Taes couldn’t remember the last time she had woken up in a prone position, face first on the floor.  She supposed it must have been that first tour on the USS Honne; her first mission as chief science officer, when orion rum had been the only thing that could quiet her paranoid mind before bed.  This was the first thought to pass through Taes’ mind.  That or the taste of stone dust on her lips.  Taes braced her palms against the ground.  She was surprised by how smooth the ground felt for carved stone.  Pressing herself up to a sitting position, Taes could see the underground cavern space had been constructed in a similar manner.  Flat walls and stone pillars, everything was carved at perfectly ninety-degree angles.  There was something familiar about the hieroglyphics etched onto the pillars; that memory came to her more easily than any memory about why she had woken up on the floor.

Just like her memory, Taes’ vision was clouded.  She recognized the haze all around her was a combination of stone dust and caustic smoke.  Taes coughed through the smoke and the coughing racked her body.  Taes felt strange.  Her ability for awareness felt muted.  Deltans weren’t fully telepathic like Betazoids, but Taes was accustomed to a sense of psionic empathy.  In this moment, her empathy felt entirely blind.  Fearing the worst, Taes assumed she must have sustained a head injury when whatever had happened to knock her unconscious.

“Lieutenant Rayco,” Taes called out for help.  Her voice sounded hoarse, deeper, and she coughed again.  Looking with only her eyes to guide her, Taes caught sight of the other Starfleet officers splayed out on the floor around her.  She tried to push herself up into a standing position, but her legs were too weak and they folded beneath her.  Probably a side-effect of the head trauma, Taes supposed.  She ordered, “Security analysis.  Is our position secure?”

The first movement Taes saw –other than her own– came from Science Officer Sootrah Yuulik.  After rolling onto her side, the Arcadian heaved herself into a half-sitting position.  Yuulik’s cognitive state appeared to be as fuzzy as Taes’ own, as she fumbled for the tricorder on her hip.  Since over-achieving Yuulik was taking it upon herself to scan for the away team’s security situation, perhaps she was in better condition than Taes after all.  Yuulik stabbed at the controls with her fingertips; a couple of times her fingernails connected with the metal casing, rather than the touchscreen interface.  Not long after the tricorder began to sing its comforting warble, Yuulik reported, “No sign of True Way pirates, captain.  No life signs around here, really, other than the away team.”

Like stubborn puzzle pieces interlocking in her mind, Taes remembered where she had seen the hieroglyphics before.  Camus II.  Taes remembered beaming down to the Starfleet archaeological excavation on Camus II.  What that meant elicited a desperate yelp from Taes.  The caverns on Camus II were rich with the radioactive element, celebium.  Cognitive decline was one of the first signs of radiation poisoning, Taes recalled.  Clearing her throat again, Teas asked, “Commander Holmgren, what’s the status of the celebium shielding?”  Lieutenant Commander Holmgren had served under Taes for years, back on Starbase 310, as her Head of Archaeology.  He had been the first person Taes had thought of when it had come time to select a Chief Science Officer.  In all their years of working together, Taes had never seen him this disoriented, not even that night on Risa.

“Jeffrey?” Taes called out to him again.  Jeffrey Holmgren was sitting with his back propped up against a slab of stone furniture.  His eyes offered no signs of recognition when Taes spoke.  Jeffrey was making entirely non-verbal vocalisations as he pulled open the front flap of his uniform.  He rubbed his palm down his chest and he stared at his own hand.  His brow furrowed, Jeffrey glared at his hand intently, as if the hand owed him money.

Ignoring him for that moment, Taes snapped her gaze in Yuulik’s direction.  Making eye-contact, Taes ordered, “Lieutenant, please tell me we have celebium shielding!”

Yuulik’s wide-set eyes appeared to bulge back at Taes in confusion.  “What’s that look for, captain?” Yuulik asked, her voice filled with self-doubt.  “I don’t know how celebium shielding works?”

All the while, Lieutenant Kellin Rayco had muscled his way to his feet.  The security chief’s movements were unsteady, as if he were suffering from vertigo.  He had been muttering things like, “What happened?” and, “I feel hideous,” while Taes struggled to pull answers from the science officers.  Popping up his own tricorder, Kellin reported, “The tantalum shielding in the walls is undamaged, captain, but two of the forcefield projectors in this chamber have been melted to slag.  Captain, radiation measurements are low.  We are in no danger from the celebium.”

“If it’s not the radiation…” Taes said, thinking aloud, “Doctor Nelli, can you examine the away team?”  Even as she said it, Taes recalled there was another protocol she was supposed to follow.  The words were on the tip of her tongue, but her diminished consciousness couldn’t quite grasp what else she was supposed to do.  Doctor Pimpinellifolia would have to be the best hope for Taes and the away team.

Across the chamber, Taes saw one of Doctor Nelli’s vines wiggling off the ground and Lieutenant Yuulik was crawling on her hands and knees towards them.  Taes cycled through the roll call in her head and she realised there was one last member of the away team who hadn’t checked in.  “Ensign Dolan,” Taes asked, “what is the status of the artefact?”  It wasn’t the most pressing concern, Taes reflected, but a call to duty often struck a primal chord in Starfleet officers when they were otherwise incapacitated.

“We need help,” Yuulik shouted back to the others.  “Nelli’s unconscious.  They’re having some kind of seizure.”  Yuulik pressed a steadying hand against the trunk of Pimpinellifolia’s body, but she recoiled her hand as if she’d touched something hot.  From that brief contact, Yuulik’s hand had become completely coated in a bile-coloured sap, leaking from Pimpinellifolia’s body.

“Ensign Dolan?” Taes called out again, when the ensign didn’t immediately make himself known.

“That isn’t funny, Dolan!” Kellin snapped at Taes.  He glared at her with daggers for eyes.  “This isn’t like you, ensign.  Now is no time for humour.”

Wincing, Taes said, “What did you–?” but her words trailed off.  Taes raised her hand to the level of her eyes.  Looking at her hand, she could see her skin wasn’t black.  Even more unexpectedly, her hands were webbed and, from the cuffs of her sleeves, she could see her forearm was covered in fine hairs.  Catching movement in her peripheral vision, Taes turned to another slab of stone furniture.  Taes saw herself — her own body– standing up from behind the slab.

Taes watched the other Taes say, “Bastard Starfleet recruiter promised me!  He promised me I wouldn’t get body swapped!” 

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 77159.3

 

“Our mission is to investigate an attack on Starfleet’s planetary defence system in orbit of Camus Two.  Tactical scans detected a Cardassian Hideki-class attack ship approaching the planet before that ship destroyed three of the sentry pods.  The USS Wakahiru-me has been ordered to divert its patrol through the Camus sector to defend us, in case we find more than one ship of True Way pirates waiting for us.  Our science teams will evaluate if Starfleet’s archaeological excavations have been disturbed by the pirates.  Our engineering team, meanwhile, will repair the planetary defenses that protect the ancient and dangerous technology that was discovered on the planet over a hundred years ago.  

 

“I have been honoured with a promotion to Captain, taking command of the science ship Dvorak, as part of the Fourth Fleet’s deep space operations in Task Force 17.  The Dvorak’s previous commanding officer, retired Captain Aloysius Sefton, has lovingly influenced my decision to keep his Commander Elbon Jakkelb aboard as my first officer.  Elbon knows this ship down to the bolts after overseeing its refit and shakedown cruise.  I will be relying on the bonds he’d built with every member of her crew who will be continuing on these voyages with me.  

 

“For my Chief Science Officer, I’ve tempted Lieutenant Commander Jeffrey Holmgren away from Starbase 310, where we worked together closely for five years.  I can’t think of anyone I trust more to lead our expansive science department, including every scientific discipline for both our crew missions and independent research.  Despite that breadth of capability, our mission module remains configured for our specialty in archaeology and anthropology.  The Springfield-class Dvorak is an older sister to the Galaxy-class starship.  While her systems aren’t on the cutting edge of technological advancement, her scientific capabilities include both planetary and stellar surveys, and she brings with her a classic comfort for exploration that I used to read about, before my time in Starfleet.

 

“As for my senior staff, I assembled the young officers I have been mentoring aboard Starbase 72 and the USS Nestus.  …And Yuulik is here too.  Although they haven’t bonded as a team, and discipline isn’t among their fortes, their ambition and raw talent are unparalleled among the teams I’ve led in the past.  I can work with that.  They can learn the rest, given time.”

*   *   *

Despite USS Dvorak‘s recent refit, the previous captain had maintained all of the classic interior design for the Springfield-class ready room.  Between the salmon-coloured wall panels, the red carpeting, and the woodgrain accents, Taes had hoped this space would remind her how the purpose of her ready room wasn’t for tactical analysis.  This ready room would be a refuge from the bridge; a space for heightened reflection.  Watching her last captain’s log back, this hadn’t been the reflection Taes had in mind.

Displayed on a desktop computer console, the recording of Captain Taes from a couple of days ago said, “I can work with that.  They can learn the rest, given time.”  Captain Taes herself was now seated behind the desk in her new ready room.  Taes touched the display screen with the pads of her fingertips.  She traced the shape of her face, her high cheekbones, her Deltan features, like the bald scalp.  When the captain’s log ended, the screen went blank.  The way the light reflected on the console, Taes could see her current reflection in the shiny black polymer of the display.  It was the youthful face of Ensign Melchor Dolan that looked back at her in the reflection.  Their fateful away mission to evaluate the archaeological dig had left Taes inhabiting the body of Ensign Dolan.

