Moving In

Posted on Sat 21st Dec, 2024 @ 8:28am by Commander Heriah Rex & Daeren Iril

3,805 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: The Phoenix Gamble
Location: XO's Quarters
Timeline: Current

"Energize," Heriah said. She stood in the open door to her quarters; the XO's quarters. In the open living space, the air lit up as a transporter beam came into existence. Her belongings were beamed directly from the cargo hold of the U.S.S. Eumenides into her quarters. There were a few cargo boxes emblazoned with the UFP logo and two Starfleet issued duffle bags.

'Should've set your junk up on the Eumenides like I said and have them beam it all over as it was set...'

'Rex, that takes away from the joy of starting anew.'

'It would've been easier, is all.'

'You're one to talk. Making our joining a nightmare.'

'From the second we were joined I knew you would be a complete bore.'

'And did I stay being a bore?'

'...no.'

'And I won't allow that to be the case here. No, shut up and help me get this room sorted.'

Heriah stepped forward away from the door. "Computer, keep the door open. Let this place air out a bit."

The computer bleeped its affirmation as she was outside the normal proximity for the door to slide closed. Heriah went to one of her duffle bags and started working it open.

Daeren Iril walked along the corridor leading to the Executive Officer's apartment. He had never been there before; most of his business was conducted during first shift, when the commanding officer of Starbase 109 and its XO would normally be at their duty stations. He had gotten word, though, that 109's newest XO was a joined member of his own species and that she had arrived today. He'd checked with the computer and learned that she was currently in her quarters.

He'd debated sending her a message to inform her that he was coming and then decided against it. This wasn't a formal visit, just a casual, new-neighbor drop-in. The formal visit could come later. He'd even brought lunch, as long as Heriah Rex wasn't a vegetarian.

He noticed the open door, which was an oddity on a Starfleet base. He had always thought it strange that Starfleet felt people shouldn't have to be bothered with opening doors. Daeren paused at the threshold and knocked. "Hello! Anyone home?" he called out in Trill.

The room looked as though someone had just started setting things up. Among the boxes and the two duffle bags, only one was empty, was the sitting area. There were two chairs and a vase atop the table. From out the vase stretched two Trill Lilacs. One was black and the other was red. The two symbolized the union of Trill host and Trill symbiont. Though there was a wide array of colors for the Joined Trill to choose from, the new individual generally chooses two colors, sometimes the same color for both lilacs, to give a base representation of who this Joined Trill was. In Heriah's case, she chose red and black.

A little commotion came from within the quarters. "Spah?," came a feminine voice speaking the Trill word for 'yes.'

Heriah stepped into his field of view. "Oh hello," she said excitedly and smiling. She was likewise holding a pair of mek'leths, one in each hand as though ready to simultaneously gut and decapitate an opponent. Her eyes widened as she caught the scent of, "Wild Trill Sabrebeast. Do I smell burgers made of the Wild Sabrebeast?"

"Good nose," Daeren said, impressed. "I was a bit concerned when I discovered the place was called Trill Burgers, but since the burgers aren't made of actual Trill...I warn you, they're generously portioned." He paused. "Forgive me for not introducing myself. I'm Daeren Iril, Consul General here for Trillius Prime. It is wonderful to see another Trill on the base. We don't get many."

"Believe me, I am just as excited," she said. "Oh, do come in," she waved him in with a mek'leth and then realized the weapons she was holding. "Oh, sorry," and she went to where she was originally, along the wall where a bat'leth was displayed and hanging. There were mounts for the two mek'leths. "Forgive the mess. I just arrived...literally." Heriah was placing the mek'leths in their places and eyeing the arrangement. "Please, set that down on the table there next to the lilacs. She stepped away from the display of Klingon weapons and turned her attention back to Daeren. "Heriah Khatain Rex," she said introducing herself, "Executive Officer for this starbase. Thank you, by the way. I haven't eaten much yet today."

'And nothing tames the beast like the meat of a sabrebeast.'

Heriah giggled, mostly at her being in agreement with Rex this time.

Daeren set the sack of burgers and fries on the kitchen table. "You're quite welcome. May I help at all? Moving's a pain if you have to do it by yourself."

'No. No help is needed.

"That would be great," Heriah said. "Any help would be appreciated. But first..." and she eyed the sabrebeast burgers, "let's eat."

"They are best when they're still warm," Daeren agreed. He reached into the paper sack and took from it two meal boxes, each containing a double-patty cheeseburger and fried potato sticks. Daeren's mouth watered at the aroma. "Anyway, welcome to Starbase 109. Where did you transfer from?"

