“At least up until the last couple of days,” Dax said, smiling. She felt some curiosity as to precisely why Keru had felt the need for therapy, but didn’t want to pry into his personal affairs; she wasn’t his counselor, after all.
The big Guardian returned her smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I haven’t seen so much action since before I left the Enterprise.Didn’t think I’d ever miss it. Or that I’d start questioning whether I was really cut out to be a Guardian for the rest of my life.”
After pausing to smooth a wrinkle on his dark civilian jacket, Gard frowned slightly. “Sounds like you’re seriously thinking about going back to Starfleet.”
Keru shrugged, smiling. “Maybe, someday. If I found a good reason to make another big life change—and if I thought Starfleet needed me more than Trill does. The symbionts now need the Guardians more than ever. And not just the younger ones, either.” He switched to a hushed, confidential tone. “The ancient symbionts you contacted have been taking on a lot of memories from their dying brethren. They’re going to need our help as well.”
“And you have a chance to learn more about them than ever,” Julian said, a familiar knowledge-hungry expression blossoming across his face. “So little is understood about that phase of the symbiont life cycle.”
Dax winced, hoping Julian’s natural curiosity wouldn’t be misunderstood.
“I think maintaining the seclusion of the Annuated will be a far higher priority than studying them,” Keru said evenly, a small scowl visible beneath his bushy mustache.
Julian nodded, obviously realizing his gaffe. “Of course. I apologize if I caused offense.”
He’s so very young,Dax thought, studying Julian’s sincere, earnest face. Such an innocent, in so many ways.After everything she had seen and experienced over the past day or so, Dax felt as old as the Mak’relle Durlegend itself.
Gard cleared his throat, apparently eager to move the conversation elsewhere. “Overcurious scientists will probably be the least of the symbionts’ worries for the next few years. I’ve already spoken to members of the Symbiosis Evaluation Board, and they’re telling me that not all of the Trill initiates are taking the president’s symbiosis moratorium very well.”
Keru nodded, his expression grave and knowing. He obviously either already knew a great deal about Gard’s function in Trill society, or had intuited it from the other man’s bearing. “You security people will probably be as busy as we Guardians are for however long this thing lasts.”
“At least as busy,” Gard replied quietly, evidently speaking to Dax as much as to Keru. “If there’s another potential radical leader lurking among all the thousands of disappointed pre-joined initiates, we’ll have to work harder than ever to get out in front of the problem.” And with that, Gard bid the group good-bye and turned toward the turbolifts, presumably to apply himself to the arduous tasks that lay ahead. With no new joinings in the offing, Gard would have to seek his monsters and aberrations elsewhere.
Speaking to Dax, Keru said, “I’ve been told that the Senate has scheduled additional hearings into the symbiont/parasite affair and the bombings. They’ll start taking official testimony in a few weeks, after things settle down a bit.”
Dax nodded. “The original reason I came to Trill was to testify at those hearings. The Senate will probably want to ask me some follow-up questions. It looks like I’ll be coming back to the homeworld a lot sooner than I’d originally planned.”
“I’ve been asked to speak at the next round of hearings as well,” Keru said. “Maybe I’ll see you then. You can update me on everything that’s been happening in Starfleet since I left.” Then the big man made his farewells, leaving Dax and Julian standing alone together while office workers continued to arrive, dodging and weaving around them as they headed for the bank of turbolifts along the south wall.
As she watched Keru walk away, Dax’s thoughts turned to the thousands of eager young initiates from whom the bright prospect of symbiosis had been summarily withdrawn. Thanks to the memories of most of her symbiont’s previous hosts, she was well acquainted with the rigors of a Trill initiate’s life. Fair or not, each symbiosis candidate was subjected to a grueling winnowing process that culminated in joining only for a select few. Her symbiont retained the memories of each initiate who ultimately became its host, even though Ezri Tigan had never endured an initiate’s trials. Dax felt she understood the bitter taste of disappointment that every not-yet-joined initiate on the planet must be experiencing right now; she could never forget that Jadzia’s first application for joining had been torpedoed by no less a personage than Curzon himself. The experience had been absolutely ego-crushing.
How hopeless life must seem now for the initiates,she thought. Though Ezri Tigan had never desired joining herself, Ezri Dax now felt unutterably sad for those whose yearning for the completeness of symbiosis had abruptly come to nothing, as though the Symbiosis Evaluation Board had summarily declared everyapplicant to the program unfit.
Dax’s eyes followed Keru’s steps as he reached an exit on the far side of the lobby. As the Guardian disappeared from sight, it occurred to her that not everybody expected to benefit materially from an association with the symbionts. Unlike each year’s eager young crop of initiates—or unjoined malcontents like Verad Kalon—Keru and the other Guardians were content to give of themselves freely to assist the symbionts. And every member of the Guardian order was unjoined.
Maybe Trill’s best hope lies with people who have the strength to stand apart from whatever advantages symbiosis might offer them,she thought. People like Ranul Keru, or President Lirisse Durghan.
Or even Ezri Tigan, the person I used to be before Dax came along.
“Excuse me?” Julian said, his eyebrows buoyed by curiosity. Dax suddenly realized that she must have spoken at least part of her reverie aloud.
“I was starting to wonder,” she began, slightly flustered at having been caught woolgathering. “Would I have had the courage to give up my symbiont the way the president did?”
“The president probably worked hard for years to prove herself worthy of the Maz symbiont,” Julian pointed out. “Remember, you joined with the Dax symbiont initially because that was the only way to save its life.”
He just doesn’t get it,she thought. Aloud, she said, “Sure, I didn’t choose to be joined, but I’ve beenjoined for almost two years now. Ezri Tigan and Dax are a permanent part of one other now. And my life and career will never be the same again because of that. Ezri and Dax have made memories together that we’ll share for the rest of this lifetime. And Dax’s next hosts will be able to dip into my experiences the way I benefit from those of Curzon, or Torias, or Emony, or any of the others.”
He took her hand gently between both of his; he appeared to notice for the first time that she’d had her phaser burn treated at some point since leaving Mak’ala.
“Isn’t that the nature of symbiosis?” he said.
She pulled her hand away, gently but insistently. “Yes. It’s a wonderful thing that I didn’t even want at first. And now I get to keep it, even though none of the people who really dowant it get to join the club now.”
“I think I understand, Ezri. I believe you’re experiencing something called ‘survivor’s guilt.”’
“Thanks, Julian,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “But I ama trained counselor.”
“Then you should understand that plenty of others are now in the very same position you are,” he said, apparently unfazed by her irritation. “Every other joined Trill—”
She interrupted him. “Every other joined Trill is just running out the clock, as of this morning. And if this joining embargo goes on long enough, every last one of the remaining few hundred joined Trill hosts will die. Their symbionts will end up back in the pools, without any prospect of entering a new symbiosis. With no chance of regaining their eyes and ears and arms and legs. Maybe for decades, or centuries. And every humanoid on Trill will be cut off from everything the symbionts know. They might even forget why we bothered to join in the first place. Even people who revere memories can forget what’s important, Julian. Trust me, I know.”