The way those alien eyes looked back at her left Taes feeling unsettled.  The brown of the irises were so much like her own, and yet her nervous system screamed at her to be alert.  Primal instincts within her told her those eyes belonged to another.

That thought was interrupted by the computer chirp that signaled an intraship communication.  “Doctor Nelli to Taes,” said the disembodied voice of Doctor Pimpinellifolia.  Despite how they had identified themselves, Nelli wasn’t speaking in their usual melodic monotone.  All Taes could hear was the baritone voice of Jeffrey Holmgren.

“Taes here,” she replied.  Taes closed her eyes and tilted her head back, fearful of what Doctor Nelli’s news would bring.  Irregardless of any other matter, Taes asked, “How’s Jeffrey doing?”

Nelli responded, “Commander Holmgren remains in a lack of consciousness, Captain.  He is, otherwise, responding well to treatment.  His other vital signs –my vital signs?– have stabilised.”  Nelli’s discomfort at their own transformation even sounded like Jeffrey.  For half a second, Taes wondered at what a study this could feed: how much of themselves remained in their bodies when their minds had been shifted elsewhere?

“Thank you, doctor,” Taes said, quickly moving on to her second thought.  “Please keep me updated if his condition changes, even a little.”  After Taes and Nelli offered each other hollow pleasantries, Taes closed the communications channel.

Taes opened her eyes and she fixed her gaze on her desktop console.  “Computer, play it again,” Taes said sharply.  Although there were still echoes of her Deltan accent in the way she pronounced her words, her voice came out in the soothing tones of Ensign Dolan’s voice.

On the console, Captain Taes appeared again in her red-shouldered uniform, staring directly into the visual sensor.  “Our mission is to investigate an attack on Starfleet’s planetary defence systems in orbit of Camus Two,” said the recording of Captain Taes.

Speaking to the face on the console, Taes said, “This is a simple mission.  You should be able to handle this…”  Her voice remained hard, a tenor used to demand obedience.  She waggled a finger at the recording, asking, “Why did your voice quaver right there?  And that manic glint behind your eyes…?”  

Taes swatted at the desktop console and it tumbled back, falling off the edge of her desk.  Through Dolan’s face, Taes sneered.  “You’re not yourself.”

“You’re all going to have to change into appropriate uniforms, if we can’t fix this quickly,” he said.  His eyes closed, Commander Elbon Jakkelb pinched the ridges on his nose and he breathed out a weary sigh.  He made no effort to hide his crankiness at this situation.  This sort of thing had never happened under the command of Captain Sefton.  Opening his eyes again, the Bajoran executive officer made eye-contact with every member of the away team who was now seated with him around the table in the observation lounge.  When his blue-eyed gaze finally landed on Kellin Rayco, Elbon put a hand over his own mouth to stifle a frustrated laugh.  “This is going to get too confusing,” Elbon remarked.

Shaking his head, Elbon swept a hand to indicate Lieutenant Junior Grade Leander Nune.  Like Elbon himself, the chief engineer was one member of the senior staff who hadn’t beamed down to Camus II.  “I’m sorry to ask this of you, Lieutenant…” Elbon said.

Elbon didn’t have to finish the question.  As a Betazoid, Nune clearly understand what was being asked of him, and it wasn’t his engineering expertise.  “From what I can sense, from what you all fervently believe,” Nune tentatively said, and he began pointing them out: “Kellin Rayco is inhabiting Yuulik’s body, Sootrah Yuulik is inhabiting Rayco’s body, Melchor Dolan is inhabiting Captain Taes’ body, and Captain Taes is inhabiting Dolan’s body.”

As Nune said those final words, Taes strolled Dolan’s body into the observation lounge from the bridge.  Taes smiled sheepishly at the looks she received from her senior staff, but that didn’t stop her from chewing on a bite of the chocolate bar in her hand.

“Doctor Pimpinellifolia is inhabiting Holmgren’s body in sickbay, and I would presume,” Nune said, “Jeffrey Holmgren is inhabiting Pimpinellifolia’s body, but my telepathic abilities can make no sense of Phylosian minds.  Doctor Nelli’s thoughts seem clearer to me now in Holmgren’s head.”

Commander Elbon watched as Taes sat herself at the opposite end of the table from him.  He breathed out a huff through his nose.  Taes didn’t appear to take notice of him; she just continued to eat her chocolate bar.  Elbon raised his eyebrows at Taes and then he lightly dropped his palm on the reflective surface of the conference table.

At that, Taes met Elbon’s eyes.  Taes had taken command a few days ago and Elbon had only met the woman a few weeks prior to that.  He didn’t know her well, but he trusted his judgment of most people.  Those skills had served him well as a ranjen and as a Starfleet counselor.  He needed them all the more as this crew’s first officer, here and now.  Elbon searched Dolan’s eyes, looking for some hint that Taes was really in there.  He looked for the aloof grace she chose to show to most people and he looked for the voracious curiosity he could notice in her eyes when she thought no one was looking.  He looked, and he looked, and all he saw was panic.

Taes’ body language, however, remained aloof.  She shrugged at Elbon and she asked, “What?  Why are you looking at me like that?”

Elbon’s face felt hot immediately.  He had words he wanted to say in response to Taes’ apparent disinterest, especially while she sat there with Dolan’s ensign pips, but he could feel the senior staff’s eyes all on him.  They were watching him and, he assumed, assessing how he responded to their transformed captain.  Elbon cleared his throat and he pleasantly suggested, “Would you like to begin, captain?”

Shaking her head once, Taes offered Elbon a thoughtful frown.  “You’re doing great, commander,” Taes said.  “Go on.”

“All right,” Elbon said energetically.  He could only hope none of them could hear his mental eye-roll.  Clapping his hands together, Elbon said, “Lieutenant Yuulik.  While Holmgren is in sickbay, you’re my acting science chief.  Tell me: how is any of this possible?”

In Kellin’s body, Yuulik tapped a control pad set into the tabletop.  She activated an LCARS panel behind Captain Taes, displaying the ancient ruins in the caverns beneath Camus II, where the away team had experienced their body swaps.  The image featured a stone wall of hieroglyphics that had been carved into the slabs of stone.  Behind the carvings, patterns of light blinked from ancient mechanisms.  

“From 2267 to 2269, Doctor Janice Lester led an archaeological expedition to the ruins on Camus II,” Yuulik said.  Through the lounge’s angled viewports, Yuulik looked out on the planet’s sickly yellow hue and its dazzling rings.  That look lasted less than a second and she dropped her gaze down to her PADD again.  “There has been no civilization, no life, on Camus II for thousands of years.  Beneath the surface, Doctor Lester discovered a mechanical device that had been long abandoned and forgotten.  The device proved capable of complete life-entity transfer when Doctor Lester tested her theories by body swapping with a starship captain and attempting to steal his starship.”

If Kellin had been behind the helm of his own body, Elbon would have swore that Kellin was angry with him.  With Yuulik in Kellin’s body, her shoulders were high and tight and her eyes remained on her PADD.  Kellin would have been looking at every member of the senior staff, taking in how the information was being received.

“Recognizing the danger of a life-entity transfer machine,” Yuulik continued, “Starfleet quarantined Camus II and installed a planetary defense system.  While Starfleet has allowed occasional archaeological surveys to be completed by the USS Singer, the USS Enterprise-D, and the Daystrom Institute, I’m not aware of the transfer machine being used again until now.”

“Thank you, lieutenant,” Elbon said, offering a satisfied nod at Yuulik.  Turning his gaze to Yuulik’s own body, Elbon asked, “Lieutenant Rayco, what’s your risk assessment of the True Way pirates who broke through the defense systems?  The USS Wakahiru-me is still six hours away if we need back up.”

In Yuulik’s body, Kellin said, “We’ve located no lifesigns on the planet and no trace of the Hideki attack ship in the system, commander.  We’ve detected ion trails coming into, and leaving, the Camus system.  The radiation signatures suggest it was the same Cardassian ship.  We should be alone here for now.”

Elbon gave Kellin a nod, but he couldn’t look Kellin in the eyes.  He couldn’t imagine what he would see in Yuulik’s Arcadian visage and he was too afraid to find out.  Looking to the two science officers at the table, Elbon asked, “That means we have time to reverse the life-entity transfer ourselves then?”

In Taes’ body, Dolan shook his head.  The staff archaeologist said, “The device was already damaged when we beamed down to the excavation site.  Half of its facing was shattered and we could find none of the control panels referenced in Doctor Lester’s research.  We expect that’s why it caused the life-energy transfer between so many of us unexpectedly.”

Dolan looked over at Yuulik for confirmation and Yuulik only cringed at him.  To Elbon it appeared a faint confirmation of what Dolan was saying, while also communicating that she would never have phrased any of it that way.  The classical saying: no one says that, but yes.

“We don’t know if the Cardassians were trying to operate the device, or steal its components,” Dolan continued, “or if they damaged it accidentally when they were blasting through the shields around the chamber.  We can only surmise it was overheating and internally unstable when we arrived.”

As if she couldn’t possibly wait a moment more, Yuulik cut in with, “According to Doctor Lester’s research, the body swap was temporary.  She reports feelings of being psychically called back into her own body.  There are further reports of the life-energy transfer being reversed without the use of the machine.”

“I read that too…” Taes said vaguely.  Taes’ sense of concern was etched across Dolan’s face, and her gaze was unfocused.  “We may only have a few hours like this, perhaps a day…”  Taes braced her palms against the table’s edge and pushed her chair back.  She rose to her feet with an urgency she hadn’t demonstrated for one moment since sauntering into the observation lounge.