"Outpost Talon," she said as she envisioned her own hands as talons while, unceremoniously, tearing into the paper wrapping of her burger. Heriah snatched it up and took a greedy bite. Chewing, she gave a nasal sigh of relief as she leaned back in her chair. "I served as Second Officer there, but had more duties that would resemble Executive Officer. I was also XO of the Tiger Claw, that was our Defiant Class vessel used for away missions." She picked up three of the potato sticks and shoved those into her mouth. Raising a hand to that to her mouth so she could speak again without showing much mouth mush, "I returned to the Academy after that to become fully certified as an Executive Officer. I still had a few credits before I could promote to Commander and keep it. But all that is behind me now. You?" she asked as she changed her focus back to her burger. Before taking another bite, "You gave a speech about," she sought the memory, "10 years ago, I believe, at the university on Trillius Prime. What's happened in the interim?"

"I've been here for a few years now, but before that, I was ambassador to Ferenginar." Daeren paused at mention of the lecture. "My God, you remember that?" he said.

He bit into his burger and thought a moment. "I can barely remember that. I was still assigned to Ferenginar at the time, giving a talk about the Ferengi economic system versus the Federation economic system and advocating for caution in Federation efforts to make the Ferengi system more like the Federation one." Daeren gave Heriah a mischievous look. "How long did you stay awake during the lecture?" He wiped burger grease from his fingers with his napkin as he chewed another bite of burger. "Oh, the fries come with dipping sauce." He pointed out a clear, lidded, plastic cup filled with a thick, blood-red substance.

Heriah did not hesitate to coat one of her fries in the blood-appearing goodness. "I stayed awake," she said, her eyes intrigued as a droplet of red attempted to form and fall free. She tongued it greedily and chomped down upon the French fry. "I was still a student at the university there; a senior. For my final socio-economics class, the students had to choose between four lectures given during that cycle. I chose your lecture. We had to write a paper about it later. So, I had to stay awake." She smiled at him, also mischievously. "I did have to fight against dozing, however. In my defense, your lecture happened after lunch." She went after her burger again.

"After lunch is the doom of every lecturer everywhere," Daeren agreed. He took a larger bite of his burger and smiled as he bit into the juicy patty coated in melted cheese and caramelized onions and chewed contentedly. "Fortunately, I don't have any meetings until later this afternoon, or I might embarrass myself." He looked back at Heriah. "Neither Iril nor I have ever met the Rex symbiont. How many hosts have you had?"

"I, uh..." Heriah was not really expecting a question such as that so soon after meeting the man. Joining among Trills was sometimes something of a private matter. Always taboo and private between joined and unjoined Trill. Not always among Joined Trills, however. They were generally more open about such things. Regarding Rex and his numerous hosts in such a short span of time, Heriah felt the narrative was a bit of an embarrassment. "I could tell you..."

'...but then I will have to kill you.'

Daeren snickered at the joke answer Heriah had implied.

Heriah pushed a lock of her hair over her ear. She did that more as a means to swipe away Rex's sudden and intrusive thoughts as she would swipe away an irritating fly. "...but I would need to consult the Symbiosis Commission regarding the Rex symbiont for accuracy."

'And then I will have to kill you.'

"In the past 30 years though," Heriah thought shortly, "I am...the...fifth host. It is a long story."

'Give him the short and not so sweet version. Rip that slug out of his chest. Watch him die, then gut the slug. Twice the death. Twice the reward.'

"A story," she broke in on Rex's thoughts, "I can tell later. Right now, I..." and she looked about her quarters and the still unopened boxes indicating the need to finish unpacking.

Daeren nodded. "Every symbiont has an extremely interesting story. I can wait to hear yours until you're ready to tell it." He glanced about the room and wiped burger grease off his hands again. He tossed his burger wrapping into the box and replaced their two meal boxes in the large paper sack, which he put in the recycler. "Yes, we do need to get to work. Where do you want to start?"

Heriah went to a framed painting leaning against the wall and started eyeing where to hang it. "Start with that box on top, in front of you," she said as she pointed. She went to a standardized picture that probably showed up in every room aboard the starbase. She removed it and started positioning her framed painting. It was entitled 'My Inner Struggle.'

