custom that has the force of
law--against reassociating with past--it's complicated. You see, it's
primarily the symbionts are who must not reassociate with each other
from host to host. That would invalidate the whole point of changing
hosts, accumulating experiences and history. It'd simply be an endless
replay, an eternal extension of the same life.

"But Kareel Odan could have. . . continued your relationship. It is
generally accepted that a symbiont will not continue to associate with
the family of its last host--marry its own widow, as it were--and
usually, the survivors in question wouldn't want it anyway; it is a
joining, and while the memories of their loved one may be there, it is
not the same person. That can be far more painful than never meeting
the symbiont again at all.

"But some friendships with the unjoined, particularly with those of
different species, are permitted to continue. Benjamin Sisko, the
Commander of the station here, was a friend of Curzon Dax's. Benjamin
almost always calls me 'old man.' And it's all right for him to
continue to be my friend, my best friend, because he isn't even Trill,
much less joined to a symbiont. If you had desired it. . . she WAS a
new host. There is no guarantee you would have loved her as you loved
Kiran. Your relationship would have changed for that reason. But if
Kiran Odan loved you enough for Kareel to seek you out after she
received the symbiont--"

"I don't--please. I understand. But I--I did, I tried. . . I talked to
my friend Deanna, our ship's counselor, about it, and she advised me.
. . to accept his love, while he was in the body of our first officer,
a man I think of almost as a brother. I suppose being Betazoid, she
could feel that he still loved me, even while Will was hosting him."
Beverly suddenly laughed, raising her face and shaking her head.
"She's directly responsible for my decision to sleep with Odan when
Will was hosting him, and she and Will used to be lovers!"

"She sounds like a very good friend."

"I've never had a better." Beverly sighed. "I think she knew more than
she let on about Trill; I think she saw it as being an area beyond
her. . . her duty to repair. She must know more about Trill than I,
but she didn't--" Beverly stopped. "I don't think I wanted her to
discuss it with me, and she'd have known something like that. Her way.
. . is to draw people in with her availablity and lack of judgment,
not go telling people things quote 'for their own good' unquote."

"And subtle. She must be good at what she does."

"She is. . . but I--couldn't tell...Will, it seems, wasn't really
joined to the symbiont the way your people are."

"I'm not a host transfer specialist, but I think that would be
impossible."

"So he served as a vessel. A willing vessel, of course, but when I
interacted with him. . . all I could find in his manner--if not his
body--was Odan. Whom I knew as...Kiran."

She paused. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. It's certainly not my intention to
try to make you an apologist for your whole species."

Dax smiled one of those small, almost secretive smiles she seemed
prone to, different from the smile that made her eyes sparkle like
glowing crystals. "If I can help understanding, where one of my kind
has stumbled. . . I consider it time very well spent." She paused, and
said "You should understand this; Kareel will live with what Odan did
to you forever, and so will all Odan's future hosts. What you had to
go through will not be forgotten while the Odan symbiont lives."

Which could be for a very long time, apparently."

"Yes, it could. As I said, the Dax symbiont has lived three hundred
years; I'm the seventh host."

"Your lifespans. . . you aren't joined until you're adult, then?"

In the history of my people, no child has ever been joined to a
symbiont. It's far too important a decision for a child to have the
experience to make, and there's no changing one's mind after the fact.
About ninety hours after a joining occurs, the host cannot live
without the presence of the symbiont."

"I see." Beverly picked up her cooling tea and took a drink of it,
gave it a startled look, and Jadzia said "Let me get you a warm cup."
She took the tea from Beverly's hand and went to the replicator.

She came back with the warm cup. Beverly took a swallow and said
"Thanks."

"No problem." They were quiet a moment, and Jadzia said "You seem
tired. Would you like. . . "

"I. . . would like some time to digest what we've discussed. But I
would like to treat you to dinner, small favor though it may be,
perhaps tomorrow evening, somewhere you enjoy here. If there is
anywhere you enjoy here."

Jadzia laughed softly, once again turning her face and lowering her
head a touch, as though to forestall any unseemly outbursts. "I think
I'll take you up on that. I'm off duty at sixteen hundred tomorrow.
Shall I meet you at the pad?"

"That will be fine." She downed the rest of the hot drink and stood,
paused an awkward moment, and extended her hand. Jadzia took it, then
covered it with her own free one. "I'm glad to be able to help,
Beverly. I want you to know that. I don't feel like an apologist."

"I'm glad to hear it." Their handclasp held a beat longer than
necessary, then Beverly dropped her hand and Jadzia released it at
once, conducting Beverly to the door with a hand on her arm. "Shall I
walk you back to the pad?"

"That won't be necessary. I don't expect to have any trouble."

"You don't seem like the kind of woman to tolerate much in the way of
trouble."

"You may find that to be true. That cheat of a Ferengi certainly did."

"No, Quark won't forget you for a while." The lightened tone of the
conversation was forced, of course, but still a welcome relief to them
both.

---

"What should I say to her, Benjamin? How can I defend Kiran Odan after
what was just revealed about Curzon?"

"Does she know anything about your hearing?"

"Only what she may hear as scuttlebutt. But it was over only a couple
of weeks ago, and even though only a few people know the facts, it
won't keep the general populace from talking. Nothing stays a secret
on this station.''

"They aren't talking that much, old man. Everyone knows it was your
last host, not you, for whom the hearing was held, they know your last
host was exonerated--and I'm doing my best to keep them from finding
out what his alibi was."

"I wish a little that Julian hadn't been part of the proceedings."

Benjamin smiled, saying in the lowest registers of his resonant
baritone, "I doubt THAT one will do a thing to damage his chances with
you."

"There's that." Jadzia sighed and accepted the glass he handed her on
his way past her chair from the replicator in his quarters. "Thanks."

"Is there any reason," he wondered, situating himself comfortably on
the sofa, "that you need to justify Kiran Odan's actions? Is there
even any particular reason you need to socialize with this--what was
the name, Doctor Crusher--at all, if it's disturbing you so
profoundly?"

"I think it's because it is disturbing me so profoundly. Curzon loved
Enina--and it's obvious that Kiran loved Doctor Crusher. I can't walk
away from her. I feel like I--''

"Like you owe it to her?"

"Like I can make up for Curzon's indiscretion in some way. I know it's
not logical, but I think it. . . may help ME. But I don't know how to
approach it. Do you remember what Curzon used to do, at any party or
official function, when the guests were moving to a new location, in
or outside, to a different room. . . ?"

Benjamin grinned. "He'd walk right up to the prettiest woman in the
room and offer her his arm. It didn't matter if--''

Jadzia stared levelly at him until he noticed.

Benjamin's drink stopped halfway to his face. "You--did you do it
intention--of course not, forget I said that. But have you. . . done
anything like it before? Did it feel like Curzon when you did it? Or
did you notice at all, was it more like a reflex?"

"It felt like me, I thought about reaching for her hand and putting it
on my arm. I just don't know where the impulse came from. I don't
think that I'm trying to relive Curzon's life, do it any differently
than he did, but. . . I think Curzon might be trying to tell me
something."

"It sounds to me like he's telling you two things."

"And what might those be?"

"That you *do* need to take this woman under your wing a bit about her
affair with Kiran Odan, and. . . that maybe you find her a little bit
attractive." He sipped his drink, a half-smile on his face, as she
contemplated his interpretation.

She took a swallow of her own drink. "I do find her attractive,
Benjamin. When I first saw her, she had Quark by his jacket buckle and
was holding him up against the bar with one arm, demanding her credit
back."

"She sounds like a scrapper."

"No, not at all. She's. . . tall, and pale, with red hair and. . . an
impression of. . . I don't know. She's. . . regal, in a way."

"A regal who'd hold Quark against his own bar by his jacket must be
something to see." Benjamin grinned, toasting an imaginary personage
before taking another sip from his glass.

"Oh, Benjamin, this isn't funny. I don't know what to do. Maybe
she'll. . . maybe I'll make things worse."

"And maybe you'll wind up liking her a little more than you wanted
to."

"I already like her. Her name is Beverly, by the way. She's a dancer.
Tap and jazz, she said."

"A jazz dancer!" Benjamin grinned. "I have *got* to *meet* this
woman!"

"She said she didn't like that part of her life talked about. But you
see what I mean--she's. . . no one that I can just pat on the arm and
tell that everything's okay."

"No. I can see that. " Benjamin looked thoughtful. "Maybe you ought to
let her set the tone. She may know very little about Trill, but she
knows what she experienced, and what she needs.''

"What if what she needs is to flay me alive?"

"It's up to you, old man. Do whatever you feel comfortable with."

"I came here for a drink and some advice," Jadzia muttered. "Thanks
for the drink."

"Anytime."

---

"So what do you think?" Beverly asked as Jean-Luc handed her a
steaming cup. "Thanks."

"I think you do owe it to yourself to find out a little more about the
Trill species, since it turns out many of your assumptions were in
error. But whether you do it through research or interaction with this
young woman--what was her name? Lieutenant Dax--is a different
question. If you find yourself that uncomfortable. . . perhaps that's
something you need to examine as well. After all, aside from the
spots, does she resemble Kiran Odan at all?" He sat down a comfortable
distance from her on the sofa in his quarters.