Elbon watched Taes rise.  “What are your orders, captain?” he said, anticipating she was about to walk away without saying anything more.  Despite his worries, he spoke evenly, trying not to make it sound like a leading question.

“I dunno,” Taes said, raising Dolan’s webbed hands defensively.  “I’m not the captain.  I’m only an ensign,” she said.  To Elbon’s ears, there was something theatrical about the way she said those words.  He heard a flare of artifice, and yet desperate certainty too.  “Captain Taes is in command of Dvorak,” she said, pointing to Ensign Dolan inhabiting her own body.

Dolan laughed nervously at that.  It was a nasal sound, coming from high in his chest.  Dolan remarked, “I only fully learned what hailing frequencies were three weeks ago.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Taes replied nonsensically and she saluted Dolan.  After spinning on her heel, Taes scampered down the ramp, out of the observation lounge.

Elbon looked Dolan in the eyes –looked right at him– and he said, “So we’re clear, ensign, I have the conn.”

Dolan repeated the earworm, “Aye aye,” and then blinked and quickly corrected himself with a, “Yes, sir.”

Looking to the others, Elbon said, “Yuulik, Nune, you’re sending an away team to the planet’s surface.  Whether this condition is temporary or not, you’re going to fix the life-energy transfer device.  By the prophets, we’re going to leave the planet in the same condition we found it.”

“With all due respect, commander,” Yuulik said those passive-aggressive words Elbon never imagined he would hear coming out of Kellin’s mouth.  “Our capability to repair this ancient machine is comical at best,” Yuulik said.  “By all of our science, this kind of mind transfer is barely possible theoretically.  Worse, the technology developed on Camus Two doesn’t even slightly resemble the theories formulated by the best minds in the Federation.  Up here, these are not the best minds in the Federation.  That thing, down there, is magic.”

“I didn’t think Yuulik believed in magic,” Kellin said from Yuulik’s body.

“I don’t,” Yuulik said back to Kellin dryly.  “Not literally.  In this scenario, we’re like microbes trying to operate a PADD.  It might as well be magic.”  She turned her gaze to Elbon and she added, “Speaking of microbes, is it time to discuss if Captain Taes is mentally fit to remain in command of Dvorak.  The Deltan capacity for perception, cognition, communication are… complex.  No offense to Ensign Dolan, but I don’t know that Zaldan brain architecture has all the components of Captain Taes’ usual capacity.  She must be deeply disoriented by this experience.”

Elbon didn’t hesitate to defend his captain, even if she’d been his captain for less than a week.  Captain Aloysius had vouched for her and that was good enough for him.  Speaking slowly, and enunciating every word, Elbon told Yuulik, “Taes is having a perfectly natural emotional reaction to losing her bodily integrity.  I might be more surprised if she weren’t having an emotional reaction.  There are no discussions about relieving Taes from command, and even if there were, you wouldn’t be at the table, Lieutenant Yuulik.  Some might point out that Arcadian brain function is also theoretically incompatible with Trill biology.”

“Wait,” Kellin interjected urgently, “if Captain Taes isn’t the captain, am I still Kellin?  Or do I have to be Yuulik now?  Am I supposed to start fighting with everybody?”

Looking down at their own body on the biobed, Doctor Pimpinellifolia wondered what it all meant.  As a victim of ancient and weird science, Nelli’s consciousness had been relocated into the body of science chief Jeffrey Holmgren.  By looking through Jeffrey’s human eyes, Doctor Nelli saw their own body from a completely new perspective.  Their flora form looked terribly frail, practically held together by the surgical support frame.  The Phylosian’s plant body lay still and silent.  Their foliage was hanging limp, rather than the sensual rustle that was so common in their vitality.  The sharp beeping of the biofunction monitor provided Nelli the only reassurance their body was still alive.

As much as Nelli took notice of that thought, it wasn’t accompanied by any flush of emotion.  It was simply more data to consider.  They spent approximately ninety seconds trying to imagine what Jeffrey might feel, if he were looking up at his own body, while his consciousness was trapped in Nelli’s immobilised form.  Those ninety seconds was not time well spent.  Nelli did not have enough data about Jeffrey’s personality and was not able to reach any conclusions on what he might feel, or what she was supposed to feel.  Nelli’s attention wandered, and their gaze moved on to the alphanumeric codes ascribed to each of the colour blocks in the biobed’s LCARS interface.  Nelli’s own eye stalks had never been able to perceive those words clearly before.  All of the panels in Sickbay were augmented with increased auditory and haptic feedback for Nelli’s benefit.

Startled by a whooshing sound behind them, Nelli turned to examine the source of the noise.  They wobbled as they turned around, still unaccustomed to balancing on only two legs for mobility.  Through the open doorway, Nelli saw a man walk into Sickbay.  They knew him as the narrow-faced man who wore red petals on his shoulders: Commander Elbon Jakkelb.  Only with human vision could Nelli see the Bajoran ridges on his nose, fine lines of age on his face, and the dangling earring attached to one ear.  They could see more clearly that instead of petals, Elbon was actually wearing replicated plant-corpses that had been mutilated with pigment and stitched together into body coverings that indicated membership in a club: a Starfleet uniform.

“Can you tell me the status of our patient, doctor?” Elbon asked.

The one who followed Elbon into Sickbay was the tall one, with curly trichomes up top, whom Nelli had nicknamed Ginger Saxifrage.  Nelli took great pleasure in listening to Kellin’s voice.  Even to their senses, Kellin’s timbre was melodious.  Kellin’s voice was delicate, like the Purple Saxifrage of earth.  Similar to those flowers that could flourish in tundra, Kellin’s body was hardy.  Nelli estimated he could survive great illness or trauma, if they ever found him on a biobed.

The body of Kellin asked Elbon, “Do you always breathe so heavily, commander?”  On this day, Kellin’s voice was neither melodious nor fragile.  That voice sounded like the bleating of a goat.  Kellin had also experienced a body swap, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Sootrah Yuulik was the one inhabiting his body.  To signal this, Kellin’s body was dressed in the Starfleet science uniform that looked like it was adorned with teal petals on the shoulders.

“The patient, doctor?” Elbon repeated.

As Elbon had done, Nelli referred to the body on the biobed as the patient.  They could not determine if it was more appropriate to refer to its mind as Holmgren or its body as Pimpinellifolia.  “The patient’s neurological function has presented as disordered since beaming back from the planet.  Through treatment, I stabilized the erratic nervous system.  All other health functions have returned to normal, except for consciousness.”

As Yuulik and Elbon circled the biobed with Nelli, Yuulik tapped the settings on the biofunction monitor to lower the device’s volume.  She didn’t even regard Nelli as she made the change, and the beeping turned softer immediately.

“When will they wake up?” Yuulik asked.

“Uncertain,” Nelli replied.  They looked to the biofunction monitor and the measurements reduced again.  “Neurotransmitter activity is dropping.  The function of the patient’s autonomic systems is in jeopardy.  I have collected many samples and sensor scans for further analysis.  Presently, I will transfer the patient to stasis, in hope of preventing further depletion.”

When Elbon made eye-contact with Nelli, Nelli was struck by how the blue of his eyes reminded them of lightning at night.  “Your reaction to the body swap has been so different to Jeffrey’s…” Elbon said.  Nelli suspected there was additional meaning to Elbon’s question and yet the social cues escaped them.

“I regret we find ourselves in this situation,” Nelli said.  “Too, I like the taste of regret.  I joined Starfleet for this kind of surprise.  I never before experienced anything this consciousness-expanding.” –Nelli intended every myriad meaning to that phrase– “Your forms of life are mysteriously alien.  I must journal every breath I take in this form, every sensation.  It could offer much knowledge to Phylosian diplomacy with other forms of life.”

Elbon’s eyes went on the down, regarding Jeffrey in Pimpinellifolia’s body.  “You got the better deal,” Elbon said.

Nelli didn’t know what to say to that.  Filling the silence, Yuulik appeared to recognise Nelli’s uncertainty, and she explained, “Holmgren is trapped in a labyrinth he can’t even comprehend and you want to use your privilege to publish an article.”  For a moment, Yuulik approached Kellin’s melodious voice, when she said, “You’re a being after my own heart.”

“Lieutenant,” Elbon sternly said.  “Jeffrey has a wife and daughters on Starbase 310.”

Starfleet Academy had been Nelli’s introduction to the types of family units Elbon described.  Nelli recalled a lecture on the matter, asking, “Does Starfleet not train its young to prepare for death?”

With both hands, Elbon clasped one of the limp vines protruding from Pimpinellifolia’s body.  He didn’t look up.  Elbon said, “Death might have been better.”

*   *   *

After Jeffrey had been transferred to a stasis unit, Yuulik requested a medical examination from Nelli to better understand the body swap.  Perplexed by the strange digits of Jeffrey’s hand, Nelli dropped the medical tricorder a couple of times as they approached Yuulik’s biobed.  Eventually, Nelli trained the full sensor capabilities of the medical tricorder and the overhead sensor cluster on Yuulik’s brain.

“Kellin’s biological sensitivities are giving me a headache,” Yuulik reported.  “I knew he was a simp for authority figures, but this is another level.”  The face of Kellin Rayco contorted in one of the shapes Nelli had been trained to recognize as level three discomfort.  “The– the lights are too bright, the sound of the life support systems is deafening, and I’m hungry all of the time.”  Somehow, Yuulik managed to fit three syllables into the word hungry.  Spinning her head to Commander Elbon, Yuulik added, “Not to mention you.  Every time you look at me gives me a different type of heart palpitations.  And you’re not even my type.”