Daeren opened the topmost box in front of him and set it on the dining table. His eyebrows quirked up as he glanced inside. The first item he removed was an animated image of Trillius Prime, slowly rotating about its axis in space. He set that out for Heriah to decide where to place. The next items he pulled out--reverently--were a pair of Andorian ushaan-tors, finely made. With them was another Andorian weapon, an ustoon-kor. The next item he removed, with some amusement, was a wax warmer with several disks of scented wax in different colors--and a looped bundle of...fairy lights?

It seemed clear that Heriah and Rex had wildly different personalities--but that was the beauty and the great adventure of joining, Daeren thought.

"Oh," Heriah appeared across the box from him, "This," she said as she lifted it carefully from the box, "is the Andorian Ustoon-kor. You really cannot see it, but the blade is serrated very finely. This is a centuries-old combat medical blade for performing amputations. You know...before the Andorians had regenerators. Supposedly, you can sever a limb with a single swing as long as you swing with a slight sawing motion." She inverted the weapon in her hand and held it behind her. "It has since become something of a ritual weapon, but the Andorians prefer those," she pointed with her free hand into the opened box, "ushaan-tors these days. Careful, those are sharp. There should be a stand lying beneath them." Heriah looked about the place. "Oh, where do you think they should go?"

"Someplace where they will be a dramatic center of attention, as they deserve to be," Daeren said. He set the pair of ushaan-tor blades on the table and pulled out the stand for them. Its wood was polished to a satiny sheen. He considered the stand. "I guess it depends on how much attention you want the weapons to draw. I'd put them in the center of a wall somewhere, or perhaps you'd rather put them in a corner or an alcove to form a sort of shrine area. They are gorgeous. Do you have other weapons besides these and your Klingon weapons?"

"No other weapons," she said as she dug into another box, "for the moment. And I don't want them displayed to look like any kind of shrine. Just on display is all. Along the wall is fine. Over by the Klingon weapons, please."

Heriah pulled out a bundle of clothing. First uniforms, then a bundle of civilian wear, about triple the size of the bundle of uniforms. Then came swimwear, sportswear, sleepwear as well as a various array of footwear. "I know what you are thinking. 'How many clothes does a woman need?' Believe me, I used to not be this bad."

'Oh you've always been this bad. Worse even.'

Heriah ignored Rex's intrusive thought and ventured, with arms full of clothes, to the bed. From the bundle, though, a small device fell therefrom, hit the floor, bounced and rolled toward Daeren's feet.

"I'm a diplomat," Daeren said as he set up the weapons stand where Heriah had indicated and placed the Andorian weapons on it. "I probably have at least as much clothing as you do." He picked up the little device that had rolled to his feet. "This fell while you were moving your clothes."

"What? Oh..." Heriah placed her bundle of clothes upon the bed in such a hurry that she might as well have dropped them there. "Oh, that is a monocorder." She went to Daeren to retrieve it. "Clever name, I know. Like a tricorder but meant for a singular function." She showed it to him as she placed it upon her finger. "Isoboramine levels," she said as the monocorder showed a green light. "That means all is well." She snatched it off her finger and went back to her bed, placing the monocorder on the nightstand. "I have this..."

'condition'

"...thing...where I cannot maintain adequate isoboramine levels all the time." Heriah shrugged and explained further. "This apparently effects Joined Trill in 1 in about 1000 Joinings. Every time we are joined with a symbiont, there is a 0.1% chance of acquiring this." Though she smiled, she said, "I drew the short straw, I guess."

"No, I drew the short straw. Shortest of them all, in fact.'

"But all is well as long as I keep this close by." Heriah stepped back over to her bags. "And this too." She pulled a hypospray from her luggage. "It's filled with benzocyatizine. That helps boost isoboramine production--for whenever that thing does not give me a green light."

'Wouldn't that be the day? It would be a better day when the lights go out.'

Heriah shook her head, throwing that intrusive thought away. "So what is the consul life like?" She went back to her pile of clothes and continued listening.

"Hm...In some ways, it's a great improvement over the ambassador life--less politics, more simply dealing with people and their problems," Daeren said. "I miss the politics, though, because it's interesting and difficult. Part of the difficulty arises when you absorb enough of your host culture that you begin to see things their way, when you're actually there to represent Federation culture and its interests to the host government. I sometimes felt as if I were walking a tightrope."

'You can forget me absorbing my host culture,' thought Rex, 'I dread the day of seeing things your way.'

"Yes," she responded as she took an armful of clothes to the closet to hang. "I understand the tightrope analogy. I mean, my joining with Rex was not a walk in the park."