"No, but she reminds me a little of Kareel, which I think may be
worse."

"Simply because Kareel Odan is the only other female Trill you've
met?"

"I don't know. Maybe. They are about the same age."

"Perhaps if you could be more specific about the difficulty you're
having with this decision. . . "

"I wonder about my motives," Beverly said in a rush.

"Your motives."

"Yes."

"What could possibly be wrong with curiosity about the race of a man
you once loved?"

"I think. . . I'm also a little curious about Jadzia. Lieutenant Dax,
that's her name. Is it really. . . right to examine someone like a bug
under glass?"

"You said she seemed enthusiastic about your acquaintance; that she
said she was eager to help you understand her species better."

Beverly sipped her tea and thought. "I suppose I'm also concerned
about dredging up the memories. It was such a. . . shocking
experience. It's taken me years to be able to examine it at all."

"Well, it sounds to me as if you've met the perfect person to help you
do so, if that's your wish."

She was quiet a moment at that, then said "On the surface, you're
absolutely right. But I still feel that something's happening that. .
. I not only can't control, I can't understand."

"It's only natural for you to be uneasy at a time like this. I'm not
Deanna, I shouldn't casually hand out psychiatric advice. . . "

"If I were talking to Deanna, I'd be doing it as a friend, anyway, not
a patient. You might as well go ahead."

"I think you should let her help you. You describe her as soft-spoken,
polite, even self-effacing. You could hardly find someone who'd make
you feel any less threatened."

"Good point." She stood up. "Thank you for the tea and advice,
Jean-Luc. I'd better get to bed. I'm meeting her for dinner tomorrow.
I'll let you know how it goes."

"Pleasantly, I'd predict."

"Thanks. I needed that."

---

Beverly sat down at her office desk and touched the screen to receive
the call the bridge had just told her she had coming in.

Jadzia's face, unsurprisingly, appeared. "Hello, '' Beverly said,
smiling. "Is there a problem with tonight?"

"Sort of. All the restaurants that use natural food are packed to the
walls, because the replicators are having an especially bad day. In
some sections they've been shut off completely. I thought you might
want me to come aboard instead."

"Oh. Yes, certainly, that would be fine. Are you off duty?"

"Not quite. Another hour or so."

"Then I'll find out what transporter room you'll be beaming into and
meet you there in two hours. Will that be all right?"

Jadzia smiled with what seemed like unwarranted relief. "That'll be
fine. I'll see you in two hours. DS9 out."

As she returned to her duties�mostly routine maintenance on the
deskwork�she reflected that the replicators on the station must be
pretty badly off to worry Jadzia so much.

Once again, she debated changing clothes, and once again she decided
her uniform was just the thing. She checked to find out which
transporter room Jadzia was scheduled to arrive in, and headed that
way. Then she had to turn around and go back to take off her sickbay
smock and leave it in her office.

As she walked quickly down the corridor, she realized she was
nervously smoothing and readjusting her hair and uniform, and made
herself quit.

She smiled briefly at the transporter operator and faced the pad;
someone, presumably Jadzia, was already materializing. Sure enough.
She was in uniform, too.

"I'd offer you my arm," Beverly smiled, "but there isn't much of a
crowd to warrant it."

"That's all right. I can find my way." Jadzia stepped down, smiling
back. "Where are we off to?"

"A place called--'' she stopped. "To my quarters. I thought since some
of the questions I was asking might be. . . " she realized she sounded
apologetic.

Jadzia hastily reassured her "That's a good thought. Your quarters
would be nice, really."

"Well. This way, then."

They were silent for the first part of the walk, and Beverly wondered
if her causeless nerves were showing. Causeless, she thought, they're
not causeless, I just think the cause is ridiculous. "How's the
aqueduct project coming?"

"About like you'd expect. We're really just establishing the specifics
of the situation, finding out exactly what we have to work with.
You're lucky; your contaminant analysis was over in a few hours."

"You'll have to redo those analyses almost every time you finish an
aspect of the reconstruction," Beverly agreed sympathetically. "But at
least it does only take a few hours." 'I'm such a wit,' Beverly
thought dourly as she touched her door control. "Here we are." She
gestured to the couch. "Have a seat. Tarkalean tea?"

"That sounds good."

Beverly brought her the tea, saying "I'll have the table set and
dinner ready in a few minutes. What's your pleasure?"

Jadzia smiled, and said "I don't suppose you have a taste for Klingon
cuisine?"

Beverly blinked. "Not really."

"That's all right, I wasn't expecting you to." She thought. "I'll let
you decide on the menu. Most of what I know about human food concerns
Cajun, Creole and the like; from our station Commander. His father is
a chef in New Orleans."

Beverly raised her eyebrows. "Your Commander sounds like an
interesting man."

Jadzia chuckled. "He said the same thing about you when I told him you
were a jazz dancer."

Beverly froze on the way to the replicator, and Jadzia hastily added
"Don't worry. He'll be discreet."

"Good," Beverly muttered, and started on the place settings and the
food. Being in a pasta sort of mood, she selected one of Geordi's
favorites, fungili. She gave the computer a free hand with the spicing
of the sauce and suchlike, instructing it only to keep it below the
three-alarm level when it asked for that specific, in more formal
language, in the menu.

"All set," she said, and Jadzia set her teacup down and came to the
table.

"Very nice," the Trill appraised, smiling; Beverly had chosen a
crystal-and-silver setting, with a single white rose in a budvase as a
centerpiece. She had started to replicate two candles and silver
candlesticks, then wondered what the hell was getting into her tonight
and went for the flower.

As they sat, Beverly warned "I let the computer have a free hand, so
to speak, with a lot of this. The way our chief engineer prepares it,
it's very good; but I've never tried to do it myself before."

"What is it?" Jadzia asked, sticking a fork into the mass on her plate
and sniffing the steaming substance appreciatively.

"It's called fungili," Beverly said, "and it's an Italian dish, from
Earth. Hmm." She'd taken a bite, and while it was still a little hot,
it was definitely tasty. "Not bad, if I say so myself. Which I suppose
I can, since the computer made all the relevant choices. The
breadsticks are a traditional accompaniment."

"Starch as an accompaniment for starch?"

"With Italian food, there's never enough starch. Or olive oil. That's
one reason it's so popular."

Jadzia grinned and dug into her food; Beverly had intended to be
politely conversational during this part of the evening, but found
herself shoveling it in almost to the total exclusion of speech. She
asked Jadzia to pass the wine bottle once, but that was it. Jadzia
herself just ate, making the occasional noise of appreciation.

They killed the food, and the wine, completely. When Beverly sat back
and wiped her mouth, she noticed Jadzia had the same sated expression
she was probably wearing herself, and Jadzia noticed it too, and they
both broke into giggles.

"I don't know about you," the lieutenant said, "but I feel more
relaxed now."

"So do I," grinned Beverly, making sure there was no sauce on her face
before she folded her napkin and set it on her plate. "There should
have been salads, too--with an olive oil-based dressing--but I didn't
think of it."

"It wouldn't have added much to the therapeutic aspect of this meal
anyway," Jadzia pointed out, and Beverly laughed again. Then she
sighed and got up. "Let me load up the replicator and I'll be over
with some. . . do you drink coffee at this hour?"

"How about Irish coffee?"

"That sounds even better. Make yourself comfortable; this will barely
take a minute."

She crammed everything back into the replicator with enough care not
to drop anything and touched the reclamation control, then ordered two
Irish coffees. She took the steaming cups over toward the couch and
handed one to Jadzia, then sat down in the chair near the end of the
couch. "Oh. I'm afraid I'm a bit overfull."

"Same here. It was worth it, though." They both sipped at the fiery
drinks, then sat quietly for a moment.

"Your spots," Beverly suddenly found herself saying, and then cursed
internally. Jadzia probably got questions about her spots all the
time.

"Yes," the lieutenant smiled, "they go all the way down."

"I knew that, actually."

"Oh. Yes, of course you would. Sorry."

"No, it's...what I wondered was. . . this is rather personal, now that
I finally bother to stop and think about it."

"Go ahead. I was expecting personal questions."

"Are they. . . Odan's--Kiran's--spots were. . . more sensitive than
the rest of his skin. Is that true of all of you?"

"All Trill or all of my skin? Sorry, I couldn't resist. It's. . . to a
degree it's true of all of us, but it depends on the situation.
Anytime our capillaries become very dilated--you understand, steam
rooms, um. . . that sort of thing. They become sensitized then.
They're not that sensitive all the time, or we'd have to go naked.
Also, if we have allergies to anything, they're the first part of us
to itch. Fortunately I have only one easily avoidable food
allergy--eichaberries. Their juice is a popular breakfast drink on
Trill."

Beverly nodded, absorbing this. "And the spots are only differentiated
from the rest of your skin by those qualities and the pigment, or are
they ever raised?"