Nelli noticed a slight discomfort on Elbon’s face –only level one– and then they remembered that Elbon had not been body swapped.  It was curious.  Discarding that thought, Nelli considered Yuulik’s experiences in concert with the sensor data on their tricorder.

“The Trill cerebral cortex has a parietal lobe,” Nelli said, “that maps the body very precisely.  The signals from Kellin’s sensory processing would not match what you’re accustomed to in your own brain, Lieutenant Yuulik.”

Elbon said, “That presumes the mind and the brain can truly exist as separate entities.  Starfleet’s monistic stance has always been that the brain itself creates the mind.”

Yuulik recited, “A separated mind is unobservable without a brain.  Therefore a separate mind cannot exist.”

“To your point, doctor,” Elbon went on, “the brain changes over time in reaction to its lived experiences.  Our memories leave a mark on us.  The way we use our cognition and our bodies makes our brains react differently.”  At that, Elbon looked at Yuulik, but he didn’t look her in the eyes.  “You may find yourself without the motor skills, or the muscle memory, you normally rely on.”

Yuulik raised her hands and folded her fingers together in a gesture Nelli had seen performed by cadets at the academy.  Yuulik was miming a finger pistol and pretending to shoot at the freestanding console across Sickbay.  “But maybe my phaser aim is going to be killer in Kellin’s body,” Yuulik said.

Taking a step back, Elbon posited, “Commander Holmgren would have been able to repair the life-entity transfer machine on the planet’s surface.  His thesis was on ancient tech.  He… he laughed at the impossible odds of us finding this kind of machinery in any kind of working order.  The destruction of civilizations doesn’t usually overlook wildly dangerous technology.”  Elbon paused significantly.  “Yuulik, can you and your team fix the machine? Taes told me your ego is larger than our saucer section.  I don’t understand why you were equivocating earlier.  I need to know, right now, if we need to call for help.  I need to know, right now, if Yuulik’s mind exists without her brain.”

“Taes was Holmgren’s mentor, commander,” Yuulik spat back at him.  “Shouldn’t you be asking her?”

Lieutenant Junior Grade Yuulik waved her tricorder, vaguely, in the direction of the life-entity transfer device.  For all the ancient artefact’s import, the sensor readings on the tricorder couldn’t hold her attention.  After her own life-entity had been transferred into the body of Kellin Rayco, Yuulik had prided herself on how quickly she was adjusting to walking in his larger body.  Frankly, she had been the very first among the away team to learn how to walk without looking like a drunken sailor.  She had changed into a science teal uniform that fit Kellin’s body in a vain attempt to feel more like herself.  Before beaming down to the archaeological site on Camus II, she had also applied cosmetics that matched Kellin’s skin tone and flattened Kellin’s hair in a middle-part to evoke the symmetrical stripes of her own body’s hair.

Unlike the fine motor control, Yuulik continued to be confounded and disoriented by the visual and auditory information she was receiving through Kellin’s eyes and ears.  There was something about the visual spectrum Kellin’s Trill eyes perceived that was different from her own Arcadian biology, and yet she couldn’t quite describe the difference in words.  It was like that ancient thought experiment, questioning if any two sentient beings could confirm they both saw the colour teal as, objectively, the same colour.  Any descriptors they might use to describe the colour would always be relative to their own experiences.

It was through Kellin’s eyes that Yuulik found the life-entity transfer device far more fascinating.  Despite the way its mind-transfer abilities outstripped modern technology, the construction looked far older than the remains of structures left behind by the extinct people of Camus II.  The platform, and the stone facing against the wall, looked to be haphazardly carved out of rock; however, the composition of the stone was unlike any of the other materials in the caverns.  The differences looked all the more stark through Kellin’s eyes.  Large chunks of stone had crumbled from the device in the damage sustained before Dvorak’s arrival, and half of the hieroglyphic light elements were spitting sparks from further unseen damage.

Entering from a side chamber, Ensign Melchor Dolan closed the distance between him and Yuulik.  Given Dolan was inhabiting the body of Captain Taes, Yuulik withheld a flinch at his arrival.  Dolan’s gait was nothing like Taes’ gait; looking at him was like looking at some evil alternate universe doppelgänger.  “The other away teams have checked in, lieutenant,” Dolan reported.  He shook his bald head.  “We can find no remnants of the control panels Doctor Lester wrote about using to operate the device.  The Cardassians may have taken the control panels when they left or they were destroyed in the effort.”

Leander Nune padded cautiously towards the life-entity transfer device, brandishing his tricorder like a talisman.  The engineer gestured at a chunk of the stone facing that had been crumbled or removed.  “Doctor Lester’s notes say one of the control panels was here,” Nune said.  He frowned at his tricorder and he gave it a little shake. “I can find no evidence of what it was supposed to control.  There are no wires or crystals or fluid in the rock, nothing that would have transmitted instructions from the control panel.  I’m picking up no wireless transmissions either.”

“Between the tantalum shielding and the celebium radiation beyond,” Yuulik said, “I’m not surprised.”

“Then how are we going to operate the mechanism if it’s nothing but stone?” Nune asked.  “How can we get the engine started again?”

*   *   *

“I respect you too much to prevaricate, ensign,” was the first thing Captain Taes said when she came face to face with herself.  After the away teams had returned home, Taes had located Melchor Dolan sitting at the bar in the Orchestra Pit lounge.  Since their body swap, Melchor had changed out of the captain’s uniform and swapped into a uniform that better reflected his position as a staff archaeologist.  Captain Taes, meanwhile, hadn’t changed out of Dolan’s own science uniform since she had started wearing his body.

Taes made eye contact with Dolan, which was terribly disorienting because she could recognize those eyes as being her own eyes.  It was like she was staring in a mirror, asking permission from herself to behave badly.  No matter the discomfort, she wouldn’t be dissuaded from her mission.  She couldn’t think about much anything else.  Her mission would be all the easier given Dolan’s prototypical Zaldan brutal honesty.  Taes perched herself on the barstool beside Dolan and she crossed her legs.  She asked, “Melchor, can I have your consent to proposition Leander Nune?”

Dolan reacted with a rictus grin expression that Taes hoped she had never, in her entire life, made with her own face.  Dolan looked away.  He searched the room with his eyes, eventually spotting Leander Nune sitting alone at a table beside a viewport.  Returning his gaze to Taes, Dolan assumed a befuddled expression that looked more familiar to Taes.  “Why are you asking me, captain?” Dolan asked.

A little stridently, Taes replied, “I would never seriously consider it without your consent.”

“My–” Dolan started to say until the satisfaction of understanding dawned across his face, Taes’ face.  “You,” Dolan said, pointing at Taes, “want Nune,” he said, pointing at Nune, “to spend the night with me,” and he pointed at Taes again.

Her expression placid, Taes nodded once.

A quick laugh escaped Dolan, from deep in the diaphragm.  “I don’t know how to feel about that, captain,” Dolan said, his eyes widening.  He took a swig from his tumbler, and he took another.  “I’m equal parts shocked and disgusted and aroused and afraid.”  Dolan shook his head and he asked, “That must be inappropriate for a captain to do, no?”

Taes wasn’t shocked by Dolan’s reaction.  Her pleasant facial expression didn’t move a millimetre.  In fact, she had been prepared for this.  Taes said, “I’ll admit, a Captain fraternising with a crew member is morally complicated, but it’s not absolutely forbidden.  There are no regulations against it.”  Taes snatched up Dolan’s drink and took a swig for herself.  After giving the glass back, Taes touched the single pip on the collar of the uniform she was wearing.  She said, “In any case, I’m not the captain.  I’m an ensign, don’t you see?”

Dolan shot her a dubious expression at that.

“I can’t imagine,” Taes supposed, “you’ll ever remember what happened.”

Dolan’s expression changed.  Taes didn’t recognize that look on her own face.  Dolan asked, “Are you sure about that?”

*   *   *

“I respect you too much to prevaricate, lieutenant,” was the first thing Captain Taes said to Leander Nune when she slinked into the chair opposite him.  “And frankly, I probably don’t have the time for niceties.”  

As Taes settled into seat, her knees touched Nune’s knees under the table.  At that slight moment of contact, Taes could feel her heart-rate rising rapidly.  Nune had never elicited such a primal reaction in Taes’ own body, but she would be lying to herself if she believed she had never noticed how neatly he maintained his beard and fingernails.  Now in Dolan’s body, Taes’ physical reactions to Nune had become all the more intense.  By her reckoning, Nune possessed a curious mind, a chiselled jawline, a passion for life, and he always watched out for Kellin with such deep care.  Taes hadn’t been able to stop imagining a moment like this since she had locked eyes with Nune in the observation lounge.  Feeling lightheaded and giddy, Taes started to giggle.

Nune narrowed his eyes on Taes; his black irises cutting right through the heart of her.  Taes could imagine his Betazoid senses were picking up on her erratic emotional reactions.  Nune didn’t appear afraid of whatever he was sensing, because one corner of his lips curled up into a curious smile.  “I appreciate that, captain,” Nune said.

“You may not,” Taes said, tentatively.  She sad back in her chair.  The two of them were positioned beside one of the floor-to-ceiling viewports and she hoped the starlight made Dolan’s skin glow.  Taes didn’t leave Nune in suspense for another moment longer, when she said, “I’d like you to be my boyfriend for one night.”