'Yes it was...if that park was on fire...and you had to walk through it...barefoot.'

Seeing as how all Trill generally become joined only once, Heriah had no basis of comparison. She had no idea how Daeren's joining went. All the experience she had was her own. "Becoming one with Rex, becoming an individual, and performing the balancing act of my own will over his and his centuries of experience and knowledge felt more like I was standing on the precipice of..."

'...madness, violence, betrayal. If you had but fallen in.'

"...I think you know what I mean," she said as she turned to Daeren. "It takes a powerful will and a great mind to beat back against a wave of adversity, to hold your own, and to prevail. I feel we are, both of us, prime examples of our lives and professions. Assuredly, there is a wealth we can learn from each other."

Daeren nodded. "I agree, and I very much look forward to that learning, Heriah."

'He called you Heriah...and not Rex. I don't like him'

"Joining with Iril was awe-inspiring and fear inducing. I could not conceive that I was worthy of the experience or that I'd be able to bear the challenge it posed--but by that point, it was too late to go back. Ever since then, I've fought against a gnawing terror of falling asleep. I don't know what challenges your joining with Rex has posed, but I can see that the two of you are quite different, so I imagine it hasn't been easy."

'Easy is certainly not the word I would choose.'

"Easy is certainly not the word I would choose," she said.

'In fact, all I wanted was to sleep...and not wake up.'

"In fact, all I wanted was..." she coughed softly, "All I had ever wanted was to be joined. And, like you, I did not feel myself worthy or able to bear the weight of it all. As you say, at that point, it was too late to go back."

'Too late for both of us.'

"Rex...he has a past. A complicated one as much as I am sure Iril has." She went to another unopened box in the middle of the room and opened it. "Politician...consul...To be honest I was not sure what to make of you at first, Daeren. Those two words have always been something I would sooner avoid than invite into my quarters." She pulled a large pink plushy from the box. It was a plushy of the Trill Sabrebeast, a caricature of one at least, with large puppy eyes. "You make me glad I was wrong." She tossed it onto her bed and continued digging into the box. "A gnawing terror of falling asleep," she repeated the words to herself. "That is a first that I have heard. Rex..." she sought to explain it better, "...he actively tries to not remember some things from his past. We argue sometimes. It is like...we are joined...but mentally we are somehow separate...still...if that makes any sense."

Daeren blinked but didn't react in any other way. "That's a situation I've never heard of before--and part of me thinks it would be fascinating to be able to experience Iril as an individual being, even as another part of me sees no need for that because I'm already him. So Rex argues with you. Is he the one who likes all the weapons?"

"Hmm," hummed Heriah as she smiled. "Rex's three previous hosts were all weapons afficionados as well as military personnel. So," she looked at her arrangement of weapons, "it came natural it felt that I too would have such a desire. Believe me," she pointed about at her weapons collection, "this is but less than a tenth of what any of Rex's previous hosts had." She pulled several articles of fashion swimwear from the box. "Neither of them liked fashion though. So this is all me."

'Hey, blood can be fashionable. And he may not mind dying by your hand as long as you were wearing that. Or not wearing that if you know what I mean.'

"Yes," Heriah said, "I do know what you mean. That..." she turned to Daeren, focusing her attention on him as she went to put away her swimwear, "...that this is a situation you've not heard of before. Joining can produce different quirks in people from time to time, I suppose. This one is mine."

With those articles put away, she stood in place, looking about her quarters. The place was coming together. She nodded in acceptance.

"One of Iril's previous hosts was a comedian, so I tell jokes at odd moments," Daeren said. "Fortunately for you and Rex, this moment is not odd enough."

Heriah side-eyed Daeren; smiled. "You and Rex may be more alike than we know. Rex likes to push forth random thoughts at odd moments. Some are jokes..."

'Never are they jokes.'

"...and some more serious," she finished. Heriah stepped over toward him. "I thank you Daeren. For lunch, for helping me set this place up some, for this talk. I always enjoy the company of someone who understands. Oh...and, uh...truth be told. I used to be vegetarian, vegan actually."

'Praise to the Goddess I came along.'

"That was until I met..." and she placed her hands on her belly, finishing her thought. "I never imagined what I was missing. So, thank you again for lunch. Those burgers were exactly what I needed."

"They did hit the spot," Daeren said. "I enjoyed meeting you, as well. Please feel free to come by the consulate and visit when you like. There aren't nearly enough Trills on this station, joined or not. It's better than Ferenginar, but I still miss the sense of home."

 

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