"Not usually; if they become permanently raised it's generally the
result of some kind of inflammation, a sort of scarring. Or an
allergy, like I said, will do it. They can become raised from. . . the
other sensitizing factors I mentioned, but that varies with the
individual." Jadzia looked a bit pink, and Beverly wondered if it was
the line of the conversation or the Irish coffee, or any combination
thereof.

"If you're uncomfortable. . . "

"No. I'm fine. I think you're the one who's uncomfortable."

"I was." She stopped, startled, and looked up to see Jadzia's level
gaze on her, calm, open, receptive.

Beverly began again. "I mentioned to my friend Jean-Luc--our captain,
Jean-Luc Picard--that I wasn't sure what my motives were. Maybe I'm
still not sure. I've. . . it's taken me a long time to be able to
think clearly about Odan and what happened between us. I think I'm
starting to lose some of that clarity."

"Would it help if I told you I wasn't sure my own motives aren't
questionable?"

"That depends; what do you mean, exactly?"

"A couple of weeks ago, there was a hearing held as to whether I
should be extradited for the actions allegedly committed by my last
host. Curzon was charged with murder, and the murdered man's son
wanted me to pay the price."

"Which was?"

"Standing trial on his home planet for Curzon's charge, and receiving
any sentence that was passed on him, which in this case would have
been death."

"My God." Beverly sat up straight. "What happened?"

"Benjamin became very annoyed with me for refusing to defend myself,
or explain all of what had happened to him so that he could defend me.
. . "

"I can see why."

"But you see. . . I suppose that if I'm going to tell this to anyone,
telling you makes the most sense--you're not part of the station
gossip circuit, and if there was ever a good reason to talk about it.
. . " she sighed, and continued. "I couldn't defend myself because it
would have meant betraying someone. The murdered man was a famous
general, a war hero, and his wife is still a public figure. . . "

"His wife."

"Yes. Enina. Curzon. . . was having an affair with her. And he
couldn't have committed the crime because at the time that it took
place, he was in bed with her."

Beverly was speechless. After a moment, Jadzia continued. "I suppose
that if Enina hadn't come forward and told the truth to the arbiter, I
would have. . . been extradited for trial, and the issue of whether
the symbiont IS the host would have been settled for that place and
that time, one way or another."

"But. . . as old as your last host was when he died. . . you probably
weren't even born when the crime was committed."

"No, I wasn't. But I carry the memories of the man who. . . behaved
shamefully with another man's wife. I couldn't help but have feelings
of responsibility for Enina's reputation."

"But it's unjust. Her reputation�which apparently she did not deserve
anyway--"

"Don't judge her, please. You don't know what her marriage was like."

"Fine, but even with that aside, no one's reputation is worth the life
of a young woman who did not commit any--'' she stopped, thinking
furiously.

"Curzon. . . made a mistake with Enina. He did love her--very
much--but the circumstances were such that there was no way for them
to love each other honorably, in the open; Enina's position. . . but
that doesn't mean that what they did was right. You see how confusing
it can be--in day-to-day life, questions as to who is ultimately
responsible for what actions. . . " Jadzia took a deep breath.

She continued "In sober fact, I did not commit the crime Curzon was
charged with, and I should not be answerable for it. I also did not
commit adultery with Enina, and I should not be answerable for that
either--but I couldn't help Feeling answerable for it, enough so that
I almost. . . "

"I think I see your point. But what has this got to do with your
motives now?"

"I think I may want to help you understand Trill, because of what
happened to you with Kiran Odan, and. . . "

"To help make up for what happened with Curzon and Enina."

"Not very logical, is it."

"No, but. . . my reasons aren't very logical, either."

"How do you mean?" Jadzia settled herself more comfortably, facing
Beverly, and took a long quaff of her slightly-cooled drink.

"I'm not sure that all I want is to understand Kiran's people. If only
he had told me. . . when Kareel came to me, she could have explained.
. . but she didn't. She said she was still Odan, she still loved me,
and she couldn't imagine that ever changing. I don't understand why. .
. she didn't tell me that a host is not something discarded like a
torn shirt. If she'd said. . . "

They were both quiet a moment, then Jadzia said "Maybe. . . she felt
she had to make the gesture, but had a pretty good idea that a
relationship between the two of you wouldn't work. Maybe she was
nervous, wanted out--I told you how hesitant we are, usually, to
become involved in permanent, committed relationships with those
outside our species--but she didn't want to be the one to end it. I
don't know why she did what she did, Beverly; I don't know why Kiran
Odan did what he did. I know that you were hurt, and neither Kiran nor
Kareel should have left you so in the dark. My guess is the Odan
symbiont has something to do with it."

"Then the symbionts aren't simply storage devices for memory engrams."
Beverly took a drink of her Irish coffee.

"No. We don't believe they are. And as I said, I can't explain why;
the experience is too subjective." She paused, then said "You said you
weren't sure all you wanted was to understand Odan's people, and then
you spoke of Kareel, and how she said she loved you, but didn't
explain things to you when she had the chance."

"Yes." Beverly stared into her cup.

"Is it an apology from her, or from Kiran, that you want? Would one
from me do?"

"I want," Beverly said softly, coming into the realization as she
spoke, "to know what would have happened if I hadn't turned her down.
How much of her was, really, Odan, whether she. . . " She looked up at
Jadzia. "And I saw you, and. . . I'm sorry. I didn't know myself that
I was. . . categorizing you so callously. I didn't know what I wanted,
beyond some answers about Trill. But I suppose I know now why I ran
from you so rudely, when you'd been so helpful."

"I'm not offended, Beverly. Maybe I should be, but as I'm fond of
telling Benjamin, you're only human. If I'm the first Trill you've met
since Odan. . . it's understandable. But. . . I understand
embarrassment, too, so if you want me to go. . . ''

"Do you know what I said to her? I apologized. I said that maybe
someday the human ability to love. . . wouldn't be so limited."

"Oh, Beverly. . . " Jadzia got up and moved to the end of the couch
where she could reach Beverly's chair, and took the doctor's hand.
"I'm sorry. Truly sorry."

Beverly looked up at her; the Trill's face was creased with worry, the
grip of her hand patently sincere. The Trill said "If there was
something I could do. . . "

Beverly sighed. "It was years ago now. I suppose you're doing all you
can do; radically improving my opinion of Trill as a group." She
smiled slightly, and withdrew her hand gently. "Maybe you should go,
at that. I. . . need to think. But I want to see you again."

Jadzia hesitated only a second before nodding. I'd hesitate too,
Beverly thought, these abrupt departures I keep initiating could be
seen as rather rude.

"Of course. I'm on alpha shift on the station; our day is two hours
longer than yours. Call me anytime after that shift is over. Or, if
it's. . . urgent, for any reason, you can call anytime. I have an in
with the station Commander." She smiled, that slow, sparkling
transformation, and Beverly found herself smiling back..

"Thank you. I'll call you tomorrow." She stood up and so did Jadzia;
the doctor said "I'll walk you to the transporter room--''

"I can find the way; the ship will show me. You should stay here and
relax. I'll see you tomorrow."

They stood there uncertainly for a moment; something seemed called
for, but exactly what wasn't clear. Finally Jadzia leaned forward and
gave Beverly a peck on the cheekbone. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

Beverly stood there a bit longer after Jadzia left, and finally went
to change for bed. It was still early, but she didn't think she'd be
going anywhere this evening, anyway.

---

Captain Picard woke to the insistent warble of the comm. "Yes,
yes--Picard here."

"Jean-Luc?"

The captain blinked, tried to clear his head. "Yes. Beverly?"

"I know it's late, Jean-Luc, but I was wondering--I called Deanna, but
she's not answering--''

"Beverly, of course, are you all right?"

"I'm all right, I--just need to talk. Can I come to your quarters?"

"I'll come to you. Give me just a few moments."

"But I don't want to--"

"Beverly. I'll come to you. Understood?"

"Understood."

The captain hauled his anatomy out of bed, went to the bathroom to
splash some water across himself, and got into a greyshirt uniform,
skipping the red jacket. It being so late in Gamma shift, nearly into
Delta, he didn't encounter anyone on the short way to Beverly's
quarters.

The door was locked. He touched the signal. "It's me, Beverly."

The door slid open.

He came in, looking around; there were a couple of mugs on the coffee
table, but other than that the place was completely neat. She must be
in the bedroom. "Beverly?"

"I'm in here."

He crossed the front room and the half-partition; she was in bed, in a
ruffled white nightgown that covered her from neck to wrists. There
were PADDs, books and other paraphernalia scattered around her on the
bed and the floor; the only light on was the small reading light by
the bed. She was sitting with her knees up, and her arms wrapped
around them, staring into space.

She looked up as he came in. "Jean-Luc, I'm sorry to disturb you, but
I don't think I can--"

He sat down near the end of the bed, patting her knee affectionately.
"I know you wouldn't call me shortly before midnight for no good
reason."

She looked rather stricken, and he said quickly "Even if you can't
explain it at once."

She dropped her forehead to her knees, and he moved up to put his arm
around her. "I take it this is something to do with the Trill
lieutenant you met on the station?"