“Huh,” was all Nune said at first, but Taes could imagine the gears turning behind his eyes.  Nune leaned forward and he rest his chin on his fist.  He kept looking at Taes, looked right at her.  Nune asked, “Would this be a double-date with your Oath of Celibacy?”

Taes responded in hushed tones, like she was talking about the tooth fairy while the children were out of earshot.  “The oath exists, largely, as a biological protection for humans and their ilk.   Betazoids aren’t as vulnerable,” Taes said.  “Besides, the exact language in the oath speaks about my body.  But this body has no such restraints.  Have you really… never… thought about this body?”

“It’s hard to say,” Nune replied evasively.  He leaned back in his chair, looking Taes up and down, as if for the first time.  Nune pursed his lips and then he said, “Dolan wears a uniform two sizes too large.”

Taes felt a sting of embarrassment flash through her.  Of course, a heartbeat later, she was dizzied by the idea of being rejected while inhabiting someone else’s body.  Why should it matter, Taes wondered, what Nune thought of Dolan?  Even so, she didn’t let it drop.  “Does that mean,” Taes asked, “you’ve never thought about it?”

Nursing his drink, Nune took some time to consider that question.  As lost as he became in thought, Nune never looked away from Taes.  “We’ve shared equipment at the gym on SB-72; we’ve shared a drink or two,” Nune admitted.  

Taes asked the question, as much as she made the suggestion, “You’ve never wanted anything more?”

Nune sighed a sigh of radical acceptance.  “I’ve never held his attention for very long,” Nune said, and he said it as a matter of fact.  “Since New Tenar, Dolan has become preoccupied with Trill spots.”

Catching Nune’s meaning, Taes rolled her eyes.  “And heaving pecs, I’m sure,” she said knowingly.  During the long humid days of the archaeological dig on New Tenar, Kellin Rayco had always been the first to take off his uniform tunic and offer to carry away refuse that was in the path of the science officers.  He had a certain reputation among the crew now too, after he had stood up to Yuulik’s Machiavellian leadership style.  Kellin had always been open with Taes about flitting in and out of several overlapping relationships in the short months Taes had known him, but she had never heard him mention Dolan.  

Taes laid a hand atop Nune’s hand on the table, and she stroked his wrist with her thumb.  “If I’m honest with you,” Taes said, “this Dolan is preoccupied with you.”

“Is that wise, captain?” Nune asked, and he said it like a question.  There was no implication in his timbre of what the right answer would be.

“I’m not the captain, Leander,” Taes said, and she almost sounded like she believed it.  “Yuulik said it best: I’m an imposter in a red shirt.  I’m an ensign and you’re a junior grade lieutenant.  Believe me, this is not the time to be wise.  This is the time to make mistakes.  If I hadn’t been so baffled by Fedders back then, I would have spent those years very differently.

“Come back to my quarters,” Taes said.  “Make a mistake with me.”

Subtly, Nune tilted his head in the direction of the bar, where Dolan was sitting.  “I saw you talking to him first,” Nune said.  “What does Dolan think of all this?”

Taes scraped her teeth across her lower lip.  She smiled and she said, “He asked if he could watch.”

“Pardon me; coming through…”  Lieutenant Kellin Rayco mumbled a couple of “excuse me”s as he navigated between servers and tables in the Orchestra Pit lounge.  All the same, it didn’t take him long to reach the table beside the viewport where Yuulik was already seated.  Because of their body swap, he was the one who looked like Yuulik and Yuulik looked just like him.  Jovially, Kellin said, “Good morning, Yuulik,” and he sputtered out half a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.  He could hardly imagine how peculiar that must have sounded to the passing server.

Eyes wide, Yuulik looked up from the Ktarian chocolate puff on her plate.  Slowly, she lowered her utensils.  Kellin recognized that look in her eyes — in his own eyes.  Yuulik was looking at Kellin as if she were the figurative mreker who ate the skutfish.  Despite what Kellin thought he could see in her expression, Yuulik affected her most haughty timbre when she said, “Good morning, lieutenant.”

Settling himself into the seat opposite Yuulik, Kellin paused to consider his words carefully.  These past few weeks, Kellin had been overly intentional about speaking to Yuulik politely.  He recognized that it probably sounded forced to anyone with ears, but it was important to him to try.  They had both been reprimanded in the aftermath of their shouting match on New Tenar, and as Chief Security Officer of Dvorak, Kellin was determined to never repeat that situation.  Captain Taes’ respect meant too much to him.  Finally, Kellin said, “May I ask how you’re progressing?”

During the pregnant pause between them, Yuulik had raised her knife and cut another slice out of the Ktarian chocolate puff.  She met Kellin’s eyes when he questioned her, and this time there was nothing like guilt in her expression.  Now, she looked more like Yuulik than like Kellin himself: there was a fire of challenge in her eyes.  “Are you asking about the mission, security boy,” Yuulik asked, “or are you asking about the breakfast I’m putting in your body?”  For good measure, Yuulik patted her stomach where –while inhabiting Kellin’s body– they both knew she had defined abdominal muscles beneath her uniform.

Recalling Yuulik’s words beneath New Tenar, Kellin replied, “I would never tell you what you can or can’t do.  Or eat for that matter!”  He tried to make a joke of it, but he could hear a tang of bitterness in his own words.  Kellin couldn’t be certain if that had come from his own guilt, or if it was a side-effect of speaking through Yuulik’s Arcadian vocal cords.

While Kellin spoke, Yuulik had eaten a forkful of the puff.  Yuulik remarked, “It tastes richer to me, like this.  I’ve eaten dozens of these in my life and, now, I can taste notes of cinnamon and… smoke that I’ve never noticed before…”  Yuulik set down her fork and her gaze dropped down to the puff.  Without looking at Kellin, Yuulik said, “That’s not fair.”

“What do you–” Kellin started to ask, but Yuulik smacked a hand down on her stack of PADDs.  The PADDs clattered across the tabletop and she snatched one up from the middle of the stack.

“I spent the night reading into the records more deeply than the official reports, lieutenant,” Yuulik reported formally.  The science officer waggled her PADD at Kellin each time she emphasized a point.  Yuulik said, “Our library computer has Doctor Lester’s original field notes and the field notes from the Enterprise-D’s archaeology team thirty years ago.  Doctor Lester was on Camus II for two years; she understood intimately how to operate the life-entity transfer device.  Because the subsequent surveys were completed with more advanced tricorder technology, we have a strong understanding of the engineering mechanisms that activate the device’s energy emitters.  Lieutenant Nune is working on replicating a replacement control panel now.”

Perking up at that, Kellin asked, “Then what are we waiting for?  Why are we upstairs eating–”  And Kellin stopped himself from mentioning the chocolate.

“The previous archeological teams only learned how the control panel works.  All that means is we know how to press the energize button for the energy emitters,” Yuulik explained.  Her body language became tighter; she appeared to take up less space in the room as it came time to admit what she didn’t know, rather than what she did.  “We have no understanding of how or why the energy emitters work.  Irritatingly, we cannot even locate the emitters in the platform.  The most recent archaeological surveys have theorized the body swap may only be an optical illusion, rather than a true transfer of life-energy.  There may be a telepathic link between us, considering how the effect reverses itself over time.”

Yuulik dropped the PADD on table and picked up another one.  She wasn’t as eager about this one; she reached for the PADD as if it were hot and it might burn her.  “I am concerned by my tricorder readings when the body swap happened,” Yuulik stated.  She watched Kellin more intently now, examining him like a tissue sample on a slide.  “We were exposed to a far greater energy dispersal than has ever been recorded.  If we can’t use the device to swap back into our own bodies, it could be days or even weeks until the effect wears off naturally.”

Kellin muttered a curse under his breath and his posture slumped in the chair.  “What would that mean for you, Yuulik?” Kellin tenderly asked.  “I know this must be harder for you than for any of us.”

“You are mistaken, lieutenant.  The opposite is true,” Yuulik declared, her spine stiffening.  “I have more experience with this feeling than you do.  I know how to cope.  I already spent my childhood feeling… distressed about my body.  I was ill at ease by the dissonance between my gender identity and my parents’ expectation on my identity.  That means I’m the most prepared for this experience.  I have always been a woman, regardless of what others have said about me.  I remain a woman now.”

Yuulik breathed in a long breath.  Diffidently, Yuulik added, “You shame me, Kellin.  I should have been the one to ask you how you’re coping.  I can hold your hand through this, if you need it.”

“Thank you, Yuulik,” Kellin said and he couldn’t quite hide his surprise.  “But I can’t say I’m the one in greatest distress.”

*   *   *

The shift in environment was noticeable, when Captain Taes strode from the corridor into the medical laboratory.  The lights in the lab were dimmer than in Sickbay and the compartment was smaller than most.  It was only large enough for a single patient in a stasis chamber.  It struck Taes like pathetic fallacy: a warning alarm from a biofunction monitor was ringing just as loudly as the alarm bells that had been ringing in her head since Doctor Nelli had requested her attendance in a lab.

Commander Elbon Jakkelb followed Taes into the lab.  “I apologise for the delay, Doctor Nelli,” Elbon said with genuine regret.  He shot an askance look at Taes, but she didn’t know him well enough to divine that look’s meaning.  Elbon went on, “We’ve come as soon as we could leave the bridge.  The Wakahiru-me has rendezvoused with us and has begun the search for the True Way attack ship.”