"It must be. I just can't seem to sleep, Jean-Luc, and I can't seem to
understand. I tried everything I could think of short of drugs--I
didn't want to have to call you--''

"Will you please stop worrying about calling me? I'm always irritable
when I'm awakened. You know that."

She chuckled, and sat up, with a little help from him.

"Now," he said, brushing her hair back from her face and settling
comfortably with her at the head of the bed, one arm around her
shoulders, "tell me about this Trill."

Disjointedly but coherently, she got most of the story out; and
telling it seemed, in itself, to calm her somewhat. By the time she
was done, she was sitting up on her own, saying "I'm sorry. This is
ridiculous. I don't. . . "

"Beverly. . . " Picard rolled his eyes."If you apologize one more
time, I'm leaving. And sit back. That arm's there for a reason."

She seemed frozen a moment, then laid back the few inches to rest
against his arm and the pillows. "You're too good a friend sometimes."

"You've saved my life more than once, remember. Oh, stop it," he
grinned as she readjusted her posture to point toward the door. "You
know that I'm not here only because you're the only thing that keeps
me from dying when--Stop it!" Too late; she'd nailed his gleaming head
with a pillow.

He snatched the pillow and stuffed it back behind them, and this time
she made no protest about resting against it. "Jean-Luc, it's cheap
and callous and. . . she's a perfectly wonderful young lieutenant
who's done nothing to anyone. . . yet she's so. . . burdened. And here
I am, adding my burden. But then, she. . . "

"She seems to want you to do so."

"And she seems to think it would relieve her, in Some way, of Some
part of what she's carrying; but. . . damn. I wish I knew more about
Trill. She's the only source of information I have."

"You said the station commander was a friend of her last host."

"I think asking Commander Sisko for advice about this would be. . .
disrespectful to Jadzia. But you're right, there must be other
avenues. . . "

"Lieutenant Dax HAS volunteered herself for your education; and
honestly, I don't think your problem has that much to do with textbook
information on Trill as a species. I think you should be concerned
more about this particular Trill, and about what you want from this
association. From what you've told me, what she wants is very clear."

"And that is?"

"Whatever you want."

"I hate you, Jean-Luc," Beverly said quietly.

"I hate you too, Beverly," the Captain said consolingly, kissing the
doctor on the temple.

She sighed. "I think I'm getting a crush on her."

"I noticed."

"Well then why didn't you SAY something? Never mind; don't answer
that."

"I wasn't planning on it."

"I just wish I was sure it's HER I'm getting a crush on. I could
handle that. I just don't want it to be some. . . misguided attempt
to. . . "

"I know what you're worried about, Beverly. I don't think it's
something that could happen to you; if you're interested in her, I'm
certain it's her you're interested in."

"Thanks, Jean-Luc."

"There's more where this came from. You seem to think you're being a
great burden, but you're one of the easiest people to support I've
ever known. You do all the real work. All I have to do is the
confirmation."

She laughed, leaning her face into his neck, and they sat there
chuckling for a bit before exchanging a kiss; then Beverly slid down
to go to sleep, and the Captain left to continue his own interrupted
repose.

---

"So," Jadzia said as they leaned against the filtered port, waiting
for the wormhole to open�it was just visible from Jadzia's
quarters�"did you sleep well?"

"Fine, once. . . fine, just fine."

"Good."

"And did you?"

"Oh, yes. Always do."

"Good. That's. . . good." If the level of forced conversation in this
chamber rises another kilogram per square centimeter, Beverly thought,
the port is going to crack and set off the breach alarm. And maybe
we'll both be sucked into space, which might be better than what's
going on at the moment.

"When's it due? The wormhole opening, I mean."

"Just another minute or so. Beverly, I wanted to say that�"

"No, let me apolo�"

"�I'm sorry if I�"

"Aiigh!" Beverly slammed her palm against the pane. "I can't take this
any more! Jadzia. I'm�oh, damn." She picked Jadzia's hand off the pane
and kissed it, then kissed her cheek.

Jadzia leaned into the kiss and went to kiss Beverly's cheek, but
their mouths brushed and in an amazing display of non-telepath
telepathy, they decided to go with that.

The wormhole opened in a glorious shimmer of light. The kiss broke in
their mutual surprise, and they watched until it closed.

In the new dimness, Jadzia said, sounding quietly stunned, "I think I
wet my uniform."

Beverly started laughing, still holding Jadzia's hand, and then Jadzia
started laughing.

Beverly finally gasped, "That'd better have been hyperbole, or I'm a
complete cad." Jadzia said "It was. At least I hope it was."

Jadzia led her by the hand over to the couch and they sat; their grip
on each others' hands could have been more comfortable, but neither
was willing to release it even for a second; they were still shaking
with embarrassed, half-suppressed mirth.

"I had to talk to Benjamin for half an hour before I could sleep last
night," Jadzia admitted, obviously fearing to look a fool; and Beverly
laughed harder. "I had to talk to Jean-Luc�listen; I called him in his
quarters nearly into Delta shift, and I sounded so lost he insisted on
coming to ME."

They continued to laugh, until Beverly said "This isn't funny."

"Well, not very, at least, no."

"But I guess we have to see it that way."

"Or we'll go nuts with wondering."

"What's my real motive," Beverly said.

"Is it her, or is it him," Jadzia agreed.

"But I feel like I want to�I don't know if it's right."

"Me neither."

"Is it that important," Beverly elaborated, "or am I only trying to
avoid. . . something?"

"Exactly."

They sat a minute, two svelte people assimilating each other's
appearances in uniform and extrapolating, Beverly noting this and
Jadzia noting that, and Beverly finally said, sounding quite polite
and in perfect confusion, "Do you want to go to bed? With me, I mean?"

"Oh, of course. Yes, I mean, I was hoping you'd. . . I do."

They hovered there a minute, then both broke out laughing again. "I
suppose my place would be better," Beverly said, and they both laughed
so hard at the ridiculous obviousness that they almost exhausted
themselves too much to feel awkward.

Almost.

"Just. . . it's through there. So is the bathroom. I'll be. . . I'll
be right there. I just have to. . . call someone," Beverly smiled
nervously.

"Is there a terminal in your room?"

"No, but. . . I don't need the terminal, really. You use it, and I'll
use the comm in my room."

"Then I suppose I'LL be right there," Jadzia smiled, and stifled more
giggles.

Beverly smiled back and escaped into her bedroom, touched the comm.
"Crusher to Picard."

"Picard here."

"Could I speak to you privately over the comm, Captain?"

"One moment." There was a brief pause, and Jean-Luc said "I'm in my
ready-room, Beverly. I take it your Trill obsession is in your
quarters?"

Oh, God. "How did you know?"

"A certain note you get in your voice. Rather desperate, actually.
What's she doing? Is she in the bathroom?"

"She's using the terminal in my front room�'' Beverly could barely
hear the hushed tones of the Trill's voice as she spoke to whoever it
was over the terminal.

"Calling Sisko, no doubt. You two. Would you just relax and do what
comes naturally?"

"We just want to be sure, there's nothing wrong with�''

"Nothing's sure in this life, Beverly. Do what you want to do, pretty
badly want to do, as far as I can see."

"You don't think it's simply leftover guilt, confusion, spurious
emotion, foolish?"

"I think ever being attracted to anyone is foolish, but you know me.
Come on, Beverly, let Commander Sisko and me off the hook."

"Here goes nothing. Crusher out."

"Good luck. Picard out."

As the computer cheeped a disconnect, Jadzia peered around the
partition. "Hello?"

"Come in! Of course, come in."

Jadzia sat next to Beverly and took her hand again. And again,
standards of nontelepathic species were proven in error.

"Mine said okay," Jadzia said, "What did yours say?"

"He said okay. I wondered, since they don't like each other�"

"Well, mine doesn't like yours, for reasons I'm sure you know�''

"Yes. I know."

"But�I guess whether we. . . ." Jadzia broke off and started to kiss
Beverly and they lost their balance and toppled over onto the bed;
beyond the whuff of expelled air from Beverly's lungs that Jadzia
successfully dodged, they paid no attention and things continued
escalating.

A long time later, Beverly was half-awakened by the door signal. "Who.
. . hm, who is it?"

"Me, Beverly," came Will Riker's voice. "I'm. . . having trouble
sleeping; could you use your clearance to replicate something for me?"

"Come in." She touched the light on, and her leg brushed against
another leg that wasn't hers, and she heard a voice next to her say ".
. . is something. . . mph. . . "

She opened her mouth for a hurried rebuttal to her own last statement,
but it was too late; she just had time to yank the sheet up over her
and Jadzia both, which was asking a lot of the sheet; the bed was only
about a double.

"Sorry if I woke you, but you're usually. . . " he stopped dead in the
doorway to the front room. "Oh my God," he whispered, with an
expression like a drowning man handed a glass of water.

"Uh. . . Will Riker, this is Lieutenant Jadzia Dax, Deep Space Nine.
You remember me mentioning Will; he volunteered to host Odan."

Reaching over Beverly, Jadzia calmly held out her hand. "That was a
very brave thing to do. Beverly said she was having trouble just
keeping you alive, toward the end."

Will took the hand, bowing slightly over it. "Lieutenant Dax, good to
meet you. I was. . . just doing my best to help."

"And more, the way I understand it," Jadzia said with perfectly polite
sincerity, and Will developed a case of the coughs and let go of her
hand, saying "Uh, Beverly, don't worry about the somatic; I'll make
the walk down to sickbay and. . . ask whoever's on duty. . . "

"I think it's Selar this evening," Beverly said, and Will, making
another polite but slightly excessive bow to them both, muttered
"Figures. Ladies, my apologies for disturbing you."

"It's all right," Beverly said, applying a smile to her face and
sliding down farther under the covers.

"Nice meeting you," Jadzia called after him, having to raise her voice
a little; she wasn't sure if he'd heard before the doors closed behind
him.

"Sorry about that," Beverly said in quiet consternation. "I was
asleep. Will drops by on occasion for headache remedies and sleep
inducers, that sort of thing; I think he just hates going into
Sickbay. And I usually sleep in a nightgown."

"A lot of people don't like hospitals," Jadzia nodded, lying down and
snuggling back up to Beverly. "You two aren't uncomfortable about
having had sex while he hosted Odan, are you?"

"Actually we were, for a little while. We got over it pretty quickly,
but I think we just refreshed his state of unease."

"So he's familiar with your body already, and mine was barely covered.
If I were him, I'd be sending you a thank-you note."

"IF you were him? Don't I get one anyway?" Beverly asked, running her
fingernails lightly up Jadzia's side.

"From me, you want a note? I have plans for better than that."

"Good. . . "

---

"I met your friend Deanna," Jadzia said, took a swallow of raktajino
and set the cup back down on the bedside table, leaning over Beverly
to do it.

"Here on the station?"

"Yes. She was with our first officer, Kira Nerys. They were being
diplomatic together. The provisional government decided to send the
Bajoran-Federation liaison of the station to your ship."

"Yes, I can see Jean-Luc assigning Deanna a job like that. I haven't
seen her in a couple of days; it must be keeping her busy."

"I'd say so. Kira asked to borrow one of my holosuite programs."

Beverly's eyebrows crept toward her hairline. "Sounds like they're
having fun."

"The same kind of fun we are?"

"I wouldn't expect it of Deanna...but then, I wouldn't have expected
this of me, either." She ran her hand down Dax's bare back.

Dax stretched in response and nearly edged Beverly off the bed. They
made a quick mutual grab. "I'm stable," Beverly said, "but we'd better
do this in my quarters in the future. If even one of us were any
smaller..."

"I like getting tangled in these long dancer's legs," Dax whispered,
stroking Beverly's topmost leg, lips against the doctor's ear, and
Beverly didn't need to be asked twice. As they started getting
situated, arms around each other and mouths together, the bedcovering
slid onto the floor and Dax's comm beeped.

"Blast it," Beverly said, with real feeling. "I thought we had a FEW
minutes."

"Dax here," Jadzia said, with as much irritation in her voice as she
ever used.

"We need you in Ops, Lieutenant," came Sisko's voice. "And when I
called the Enterprise asking for Doctor Crusher, Commander Riker
seemed to feel you'd have some idea as to her whereabouts. If you see
her, tell her we need her here too; this concerns the water purity
levels. She can check with the Commander for verification of her
orders, and call her Sickbay from here, if she needs to tie down any
loose ends for the time she's gone."

"If I see her, I'll tell her, Benjamin. Dax out."

They both sighed, their foreheads thunking dejectedly together as they
held onto each other for one more minute. "More analyses," Beverly
muttered. "I cannot WAIT."

"Neither can I." But they untangled themselves and left the confines
of the narrow Cardassian bed and took rapid turns in the equally
narrow sonic shower. "Once again," Dax was saying, "if either of us
were just a little smaller, we could prolong things just a bit..."

"That's why we need to do this in my quarters," Beverly reminded her,
handing her a towel and wedging past her into the shower.

"Should we be arriving in Ops together?" Beverly asked politely as
they arrived at the lift.

"Why not? Everyone here thinks I sleep with my PADD. Besides, it's not
as though we have anything to be ashamed of."

"I know we don't," Beverly smiled gently. "I take it that was Jadzia,
the young host, talking?"

"It was," Jadzia sighed. "I know you were only wondering if I wanted
to deal with silly gossip, and gossip doesn't get much sillier than on
this station. Come on." She stepped onto the lift, Beverly following.

"Ops," Beverly said firmly, with a wink at Jadzia, who smiled her slow
sparkling smile.

As the lift ground to a stop, Beverly looked around the
Cardassian-designed room; a variously-leveled pit design, with
walkways and office overlooking the workstations. But there were no
watching overseers officers pacing the walks; only an about equal mix
of Bajoran and Starfleet officers, moving harmoniously, if hurriedly,
up and down the ladder-stairs. A couple of times, even in this brief
look, she saw people swing over the edges of the levels and land
unremarked on the level below completely without benefit of stair.
Apparently Jadzia was right; Sisko followed Starfleet regulations; but
anywhere they left latitude, he availed himself of it if it provided
him a compromise with Bajoran standards.

As they walked along the metal deck, the door to Commander Sisko's
office opened. "Lieutenant, Doctor. If you would step into my office a
moment; I need to introduce you to someone."

Beverly and Jadzia exchanged a glance, then headed for the office and
followed Sisko in; the door slid closed behind them.

A young girl, small, with deep brown skin and black hair, was seated
before Sisko's desk. She stood as they came in and Sisko said "Doctor
Beverly Crusher, Lieutenant Jadzia Dax, this is Serath Eris, Tetrarch
of the Inchii."

Jadzia quickly set the tone. "Tetrarch," she said, with the small
polite bow. Beverly followed, repeating the title and bowing.

Sisko was leaning against his desk and picking up his baseball, which
he proceeded to toss in one hand, managing to make it less distracting
than a tapping foot or finger would have been, as Serath Eris sat down
again.

"The Tetrarch's people," he said, "have been excluded from the
aqueduct channel reclamation project, largely for geographical
reasons--in other words, water runs downhill, and their province is in
the mountains. In Engineering terms, we have been unable to provide
them with a regular supply of clean, or even cleanable, water. There
is a large spring source within their territory, having several
significantly large outlets--but it is seriously contaminated."

The girl--Beverly revised her age estimation to about fourteen--looked
near tears. "We've tried every means at our disposal," she said.
"There is no equipment available, as most of it's being used to
redirect and purify water for more arable lands. We were a community
of precious stone miners; we have returned to our ancestral lands and
managed to reclaim several veins and sites the Cardassians did not
have the chance to loot. But without water, we can't stay, and it's
been made clear there are no resources at this time--" she paused, the
look on her face one that Beverly could sympathize with, related to
such a statement, "--to bring water up through the passes to us. We
must know, and soon, if there's a way to make our one source of water
useable."

"The engineering teams have been over it," Sisko confirmed. "A search
was made for another spring, or an uncontaminated source of the same
spring; none was found. You'll have all the data at our disposal; and
understand this, please--we do not expect a miracle. If the spring is
impossible to reclaim--"

"WE NEED a miracle," the Tetrarch cut in, "or I would not have had the
audacity to appeal directly to the Emissary. We will do anything
necessary. Find us a way to keep our lands and our livelihood."

Not much arguing with THAT, Beverly thought, as Jadzia said "Tetrarch,
with all due respect, we will do our very best for you; but we can
guarantee nothing. Commander, what sort of staff can we count on?"

"I'm assigning three Starfleet science-branch ensigns to you; two with
specialties in medical applications and one with a specialty in
microbiology. You'll also have two Bajoran lieutenants who are versed
in general biology, and a woman who is a doctor, by the standards used
at the moment on Bajor. Those standards are not the same as ours, but
she does have specialized knowledge of Bajoran survival requirements
on the cellular level. I understand, Doctor, that you are capable of
treating Bajorans, and considered qualified by our standards; but
theirs are, for the time, constantly changing, and her inclusion was a
request of the Tetrarch."

"That will be fine, of course, Commander," Beverly said. "It's always
helpful to have someone who knows the local biology to check my
findings and assumptions with. What's her name?"

"Her name is Serath Eris," said the Commander, completely
straight-faced, nodding toward Serath where she sat. "Please
remember," he added, "that Tetrarch Serath is also a woman, by the
standards used at the moment on Bajor."

Beverly knew that comment had been made mostly for her, but she'd been
on the Enterprise for six years, for heaven's sake; this wasn't about
to shock her. "Of course. Good to have you aboard, Tetrarch." She
smiled reassuringly at the doctor, girl, whatever.

---

"It doesn't matter how old they are, as long as they can perform the
duties themselves," Jadzia explained as they went over their equipment
with their support staff. "Heredity doesn't mean anything if someone
else has to speak for the child in question. The d'jaras do count for
something, but since the invasion and occupation, they've been mostly
ignored. I'd be surprised if they ever made a significant
reappearance, but in situations where everybody's d'jara is known,
they seem to make some difference; that could be the case here, if
Serath's d'jara name is highest. I'm only shocked she's considered a
doctor. Bajoran standards for masters of an art or craft are pretty
grueling; she must have been apprenticed nearly as a baby."