Taes hesitated only a few paces into the compartment.  She folded her arms over her chest.  Since her own body swap with Melchor Dolan, Taes had shed his science officer uniform, and had dressed herself in a utility jumpsuit, instead, this morning.  Her stomach churned at the thought of seeing Pimpinellifolia in the stasis chamber, while the physical form of Jeffrey Holmgren was still lively and walking around.  With her eyes on the carpet, Taes asked, “How is Jeffrey?”

Doctor Pimpinellifolia turned away from the stasis chamber to greet Taes and Elbon.  While Doctor Nelli’s life-essence was animating Jeffrey’s body, the life-essence of Jeffrey Holmgren was apparently rotting in Nelli’s alien, plant-based body.  Nelli had jammed one fist against their hip and their other hand was clutching a tricorder to their chest desperately.  “Captain, I’m failing,” Nelli said.  Rather than their melodious monotone, there was a human-sounding edge of fear in their voice.  “The stasis fields are having little stabilising effect on Commander Holmgren.  Neurotransmitter activity continues to drop dangerously.  If we do not transfer him back into his own body soon, I… don’t know what will be left of him to transfer back.”

“Jeffrey will recover.  I trust you,” Taes said, emphasizing her words with the full weight of her experiences, as a disaster survivor and as a leader in Starfleet.  “Doctor Lester’s notes would suggest the body swap should reverse itself, naturally, in the next few hours…”

Elbon interjected sharply with, “Not based on Lieutenant Yuulik’s latest calculations.”

Befuddled, Taes looked up at Elbon to meet his eyes, and she started to say, “Her latest–?”

Impatiently, Elbon said, “Because of the damage to the artefact, the away team was exposed to a greater intensity of the device’s life-transfer energy.  Yuulik’s estimated the effect could last for days, maybe weeks–“

Nelli snapped back, “No.  No!  You don’t understand.  Jeffrey is going to die.”  Every word was punctuated with a staccato intensity, as if Nelli were pleading with the Captain and First Officer to change the physics of this weird science that had transformed them.  Nelli dropped the tricorder and beat their palms against their chest.  Tears welled in their eyes, when they said, “And then I’ll be trapped here, holding his corpse hostage.”

“We can’t handle this,” Taes said, her throat tightening around the words.  She stepped back from Nelli’s unfiltered state of grief.  “This crew is too young, too inexperienced.  Jeffrey was supposed to be here to guide them.  I’ll– I’ll send a distress call to Deep Space Seventeen.  They have archaeologists.  Maybe even a complement of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers can rebuild–“

“Taes, I’m scared I did this,” Nelli said.  Their body language had gone slack and their voice had gone softer.  Nelli was practically hissing the words out.  Tears began to stream freely from their eyes.  “I wanted this.  I wanted to know what humanity felt like.  I wanted it more than air or sunlight.  I joined Starfleet to know if mychorrhiza symbiosis was possible between phylosians and humans.”

Listening to Nelli, Taes felt a shiver crawl down her spine, like a spider or a pair of fingertips.  There was something about Nelli’s tone of voice, something about their cadence, that sounded awfully like Jeffrey Holmgren.

“Take it back, take it back.  It’s not worth his life,” Nelli said, more emphatically now.  “Primary knowledge is invaluable, but it’s not worth Jeffrey’s suffering.  The cost is too great.  I should never have–“

Stepping in, Elbon put an arm around Nelli’s shoulders.  “You didn’t do this.  Jeffrey chose to be here,” Elbon told them and there was absolute certainty in his voice.  He offered a carefully crafted side-hug, in the hopes of calming Nelli’s human nervous system.  “The same way you did.  You didn’t beam down to the planet for research, doctor.  I don’t remember you talking about knowledge then.  You insisted on beaming down with the away team, because you were afraid the True Way pirates could’ve been injured by the planetary defense systems.  You were selfless, you were eager to preserve life.  Even those who would do us harm.”

Visibly conflicted by Elbon’s assertions amid their guilt, Nelli said, “Of course, commander.  I couldn’t do any differently.”

“Exactly, Nelli,” Elbon said.  “That’s why you’re Starfleet.  …Jeffrey felt the same about his duty.”

Taes was already halfway to the door, when she called back, “Thank you, doctor.  I’ll be in my quarters, contacting–“

“Your ready room, Captain,” Elbon countered.

Taes raised an eyebrow at Elbon.  “My ready room?”

“I insist,” Elbon said.  “Sir.”

From the overhead, the computer signaled an incoming communications signal with a mechanical chirp.  The disembodied voice of Sootrah Yuulik squawked from the communications node: “Yuulik to Doctor Nelli.  We’re going to need drugs for radiation poisoning.  Right now!”

Pacing around the life-entity transfer platform, down in the ruins on Camus II, Ensign Melchor Dolan looked at his tricorder one more time.  He studied the sensor readings in the hopes they wouldn’t be the same, unchanged sensor readings he’d been staring at since beaming down to the planet.  That hope was in vain.  The ancient machine remained dormant, the mysteries of its operation hidden.  Nothing had changed.  Just like how he was still inhabiting the body of his Deltan captain, Taes.  Enclosed by stone walls and ceilings, Dolan was struck by an undefinable sense of… familiarity.  There was something familiar about the noise of the echoes bouncing around this underground chamber.  Because he couldn’t recall that sound from his own experiences, Dolan couldn’t help but wonder if he was accessing some of Taes’ own memories, imprinted indelibly in the brain he was inhabiting.

Other science officers and engineers were scattered around the chamber, operating a variety of scanner equipment and freestanding LCARS consoles.  A pair of them were even experimenting with stone carving tools on stone tablets they’d located at another site.  Standing in the boots of an archaeologist, like Dolan, the body swap technology appeared to be pure science fiction, and yet said device was constructed from a stone platform and wall plate.  The only hint of technology were light fixtures embedded within carved hieroglyphics on the wall.

In the past hour, Dolan had been assisting Lieutenant JG Leander Nune with poking and prodding at the replacement control panel.  For the purpose of long-range survey missions, USS Dvorak was well-equipped with facilities to construct her own mission-specific probes.  Under the ministrations of Nune, the combination of replicators and robotics had produced a perfect replica of the control panel that was missing from the life-entity transfer device.  The only trouble had been determining how to connect mechanical technology to what appeared to be a solid stone platform.  Their initial experiments had only accomplished changing the quality of the hieroglyphic lights from bright white to amber white to blue white.  Chief Engineer Nune had, apparently, constructed a dimmer switch.

Crouching beside the stone platform, Nune was digging through a crate of connector cables and rods and crystals and gel packs.  While he searched for the one that would connect them to the platform, Dolan stepped closer to look over his shoulder.  “I’m disappointed I never got to work with Commander Holmgren,” Dolan said of his Chief Science Officer, who was fading away in Dvorak’s medical facilities.  The life-entity transfer between the human Holmgren and the phylosian Pimpinellifolia had been far more disastrous for Holmgren than for any of the rest of the body-swapped away team.  Dolan said, “When she introduced Holmgren to the science department, Captain Taes spoke so highly of him.  It was like she was talking about Doctor Lindstrom.  I wonder–“

“I served with him on Starbase Three-Ten,” Nune shared.  Abandoning his box of wires, Nune rose to his full height, so he could look Dolan in the eyes.  The black irises that marked Nune as a Betazoid, and his dark beard, appeared in stark contrast to the pale shade of pink Nune had dyed his hair a week earlier, in celebration of Dvorak’s maiden voyage.  He had spoken to Dolan about how their first mission was supposed to be light and frothy and thought-provoking fun.  This wasn’t that.  Nune went on, “We disassembled a Promellian fusion reactor together.  Taes wasn’t exaggerating.  …He probably would’ve solved this by now.”

“No, that’s not it,” Dolan retorted with a shake of his bald head.  “I was going to ask: the way she speaks about him… do you think Taes and Holmgren ever had a fling?”

At first, Nune only raised an eyebrow at that question.  After that heartbeat of sweat-provoking eye contact, Nune crouched down to dig through his box of wires again.  “Holmgren was in Starfleet for all the right reasons, Mel.  He knew exactly why we boldly go,” Nune affirmed.  Affectionately, Nune said, “Holmgren never let the team work longer than their duty shifts.  He was too excited to get home to his girls.  He insisted we return to our families too.  Archaeology and anthropology aren’t matters of life and death…  Usually.”

Looking back over his shoulder, Dolan turned his gaze to Lieutenant JG Sootrah Yuulik.  Compared to the shadow of Holmgren, Dolan saw his acting science chief sitting on a stone bed, fondling a couple of baseball-sized stones that had broken off from the life-entity transfer wall plate.  Although Dolan understood Yuulik was inhabiting the tall, well-built body of Kellin Rayco, Yuulik didn’t appear to be mentally present.  She was staring off into the middle distance and didn’t respond to Dolan’s gaze.  “Lieutenant,” Dolan said, “Lieutenant Yuulik, our last experiment had no result.  What else might we try?”  When Yuulik still didn’t respond, Dolan raised his voice to ask, “What are your orders, lieutenant?”

Finally, Yuulik blinked and she hissed, “I’m thinking,” dismissively.  Still, she didn’t look at Dolan.  Her hands raised and lowered gently, as if she were the scales of justice, searching for meaning in the chunks of stone.  “These feel funny…”

“They can perform their stand-up comedy act later,” Dolan said, his voice getting harder.  “We need your purported brilliance right now, lieutenant.”