"Sisko didn't tell me any of this."

"He probably doesn't know. Major Kira and I do a lot of missions
together, and eat a lot of bad food together. We talk to each other.
As yet, she doesn't talk to Benjamin."

"I see." Beverly straightened up, noting the filled state of the case
she had been examining on her PADD. "I'm done over here. When we're
ready to load up--"

"I think we are." Two Bajoran deckhands were helping the three ensigns
and one of the lieutenants load the runabout, and Beverly indicated
the readiness of her pile by waving at it and stepping away from it.

They got aboard the runabout and found seats. Two of the Ensigns,
Cavanaugh and Solonehk, were piloting.

After they had cleared the station and were on their way, Beverly
fired up the screen at one of the other two stations. "Everyone, I
have something to add to the briefing." She plugged her PADD into the
console and began.

"Judging by the chemical analyses made by the engineering teams, I
believe that unless they overlooked something very crucial, we are
facing a self-perpetuating problem. These people are miners, and while
they are using small-scale, low-invasive methods, the Cardassians
there before them did not. In cases like that, it's common to find the
groundwater contaminated; but as I said, the contaminant may be
continuously added to the groundwater and the general area by the
actions of the mining village itself."

"The Cardassians wouldn't have minded contaminated groundwater, since
they could get their water elsewhere, and the water remained usable
for industrial purposes," Dax thought out loud. "You're saying that
the balance of chemicals in the groundwater is now so unstable that
even the less invasive methods of the Bajoran miners there now are
sufficient to bring on this condition?"

"That's it. We'll need some more information on the specific methods
the Cardassians were using. Strip mining goes without saying; it's
their standard method on their conquered worlds. But there are other
methods--I'm thinking of water extraction--that might be just as bad,
in this case. Used on a large, industrial scale, water extraction
could have brought this problem about."

"I thought water extraction was generally safer for the surrounding
ecosystem than some methods, at least," said Ensign Singh, and Jadzia
replied "It is, at least when it's kept to several smaller operations
instead of one large one. But it has an effect on the chemical content
of the soil layers, a sometimes permanent effect; whether it's
damaging depends entirely on the chemicals and the ecosystem
involved."

"And the Cardassians wouldn't have bothered to check that," muttered
Lieutenant Seeja.

"Not likely," Beverly said. "We were told that the Cardassians did not
maintain a permanent population in the area; only a small, mobile camp
with a staff of Bajoran workers, Cardassian overseers and support
personnel. I got the feeling it wasn't considered a plum assignment by
anybody involved."

"In the briefing, we were told that if it came to it, we would simply
give them what they needed to purify their water, distill it if
necessary," Cavanaugh asked. "Is there some reason that's not a viable
solution?"

"If that's all we can do, we'll do it; but the underlying problem will
remain, sabotaging the community's efforts to become a stable,
self-sufficient province. Granted they never were literally
self-sufficient; in the market economy that existed before the arrival
of the Cardassians, they traded for what they couldn't grow or raise,
and for other items they didn't manufacture themselves."

"But unsafe groundwater, and/or soil, will eventually make it
impossible to maintain even market-economy self-sufficiency," Dax
continued. "If they were only going to establish a small mining
settlement, we would probably give them the purifying equipment and
the power to run it, but that's not the case. These people want their
lands back; they want to rebuild the communities of their ancestors.
Even only considering the trouble and power consumption of distilling
enough water for a large community, and that their only source of
water..." she shook her head. "It isn't feasible."

"Here," Beverly said as her screen came on, "Lieutenant Dax and I have
gone through the data the engineers brought back, and here are the
elements and compounds the engineering teams found; the scale down the
side indicates the depth of the water and the geographical area of the
sample. As you can see, we're dealing with a fairly straightforward
heavy-metal toxin. Distilling will remove it, yes, though the wear on
the equipment and the necessity of constant component replacement
would be considerable. But that won't get it out of the land. In the
past, I've dealt with situations like this through adding a bonding
agent to the toxin that prevents it from entering a biological bodily
system."

Everybody but Solonehk nodded, looking like that'd been what they were
about to suggest.

"In this case, though, I have no way of knowing what, or even if there
is, a bonding agent that will do the trick. I need to know more about
Bajoran physiology--which is what you two and Tetrarch Serath will be
helping us with."

She sighed. "On a final down note, though, as near as the chemical
engineers could tell--and they didn't realize the significance of
this; I only realized it from something Lieutenant Dax said while we
were working on it this morning--this contaminant is interfering with
the functioning of the anaerobic bacteria in the soil, and that seems
to be a purely physical interaction. In this case, the bacteria in
question seem to be a necessary component in the aeration of the soil
at the altitude the community is at, and the toxin is bringing them up
to a level too high for them to accomplish their function in the
ecosystem."

Everyone looked at each other. "Are you saying that all the soil in
this province is dead? Nothing is growing there at all?"

"Everything below a certain altitude. The altitude of the main
underground source of the spring."

There was silence, and Ensign Singh said softly "The Commander seemed
to think it was a good thing that the spring's main source was at a
high altitude."

"This connection obviously hadn't occurred to him. He could hardly
have known about it; the chemical engineers--there were notes from
only one or two, this was being seen as a construction problem at the
time--didn't have the background in biology they would need to realize
the importance of various types of soil bacteria, and their placement
in the ecostructure."

Dax said "We'd hoped that this was a biological infestation; it's
easier to kill an infestation than remove a toxin, or bind it."

"And as long as that spring is pouring it out in the water, the soil,
into everything--"

"We find the source," Ensign Solonehk said, the first time she'd
spoken.

Beverly nodded. "Yes, or sources. That will be your main priority,
Ensign Solonehk, Lieutenant Seeja. Ensign Cavanaugh and the Tetrarch
will be working on finding a biologically neutral agent that will bond
to the toxin molecule and allow it to be consumed harmlessly by
Bajorans; perhaps if we can't get the agent to the source, we can get
it into the people.

"Lieutenant Meron, you and Ensign Singh will be finding the specifics
of the toxin's interference with the flora and soil bacteria; we may
also be able to get a bonding agent into the dirt and the plants. All
of this is stopgap, of course, but it's more realistic stopgap than
water distilleries. Lieutenant Dax and I will be moving from group to
group, consolidating information, and also working on something that I
think may have a chance of success-finding, if not a bonding agent to
prevent the toxin's entry to Bajoran systems in the first place, then
a palliative or even a cure that will counteract the damage done by
the toxin.

"The reason I'm attacking all these fronts--separating our forces, as
it were--is that my time here is short. Based on my experience, I may
be able to--at the least--form some cogent hypotheses for those who
remain, get an idea of the most profitable avenues to follow.
Also...it's the quickest way to find out if we're on a dead-end road.
It's possible that at this time, with the resources we have, we won't
be able to make any significant difference in these people's crisis at
all. I'm hoping otherwise, of course."

---

Beverly was squinting against the morning glare--late afternoon for
her and the station residents, just after sunrise where they were--and
inhaling air that brought new definition to the word "crisp".

"Beverly!" Dax was calling over the wind. She was standing at the edge
of some sort of precipice. They were all standing at the top of a
slant, where it started to level out, descending to the south and
surprisingly healthy-looking foliage, fir-like trees and underbrush.
Sparse ground cover, though, Beverly noticed.

She followed Dax's hail and climbed the five or ten meters that
separated them, where she proceeded to be struck speechless. "Oh,
for..."

They were staring into the pelagic blue eye of a volcanic crater lake.

"Quite a spring," Dax said. "Isn't it?"

"Nobody mentioned THIS?" Beverly expostulated.

"It IS pretty small as volcanic cone lakes go," Dax said. "Only a few
hundred meters across."

"How many smaller offshoots of this...spring are there? We have to
find a contaminant source through this?"

"As the Emissary said," came a new voice from behind them; they turned
to see the Tetrarch approaching, "--only a few large springs, but
smaller ones emerge all over the area."

"I suppose you chose this beam-down site so we could get a good look
around," Dax offered, proceeding to get one, her hand shading her
eyes. "It looks like a lot of your foliage has survived, more than we
believed."

"The larger plants," the Tetrarch agreed. "They are, of course,
capable of withstanding the poisoning for a far longer time."

"If your soil is a mixture of porous volcanic substances," Beverly was
saying, "I can see how the toxin...if it even rains, and the water
table rises, and this is the main outlet of the spring, all its
tributary outlets. . . "

"You see," the Tetrarch nodded. "This was once one of the most
beautiful and productive provinces in this part of Bajor. Now the very
things that made it so are proving its undoing."

"Is all the country so mountainous?" Dax asked.

"No. Hill country; this is the only real mountain you could give the
name, in Inchii. Come with me; I'll take you to the house we have
prepared for you."

Bajoran houses tended to the rustic side, size not the least of the
factors in question, and Beverly worried about space. They followed
Serath into the treeline, down a wide and well-tramped path, with the
other members of the party; Solonehk would be landing the runabout,
with their equipment, at a lower, more accessible location.

The walk lasted maybe ten minutes, and when they rounded the shoulder
of the mountain, an expanse of what had no doubt once been grass- and
moss-covered land opened around a rocky stream. This was the location
of the village; at the uppermost end was a large, obviously
Cardassian-built structure. "There," the Tetrarch said, nodding toward
it. "It was once the residence of the project overseers. Needless to
say we've found little use for it, but we hope you will find it
acceptable."

"All we need is enough room to set up, and it looks like that place
has it," Lieutenant Meron said firmly, with a glance at Seeja. The two
women eyed each other for a moment before Seeja visibly subsided.

Cavanaugh shaded his eyes. "I think I hear...here comes Solonehk."

The runabout appeared from the east, gleaming in the morning sunlight;
it circled the area once, and descended smoothly to the western end of
the open expanse, out of the sunlight and into the shadow of the cone.

"Time to unload," Beverly said.

The people of this village, which was called Enser Aht, were
expectedly helpful. They had a working knowledge of the area, gleaned
mostly from their parents or grandparents, which would save a lot of
stumbling blindly through the landscape looking for good sites. Nor
were they too proud to help the team drag their equipment up the hill
to the house, or to do a few fetching and carrying chores to help set
up.

The bottom floor was pillared for stability, but otherwise was all one
room, which was quite ideal. By noon local time, they were set up and
operating, and had even brought in a few samples to test the equipment
calibration and connections. Two young men brought up a satisfactory
lunch, despite the team's protests of a functioning replicator on the
runabout; apparently this food was all stored, and the provisional
government had been generous with it--if they couldn't get the water
situation taken care of, it would all just have to be carried back
down anyway when the villagers left.

Jadzia and Beverly ate theirs outside, sitting on rocks under some
very healthy-looking trees; the appearance was deceiving, but restful
nonetheless. "I don't know if I can hold out until this time zone's
evening," Beverly said around bites of an extremely hot rolled object
she was washing down with replicated water. "We hardly slept last
night, and this afternoon, it became morning again."

"I know what you mean," Jadzia yawned. When the yawn was over she
leaned over and pecked Beverly on the cheek while the latter was
trying to chew a big bite, causing the doctor to nearly choke on a
food-derailed noise, which emerged as some member of the squawk
family. Jadzia started patting the other woman's back, saying "Sorry,
sorry, didn't mean to..."

Beverly saved her nasal lining from being inundated with spices by
swallowing a quarter-liter of water in one gulp. "Well, I'm awake
now," she graveled, and coughed once. "Even if I'm not up tonight
for...oh, don't use that smile on me!"

"What smile?"

"The shameless expression you're wearing right now, and don't deny it.
If you weren't more than two and a half centuries older than I am, I'd
spank you."

"Well...it is only the symbiont that's two and a half centuries older
than you are..."

"That's it. When we're through for the day, young lady, you're going
to get it."

"But good, I hope."

"Oh, just...eat, will you?" Beverly sighed.

"Your wish is...never mind."

---

It was that evening, as they were preparing to bed down--everybody who
wanted one had a private room upstairs; the beds were Cardassian, but
Jadzia was used to that--that they got the first news.

"Doctor Crusher," called Ensign Solonehk. "Please come down a moment."

Jadzia followed her at a semi-discreet distance. Everyone was
gathering around the portable mainscreen.

"We think we may have found a bonding agent," the Tetrarch said,
"judging from the tests run using myself as a subject. There are,
however, side--excuse me--" her eyes continued to get larger as she
shoved her way to the nearest lavatory and was loudly sick therein.
Meron went to hold her head and wipe her face. Beverly and Jadzia both
stared after the poor girl with compassionate abdominal twinges.

"That's it," Cavanaugh picked up for her. "It does bond to the toxin,
and it does prevent it from entering the system; it also makes a very
nauseating compound."

"So they can take the bonding agent, but if they drink the water
then--"

"Not necessarily. The Tetrarch is the only volunteer we've tried it
out on; we were only sure it blocked the toxin about two hours ago,
and it took some time to formulate a sample and wait a bit to see what
happened. It may not be a widespread reaction."

Beverly watched the swirling chemical representations and accompanying
notations on the screen. "All right, I'll keep that in mind. Is this
the first time she's thrown up?"

"I could tell she was getting sick, sir, but this is the first--make
that the second," he amended at the sounds from the lavatory, "time
she's vomited. We have some more candidates for an ingestible bonding
agent. Here, this is what we've come up with..."

They spent the evening going over everyone's data, and a pallet was
dragged into position next to the relevant lavatory for the Tetrarch.
Beverly went over the girl's blood samples and, with the help of the
medical technicians, decided the reaction probably would be
widespread, but short-lived. The water could be made drinkable for
Bajorans if the Bajorans in question could ride out a fifty-hour
blood-chemical adjustment period. Also, using the computer, they
projected that Bajorans adjusted to the spring water would experience
bowel flux for about the same time if removed from the area for any
length of time, that being the way the compounded toxin/bonding agent
stimulated the digestive tract. They could have no way of knowing what
years of exposure to the compound would do in terms of digestive
physical dependency.

"Nor," Dax sighed tiredly, "do we have any data on anyone but
fourteen-year-old female Bajorans with all the Tetrarch's other
biological significances. But we do have some untested candidates for
a bonding agent, and we have Meron and Singh's reports, and Solonehk
and Seeja's."

"Sorry, I've been going over the blood samples. What do you find?"

"The soil and plants are being affected through the altering of a
waste product produced by the local microorganisms that is usually a
source of anaerobic nourishment in the soil and a genetic facilitator
in the local autotrophs. Specifically, it's affecting absorption, in
both cases," Dax clarified.

"Any projections, Singh?" Beverly asked.

"Not yet, sir. It took us today to find those relevant causes."

"Of course, and you found them very quickly. That's excellent work.
Solonehk, Seeja, how was your day?"

"I regret to inform you, Doctor," the young brown-haired half-Vulcan
said, "that we have found only that the source of the poisoning is
widespread through the architecture of the extinct volcano. Farther
than we can hope to penetrate with our equipment, there is a level
where this toxin originates. I believe extreme explosive mining to be
the final cause of the toxin's, and attendant less harmful
substances', reaching the springwater level. I can offer no immediate
avenue to the source of the poison."

"But given the right equipment," Dax asked, "do you think you could
find it?"

Solonehk and Seeja exchanged a look. "We need a core-borer that can
reach to planetary depths, a more geospecific sensor array, and more
mobility," Seeja said.

"If they're to be had, you'll have them," Beverly said. "Everyone
should relax now and sleep; everything's been recorded, we'll be up
early. Dax, we need to visit the runabout."

Jadzia stood, setting her PADD down on the nearest table, and said
"Yes, sir."

As they made their way down the trail, through the village, to the
runabout at the foot of the clear area, Jadzia asked "How are you
holding up?"

"I've been more worn out than this."

"And you didn't like it then any more than you do now, did you?"

"Not really." Beverly touched the access pad at the runabout's door
and they climbed aboard.

"I guess we're here for a report?"

"I'm hoping I can get that equipment from Jean-Luc, too."

"Good luck. I know I'll never get it from Benjamin. The station
doesn't have it, and can't get it within any reasonable period of
time."

"The Enterprise is capable of amazing things, given Jean-Luc any
choice at all."

Dax had left the runabout and was sitting about twelve feet up in the
nearest tree when the door finally opened, emitting the dimming
interior lights onto the ground.

Beverly stopped after walking a few feet and stood there in the night
dimness.

Jadzia said "You didn't get the equipment."

"No," the doctor said, and began walking toward Dax's voice. The
Lieutenant swung down from her perch to the next branch that could
bear weight, then to the ground. She didn't approach Beverly yet. "I'm
sure there's a reason."

"Yes, there is a reason. The Enterprise is here to help with the
aqueduct reclamation project. All engineering teams and resources are
to be devoted thereto. He called Starfleet Command about this. We're
here to accomplish one thing, and with the orders he has now, he had
to call. He spoke with Vice-Admiral Necheyev, and she was very
understanding, but made it clear that equipment on that scale was
beyond what the Enterprise could presently provide for a secondary
reclamation project."

"And did your Captain think the Enterprise could provide it even so?"
Dax guessed.

"He said that his crew could use the resources at their disposal and
provide this equipment and mobility, that he knew they could do it
without taking anything away from the main project. He even insisted
on speaking to Admiral Sirketh."

Dax came up and put her arms around Beverly. "He was specifically
ordered not to provide the equipment, or a shuttle."

"Worse. He was ordered that, and to recall me. The Federation should
not overstep its bounds, nor--"

"Beverly, Beverly--it's not your fault." Dax rocked her, stroking her
hair.

"You know what he said then?"

"What?" Jadzia pulled back and found Beverly's face in the dimness
with one hand, cradling her cheek.

"He told me to stay where I was and do what I could until the
Enterprise was ready to leave, or I came to the end of my usefulness
here, whichever came first. He also said he'd have Commander Riker
communicate all this to your Commander Sisko."

"He's risking a great deal."