“I am brilliant,” Yuulik said testily.

“Isn’t this what you promised me, lieutenant?” Dolan asked, challenging her in the way she had done to him so many times.  “If you had your own science department, we would be hip deep in real archaeology, you said.  No more science-courier missions for the starbase crews, you said.  Wh– Lieutenant, what are you doing?”

Dolan asked his final question, because Yuulik had started to juggle three of the chunks of stone.  “I don’t know,” Yuulik replied, plainly discomfited by that.  It sounded like she was reading an alien language, with those words coming out of her mouth.  She watched her own hands in fascinated horror, studying the skilled way she tossed and caught each stone in succession.

“That’s weird,” Dolan remarked.

“It must be one of Kellin’s nervous habits,” Yuulik supposed.  “Muscle memory.  I don’t know how to juggle,” she said, and she caught the three stones before depositing them on the ground.

“Yuulik, this is serious,” Dolan insisted.  “Holmgren could die!  Doctor Nelli will lose her own body too.”

“Give me,” Yuulik snapped, “some time to think!”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Dolan said.  The naked anger had drained from his voice.  In its place was cool accusation.  “Time is the one thing Holmgren doesn’t have.  If he dies… do you honestly think Taes would make you the department head?  Do you really want to be chief science officer that badly?”

It happened in less than five seconds.  Yuulik ripped her phaser out of its hip-holster and clicked off the safety.  She jammed her thumb on the settings toggle, and the phaser whined as it was pushed to an energy level capable of explosive and disruption effects.  Yuulik aimed the phaser at a wall, just beyond the device, and Nune, and Dolan. She pressed the trigger, lancing out a nadion particle beam from the emitter crystal.  Almost instantly, a massive section of the wall was vaporized.  Yuulik met Dolan’s eyes, and she said, “To hell with archaeology.”

Every tricorder in the room began to scream.  Nune hardly had to look at his tricorder to know what it meant.  He announced, “You’ve breached the tantalum shielding behind the wall!”

“You’ve killed us all, you maniac!” Dolan spat out.  “Doctor Lester’s entire team died from celebium radiation poisoning!”

Yuulik slapped the combadge on her chest.  She announced, “Yuulik to Doctor Nelli.  We’re going to need drugs for radiation poisoning.  Right now!”  Yuulik hit her combadge again to close the comm channel.  “The tantalum shielding was blocking our sensors to whatever lies inside,” Yuulik said, and then she promised, “I’m going to cut the goddamned heart out of this body swap monstrosity.”

Tiptoeing around the permitter of the Dvorak‘s bridge, Taes dragged her fingertips across the copper plate set into a bulkhead.  The Dvorak‘s dedication plaque dated back to the starship’s birth in 2352, despite all of the refits since that time.  Making contact with that living history provided brief moments of comfort to Taes, even though her sense of touch felt terribly muted while she lived within Melchor Dolan’s Zaldan body.  In the most recent refit, Dvorak had been fitted with a smaller bridge module to allow for a larger observation lounge and ready room, as well as a laboratory directly off the bridge.  Although the Springfield-class came from the same lineage as the Galaxy-class era, this bridge was equipped with a sparse number of stations, more like a battle bridge.  The true nerve-centre of this science ship was deep in its extensive laboratories.  

Even standing beside the door to the ready room, Taes was well within earshot of her first officer in the centre seat. Taes remained vaguely aware of Commander Elbon Jakkelb coordinating with the away team to distribute radiation medication, as they had been exposed to celebium radiation, deep within the planet’s crust.  Taes couldn’t quite make out Elbon’s exact words, because she was composing a letter in her thoughts.  Given Jeffrey Holmgren’s fading life signs, Taes had become preoccupied with mentally writing a letter to his family, telling them all the ways she has failed to save him, telling them exactly how she lad let their husband and father die.

Given the sheer number of starships in Starfleet, not every vessel could be blessed with a dedication quote like “…to boldly go where no one has gone before.”  The pads of Taes’ fingertips traced over the quote by a human author, Steven Hall, at the base of USS Dvorak’s plaque.  It read: we only see starlight because all the stars are bleeding.

Taes chuckled and she said, “Preach.”

Somewhere between mentally composing the third and fourth paragraphs of the letter, Taes became cognisant of having relocated to the ready room.  Commander Elbon had already settled himself into the sofa.  From the way he was looking at Taes, she feared he had asked her a question maybe thirty seconds ago?  Or a minute?  Or two?  She couldn’t remember.  Elbon was a fair few years older than Taes; not quite a decade, but he looked older than that.  Hard living as a Bajoran refugee had put lines on his face, and every one of them was accentuated by the way he had set his jaw.  His lightning blue eyes cut into Taes with utter conviction in his intent.  He wasn’t an insecure youth like so many among her senior staff.  The only thing Elbon appeared to be questioning was Taes herself.

“Where have you gone, Captain?” Elbon asked.

“I’m here, Elbon,” Taes said in a placating tone.  It would have been second-nature to her in her own body, but her own voice was far more soothing than Dolan’s.  Speaking through Dolan’s voice, Taes feared it came out as condescending.  She sat herself in one of the visitor chairs at the captain’s desk.  “I’m right here.”

Elbon shook his head forcefully.  “No, you’re not,” he said, as if he were delivering a sermon.  “You landed aboard Dvorak like a force of nature. You were only supposed to be passing through as a senior mission officer, tucked in the attic of our mission module.  Now, you’ve gone and completely reshaped the destinies of the Dvorak and her crew.  Where has that Commander Taes gone?  I’m not sure Captain Taes is much of an improvement.”

“I’m– I’m doing the best I can,” Taes said, wincing at a sharp pain in her temples.  She framed the side of her face with two fingers and her thumb.  Frustrated that she had to remind him aloud, Taes said, “I’ve been transformed against my will..”

“Do better,” Elbon said slowly, as if it were all really that simple.  As if Taes had truly never thought of that in her entire life.  Elbon said, “I had my shakedown to complete at New Tenar.  There were new systems to diagnose, an EPS grid to stabilize, new sensors to test out.  I hardly saw the upholstered walls outside the Jeffries tubes, but I could see the way you changed Captain Sefton on your little strolls.  He told me you never pulled rank, you never referenced your mission orders.  Even so, you enthralled him with your vision for your survey.  He spoke of your mission like he’d never heard of anything so exquisite in his life, and then he drafted our entire crew to support you.”

Taes shook her head, defensively, and she said, “Captain Sefton knew his own mind.  I didn’t–“

Elbon’s sermon continued: “Captain Sefton was so enamoured by the way you nurtured growth on your young team, he put the whole force of his reputation in recommending you to command this starship.  Aloysius went to command for you, and you’re wasting that chance, passing through the passageways like a borhya.”

The longer she received Elbon’s words like a lecture, Taes’ comfortable posture shifted.  In Dolan’s body, her shoulders were broader and she squared them off.  She clenched her jaw and she furrowed her brow in disgust.  “I see, I see… Was he supposed to recommend you for this command?” Taes asked, in a tone that suggested she already knew the answer.  “You know Dvorak and her crew down to the bones.  Do you think I stole your place?  If you think you can do a better job–“

“That’s not what’s happening here,” Elbon interrupted.  His intonation was flat, matter of fact, but his eyes flashed with annoyance.  “That’s a different conversation you’re imagining in your head.”

Deflecting automatically, Taes riposted, “Is that how you spoke to your congregation as a ranjen or to your patients as a counselor?”

“Both,” Elbon said with a big ol’ period to that sentence.  His eyes dared her to question his approach.  “Life is too damn long to prevaricate.”

Absurdly, a quick snort of a laugh escaped from Taes.  “I was just saying the same thing,” she remarked.

“…When exactly?” Elbon asked, his manner dubious.

Taes stared at Elbon, looked right at him, and she sucked in a long breath.  For a couple of heartbeats, she struggled with how to frame an explanation for her evening with Leander Nune.  Suspecting that Elbon wouldn’t like any which way she put it, Taes turned back to the matter at hand.  “I hear you, commander.  I’m not ready for this command.  Dvorak is a serious science vessel.  I’ve barely graduated the command training program.  Starfleet was supposed to assign me to command a patrol ship.  I– I’ve already failed to keep my crew safe.”

Elbon rubbed his hand over his mouth, as he appeared to collect himself.  He didn’t look away.  Elbon breathed in through his nose and Taes could see the daggers in his eyes grow dull.  “This is an awkward conversation to have before I really know you, captain.  I’m feeling distressed about Holmgren, and Nelli, and our difficulty working together,” Elbon said.  His communication was guileless.  Even without her biological empathy, Taes could feel the vulnerability in what he said, and she could also see he was practiced as performing vulnerability in his time as a Starfleet counselor.  “On Starbase Three-Ten, you led a science department with more personnel than the crew of this entire ship.  All of the evidence in your record tells me you’re a skilled and accomplished leader, and yet you won’t even wear your own uniform, or sit in your own chair.”

Raising a palm slowly, Elbon gestured to Taes and the jumpsuit she was wearing.  He went on, “When you say you’ve already failed, what I’m hearing is that you’ve set impossible standards of performance for yourself that nobody could live up to.  Worse, you’re giving up before you even begin.  This kind of doubting in your own duty, this feeling like a fraud, we used to call it imposter syndrome.  There’s no diagnostics or pathology to it today, but it can be useful as a frame of reference.”