"He has made great personal risks before, when he believed it was the
right thing to do."

"You love him very much."

"I do, and he loves me. He's my captain. I'm his CMO. He trusted me,
and did what he could--''

"It's not your fault. He would have wanted you to make this request.
He TRUSTS you to make this kind of request."

"I know."

"Let's go back up. You need some rest."

"You will wake me if I oversleep."

"If you oversleep."

---

Dax, kneeling in the dirt with a scanner set, felt a sharp tap on her
shoulder and looked up, shading her eyes against the noon sun.

"You told me," Beverly said dangerously, "that you'd wake me if I
overslept."

"You didn't oversleep. You were exhausted and disappointed, and you
needed the rest. You can chew me out in a minute, but first I want to
tell you some good news." She put down her scanner and tricorder and
stood, taking Beverly's shoulders. "Benjamin can't provide the
equipment we requested, but he can help. He's sending a team of
engineers with components and some more basic equipment, and they're
going to help Solonehk and Seeja enhance and expand on what they
already have. Not only that, but your captain has transferred a
shuttlepod to the station due to 'excessive wear and need for
extensive repairs'."

"The team's extra mobility."

"Right. Benjamin couldn't spare the second runabout, but the pod
should do."

"It'll be a tight fit."

"The equipment can be placed with the runabout we have now; they'll
only need enough room for themselves and a few portable items. It'll
be enough."

Beverly sighed and slumped against Dax in full view of God and
everybody, and Dax held her close. "I'm amazed they're cooperating so
well."

"You're not giving them enough credit. Benjamin can control his
personal grievances in service to a larger good. Besides, they're
still communicating through Commander Riker," Jadzia admitted, and
they both chuckled.

"Good old Will," Beverly sighed. "Well, I need to throw some water on
my face and get caught up on the day's activities. I'll see you in a
few minutes."

"Right."

A couple of hours later Beverly had caught up on her coordinating and
reviewing duties, and was looking around for someone to help with
their more routine work.

In the house, Solonehk's head came up from her smaller auxiliary
computer screen. "A runabout is approaching."

"And maybe the other shuttlepod," Beverly hoped, getting up and
dodging outside.

The second runabout had to land pretty near to the first one due to
landscape restrictions, but came down slow and steady. It was followed
by a shuttlepod that landed on a knoll up above the house. Dax had
emerged from somewhere and they both went to meet the runabout.

The doors slid open and Beverly blinked, then smiled hugely. "Geordi!"

"Hi, Doc. I asked the Captain for a little recreational leave time;
Commander Sisko couldn't spare Chief O'Brien."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "Thank you, but I have a hard time
believing you could be spared, either."

"I can't, really, but I haven't had any leave in two years. The
Captain thought he could squeeze it through on that basis.
Lieutenant?"

"Lieutenant Jadzia Dax, DS9, this is Lieutenant Commander Geordi
LaForge, our chief engineer."

"Glad to meet you," Dax said, shaking Geordi's hand with real warmth.
"Come on, I'll help you and the station team familiarize yourselves
with our situation. Maybe Beverly could round up some help to get the
runabout unloaded."

"Right," Beverly said, spotting one of the young men who had brought
their meals up yesterday and going to speak to him. Apparently they'd
finally ceased caring who was the technical superior here; it wasn't
as though the situation would last, anyway.

By that evening, genuine hope had been restored all around. The time
was still limited, mostly for Beverly and Geordi, but with the
information the teams had gathered and Dax and Beverly had
coordinated, several different avenues toward solving the
contamination problem were being actively pursued; if there were blind
alleys to contend with, they were at least unmasked quickly, and the
resources turned elsewhere.

"Uh, Doc," Geordi's voice came from behind Beverly where she was
working in the ground floor of the gothic-feeling Cardassian house.
"There's something you need to know."

Beverly blinked and rubbed her eyes. "Yes?"

"Day after tomorrow, a transport's coming from the Enterprise to take
us both back. The Captain's received our new orders."

She sighed. "It's more that I really could have expected. What time?"

"Oh seven hundred, ship's time, that's, uh. . . "

"About three hours after midnight tomorrow night," Dax supplied,
having overheard, carried her PADD over, and posed it the question.
She laid her hand on Beverly's shoulder and they exchanged a look, and
Geordi said "Well, gotta get back to Lieutenant Seeja," and retreated
outside, where several floodlights gave them enough visibility to
work.

"Are all the men on your ship exceptionally discreet?" Dax smiled,
sitting down next to Beverly.

"The command crew have been together for years. Geordi used to be a
bit of a blunderbuss, but he's improved considerably."

Jadzia leaned over and kissed her, the first such intimacy they'd been
able to share since the station. "Everything's under control," Jadzia
said softly. "Could we get away, do you think, with going to sleep
some time before midnight?"

Beverly smiled back into Jadzia's sparkling eyes. "I think we could."

---

What Beverly thought of as very late the following night, since they
hadn't slept since arising the previous morning, she, Geordi and
Jadzia were outside waiting for the shuttle from the Enterprise.
Geordi was going over a few things with the station engineers who were
still up; the station personnel, with the probable exception of
Jadzia, would be remaining for a week or two longer, depending.

Beverly and Jadzia were sitting on the rocks they'd eaten lunch on a
couple of days ago, arms around each other's waists, holding hands.
They weren't talking much. Most of the things to be said had been, and
they were devoting their attention more to feeling, memorizing the
feeling, of each other's presence.

But as they saw the shuttle approaching, lights moving across the
stars, Beverly whispered "Thank you so much. I understand. . . "

". . . and I understand, so much more now," Jadzia finished. "Thank
you, Beverly."

As the shuttle landed where the second runabout had been, they kissed,
holding each other crushingly tight, and Beverly stood slowly, their
arms sliding apart entwined until they clasped each other's fingers
briefly.

As they let go, Jadzia smiled her slow, transformative smile.

Beverly managed to smile back, her eyes misting, before she lowered
her gaze and turned toward the shuttle, where Geordi was already
climbing aboard.

She was quiet all the way back to the ship, but she and Geordi both
were; they napped as much as possible, while the pilot, a young
ensign, took them home.

They emerged onto the shuttle deck blinking and yawning, still quiet.
They exchanged tired grins and waves as each trudged off to his or her
respective department.

Beverly was trying to keep her mind a blank; she was too tired to
think, to remember properly, right now. She would see how things were
in sickbay, then take the rest of the day off; she felt like a talk
with Deanna, but after she'd had some rest.

She was brought up short when she walked into the main sickbay and saw
Deanna sitting on a biobed with Doctor Selar running a scanner over
her.

She hurried over, and Selar gave way, handing her the scanner. "What's
wrong, Deanna?"

"I was attacked on the station. Nerys--Major Kira, the liaison officer
of the station--thinks it was part of a faction that doesn't approve
of the Federation presence here, and were attempting to state their
feelings to that effect."

"They took care of you on the station? Good Lord, Deanna, your jaw was
broken."

"I know, but I never felt it. Shock, I suppose."

"You're still not in the best shape." After a moment she decided the
station's doctors had been thorough enough, but. . .

"You should be off-duty for a day. No, I'll rephrase; you WILL be off
duty for a day, or Jean-Luc will never hear the end of it. Yes,
Alyssa?" Nurse Ogawa had touched her shoulder.

"There's a message from the station for Counselor Troi; I said it
would be all right to use your office?"

"Of course. Go on, Deanna, but slowly. Lie down and read a good,
peaceful book this evening." Our talk will wait, she thought, as
Deanna went to take the call.

"Alyssa, is there anything pressing that requires my attention?"

"No, Doctor; Selar has kept up the deskwork, and I've nearly finished
supervising the supply inventory. You look like you could use some
rest."

"I could. If you do need anything, I'll be in my quarters. Don't
hesitate."

"I'll call you if we need you, Doctor. Take a nap."

"Yes, Doctor Ogawa," Beverly smiled as she headed for her quarters.

---

That evening, at about nineteen hundred, Beverly's door signal
warbled; she was lying on the sofa in a nightgown, with a tartan
blanket over her, reading. "Come in."

It was Deanna, in a loose, soft green wrap over a pink nightgown. "I
woke up a few minutes ago," she said as she came in. Beverly sat up
and made room, offering part of the blanket. As she climbed under and
Beverly set her book down, Deanna took her hand, then raised her eyes
to Beverly's face. "Apparently YOU had an eventful layover, as well."

"I don't know where to begin--Lieutenant Dax, she's a Trill. . . " she
paused, looking at Deanna. "'As well'? Besides the assault?"

"Major Kira. . . Nerys. . . " Deanna stopped, her eyes distant. "I
don't know where to begin, either."

"We have all evening," Beverly sighed. She got up to get a warming
pitcher of hot chocolate, and a box of tissues. "Computer, run Crusher
relaxation program beta."

A soft, mournful piping over shimmering strings swelled unobtrusively
through the room, and the lights dimmed and changed to a wamer color.
Two candles on the coffee table were activated. She climbed back in
with Deanna, and as they got settled, she said, "Who wants to go
first?"

---

The End