Taes shook her head at that and she crossed her arms over her chest.  “No, my command of the USS Nestus was a disaster,” she said.  “The research we collected was tainted by conspiring and coercive behaviours between my senior staff.  …I thought I was going to be a good captain.  I wouldn’t have raised my hand for command if I didn’t believe I would excel.  Starfleet Command made a mistake.  I shouldn’t be here…”

Elbon wouldn’t let up.  “This is especially common among science officers in command.  Today is basically still your first day.  Nobody expects you to already be the captain you dream about becoming.  It’s not going to happen in a snap.  The crew will give you grace to learn,” Elbon said, practically pleading with Taes to understand.  “You only have to be a captain.  Any captain.  You’re a work in progress and that’s excellence in itself.  Think of all the good stories you’ll be able to tell your crew based on all the mistakes you’re making right now.”  And Elbon laughed at that, undercutting any of the sting in his words.  A few heartbeats later, Taes laughed at it too.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Taes muttered, dropping her face into her open palms.  “I felt this way when I became a chief science officer for the first time.  Exactly this way.  I thought I’d learned this lesson already.”

“You had a different support system as a science chief,” Elbon supposed. “You’re different, now, as the captain.  That part.  You’re split in two now.  No matter what else you’re doing –if you’re eating, or reading, or swimming on Risa– a piece of you will always be concerned with this ship and her crew.  It’s going to be hard for you to be fully alone, fully yourself.  All the more reason you need to be intentional about reaching out to friends who can offer perspective, or sympathy, or a laugh.  I can be your friend, if you’ll let me.  From what I’ve seen, Kellin is your friend too.”

The mention of Kellin gave Taes reason to look up.  She reached a hand out and she touched the betrothal bracelet on Elbon’s wrist.  “When are we going to talk about Kellin?” Taes asked.

Elbon didn’t recoil or look away.  He considered Taes and he told her, “When you’re back in your own body.”

“–received word from the USS Wakahiru-me,” reported the voice of Commander Elbon, transmitted through Rayco’s combadge.  “They’ve tracked down a Hidecki-class ship and their scans confirm it’s the same one that broke through Camus II’s planetary defences.  The Wakahiru-me is escorting the ship back to Cardassian space, but even short-range sensor scans can identify no sign of any ancient Camus technology aboard their ship.  We may never know their purpose in invading the ruins…“

In the catacombs beneath Camus II, Lieutenant Kellin Rayco had stepped away from the away team who were working frantically to repair the life-entity transfer device.  Having tucked himself down a passageway, Kellin received the message from Commander Elbon in private.  “All right, commander.  Thank you,” was all Kellin said.  “Rayco out,” and he tapped his combadge.

Tentatively, Kellin returned to the large chamber where Lieutenant Yuulik and the others had vaporized a tunnel through the wall behind the life-entity transfer device.  Having located the mechanisms that operated the device, the away team had been working for hours to connect the replicated control panel to the device itself.  After Kellin notified the away team about the fate of the True Way pirates, he fussed with the settings on the portable deflector units he’d erected to protect the away team from celebium radiation.  Only when he was satisfied with their continued efficacy could Kellin concentrate on the progress of the away team.  Multitasking wasn’t exactly Kellin’s best sport.  Worse, he’d come to recognise a slightly muffled quality to what he could hear through Arcadian ears, while he was inhabiting Yuulik’s body.  It felt like he had water in his ears, except it was all the time.

From within the tunnel, Kellin heard Yuulik say, “plug the optical data qualt into the razzlefrazz,” and he heard Captain Taes reply, “no, the blue weepeggle hooks into the flockeet.”  While Kellin knew that Yuulik and Taes had actually said no such thing, it all sounded like gibberish between his Arcadian hearing and his limited understanding of archaeological engineering.  Even though he understood literally nothing about what was happening inside the hidden mechanisms of life-entity transfer device, Kellin felt oddly comforted by the arguing between Yuulik and the Captain.  It made him feel safe.  He felt that way, because he did know two things.  For one, Yuulik was shouting down everything Taes was trying saying.  That meant Yuulik was following a thread of clues, and she had a plan.  For another, no matter how many tricorder error sounds rang out, no matter how many failed connector cables they tossed back, and no matter how much Yuulik raised her voice, Captain Taes sounded delighted by the discovery of it all.  Kellin couldn’t ask for anything more.

It’s why Kellin wasn’t surprised when Yuulik shouted, “I solved it!  The control panel is speaking to the machine because of me!”

“That may be…”  Striding out of the impromptu tunnel, Taes insisted, “I volunteer myself as the test subject. I’m only going to risk myself on this first try.”

“That’s– Captain, that’s not how it works,” Kellin said, keeping his tenor delicate, as Taes approached.  He shook his head and he frowned at her in an expression of compassion.  “For you to be the test subject, your body will need to be a test subject too.”

“But… Dolan?”  A pained wince carved into her features the instant Taes shook her head at Kellin.  Lowering her voice so only Kellin could hear her, Taes said, “He’s the youngest of you all.  He hardly even knows what Starfleet is about.  Kellin, we’ve made a hundred assumptions back there.  This could kill me.  I can’t ask that of him.  I can’t volunteer Dolan for this.”

“Yes,” Kellin said simply, “Yes, you can.  It’s going to kill Holmgren.  Taes, you’re the captain.  It’s what you do now.”

*   *   *

Wearing her own captain’s uniform –and her own body– for the first time in a couple of days, Taes was standing taller as she strode through Dvorak‘s archeology laboratory.  She offered a deep nod to each of the crew members she passed, but she didn’t slow her pace or pause for conversation.  That could come later.  She had already met with the other members of the original away team and the only one remaining was Sootrah Yuulik.  Taes stepped into one of the private offices at the back of the laboratory, which is where she found Yuulik, hunched over a computer workstation.  The science officer was back in her own body too, and she appeared to be making up for lost time, given how intently she was tabbing through LCARS menu options with both hands.

Taes didn’t step in much farther than the doorway.  Uncharacteristically, Yuulik looked up from her work and nodded an acknowledge to Taes, before Taes could say anything.  Taes nodded back and she asked, “How are you feeling, Sootrah?”

Yuulik bobbed her bulbous head from side to side.  “After three showers…” Yuulik said, “Almost Arcadian.  With just a bit of a headache.”  To Taes’ ears, it sounded like a deflection, and so she didn’t respond.  Taes offered Yuulik a faint smile and allowed the silence to speak for her otherwise.  Still, Yuulik continued with her riff, saying, “I imagine Dolan felt the need to absolutely bathe your body in perfumes?”

Shaking her head at that, Taes chided Yuulik with a, “shush.”

After laughing at her own joke, Yuulik noticeably sobered and she hiccuped nervously.  She pursed her lips and seemed to take some strength from that sensation in her own body again.  “And how is Commander Holmgren?” Yuulik asked uncomfortably.

Leaning back, Taes rolled her shoulders and her head against the doorframe.  She stared into the middle distance over the top of Yuulik’s head.  “He’s in a coma,” Taes said.  Protectively, she said those words out loud as if it should come as no surprise, as if it were an inevitability beyond her control.  “Doctor Nelli has fully recovered in their own body, but we’re going to take Jeffrey back to Deep Space Seventeen and… his wife.”  Taes’ voice cracked in the end.  “By ere’ka,” Taes swore, “I failed him…  I haven’t even been much of a captain to you this mission either.”  Taes tilted her gaze to meet Yuulik’s eyes.  “The imposter in red,” Taes said, bubbling over with emotion.  Some part of Taes was archly throwing Yuuilk’s words back at her, another part of her was defying Yuulik for questioning her so often, and yet Taes was also embracing the name like a vile crown.

Despite how well Taes had grown to know Yuulik these past months, Taes had yet to ever see a single micro-expression of shame or embarrassment on Yuulik’s face.  This day was no different.  Yuulik tilted her chin up and she didn’t shy away from Taes’ scrutiny.  Cautiously, Yuulik said, “Never let anyone tell you you have imposter syndrome.  Humans invented the term as a modern way to call women hysterical in the workplace.  Even the word ‘imposter’ exaggerates a glorified feeling of anxiety into a form of criminal fraudulence.”

Taes took a deep breath.  “Today, I feel like a fraud,” she said.  Taes practiced naming the emotion, in the hopes it would limit some of its power, as Elbon had encouraged her.

“The very notion of imposter syndrome puts the blame on you for your emotional reactions to growth in a new circumstance.  Calling anything you’re feeling ‘imposter syndrome’ ignores the foundational context of Starfleet’s own culture,” Yuulik insisted.  “How can you feel confident in your command of a starship when you don’t know what that looks like?  We have so few Deltan mentors and role models in Starfleet positions of senior command.  If you try to compare yourself against every Tom, Dick and Kirk, of course you might feel like a fraud.  It falls to you, and this crew, to pioneer a path towards what a successful Taes looks like as the captain of a starship or an admiral of a fleet.”

“Yuulik…” Taes whispered.

“No, this is your job.  You have to be that role model.  Prove to our crew there are more ways to be leaders than they know,” Yuulik said, demandingly.  “You owe that debt.  When you jumped to the command track, you took something from Starfleet.  You may not know this, captain, but I read every article you ever published.  Even your cadet thesis.  You are a brilliant scientist.  You could be doing real work out here.  You truly could invent a new paradigm for first contact or the next generation of universal translator.  For whatever reason, you decided to babysit engineers and security meatheads instead.  If you’re going to waste all that brilliance on starship command, you better make it worth it.  That’s your job now.”