Trill Homeworld

Lochees Household

23 December 2401 (Earth calendar)

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Sweat ran down Temerant’s back as he jogged one final lap around the Ty’avyt Nature Park. The rush of endorphins was just as sweet as Bast desired. For Lamorra it had been swimming, for Willem it was rock or ice climbing, and for Temerant it was jogging, but each of Bast’s hosts had their own way of getting their blood pumping. 

One month had passed since Temerant Lochees had been joined with the Bast symbiont. His leave of absence for the Joining had been approved by Starfleet Command, during which time he had gotten to know himself, and started to integrate some of the life experiences from the previous hosts. But he was starting to itch for some action, and hoped that Starfleet would come through with transfer orders soon.

He’d met with Wilem Bast’s family in the Zhian’azoth, a Trill ritual that allowed the symbiont to say goodbye to its previous life, and allowed the previous host’s family and friends to have one final moment with a loved one. 

It had been a bit awkward for Temerant – just as awkward, he recalled, as it had been for Wilem, when he had inherited the Bast symbiont from the first host, Lamorra. But he suspected that it had been even more awkward for the family, hearing familiar words coming from an unfamiliar face, one decades younger than the previous Host. 

The ritual had lasted barely five minutes – Wilem’s family being the ones to cut it short. Bast would greatly have wanted a few more minutes with its – or rather, with Wilem’s – children, but it knew better than to force the issue. The symbiont’s need to grieve for its former life was just as great as the family’s need to grieve for a loved one.

For the integration period, Temerant Bast had settled back in the Lochees family home. The familiar surroundings had comforted him at first, but what was familiar to Temerant was also new to Bast, and this duality was unsettling. In some ways, he imagined that it might be like someone rediscovering their memories after a bout of amnesia. 

He finished his lap around the park and walked the two blocks back to the household, cooling down and catching his breath. The Bast symbiont was pleased with this new body, which was proving to be entirely satisfactory on every level. 

Temerant walked in the front door and fetched a towel from his room, wiping the sweat from his brow and the back of his neck. He then walked into the kitchen and ordered a cup of iced matcha from the replicator. As he smelled the semi-sweet green beverage, he heard a sigh from behind. He turned around, and saw his mother seated at the table, looking at him over her breakfast.

”You used to hate tea,” she said, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

”Good morning, Mother,” he said.

”And you never used to call me that,” she added. “You called me Mom. Remember?”

”I know.” Temerant sat across from her at the table. Laurian might have been Temerant’s mother, but she wasn’t Bast’s. Instinctively, the symbiont had adopted the more formal “Mother” instead of the Host’s habit of calling her “Mom”. 

“Lamorra liked tea,” he said, “and I guess the Bast symbiont got hooked on it through her.”

Laurian merely nodded, and took a sip of her own tea. “And was Lamorra also the one who consistently forgot to put her dirty dishes back in the food dispenser?”

Temerant blushed, and grinned sheepishly. “No,” he admitted. “I guess that was me.” 

How odd it felt to be sitting across from her. The dichotomy of knowing her so well, as only a son can know his own mother, coupled with the experience of just getting to know her as a complete stranger from the symbiont’s perspective, was almost giving him vertigo.

Laurian put down her cup, and looked at her son. Or rather, the person who looked and sounded like her son, but was somehow different. 

“I didn’t know your father before he was Joined,” she said. “So I can’t compare. But I know you. I’m afraid you’ll lose yourself in the joining, and be overwhelmed by the symbiont and all of its… past selves,” she said, searching for the right words.

Temerant smiled. “Don’t worry, Mother,” he said. “I’ve always been more resilient than you gave me credit for. I’m in control.”

Laurian’s eyes filled with tears. She swallowed them back, and merely smiled, and nodded her head. She put a hand on top of his, and gave it a loving squeeze. Wordlessly, she got up, cycled her empty dishes in the replicator, and left the room.

Temerant raised his cup and took another sip of matcha. It was true, Temerant Lochees had never cared for it. He’d been a coffee drinker, and lots of it. But it was one of the many things that had changed since being joined – if only because the symbiont remembered how too much coffee had caused Willem heartburn. 

He had a newfound confidence. Temerant had been a fairly introverted person, but now he was forthcoming, sure of himself, and more determined. He had more energy, more stamina, and he was hungry for new experiences. His engineering knowledge remained his own – none of Bast’s previous hosts had any knowledge in Engineering, though Wilem’s expertise as a scientist would also prove useful. Certainly his experience as a manager on several major projects for the Trill Science Ministry was considerable, and Starfleet was bound to be interested. Not to mention Wilem’s time as a particle physicist and his expertise in weapons research during the Dominion War.

The communications station beeped, indicating that a message had come in.

”Would you get that, Tem?” called out Laurian from the living room, where she had retreated, reading the morning news reports on a holotablet.

Temerant walked over to the console, and turned on the viewscreen. 

“It’s for me,” he said.

He opened the message, and read the transfer orders. The note, from Vice Admiral Gabriel Allon, Director of Starfleet Operations for Sector 026, instructed him to report to Deep Space Nine within the week, and await the arrival of his assigned vessel, as Chief of Operations – though the cryptic message failed to identify either the vessel. There were also a slew of various health forms that needed to be filled out to declare him fit to return to active duty following his Joining.

Bast gave a silent chuckle – Hosts might change, but bureaucratic mentality never did.

—

Lt. Temerant Bast

Chief of Operations (in transit)

USS Cygnus

ON

It had been three days since the destruction of the Crystalline Entity. Two days ago, Bane had talked to just about every single Admiral at Starfleet Command about their mission and the events with the Crystalline Entity, and had updated the Strategic Operations Officer of their sector as well. Yesterday, the Cygnus finally got her warp engines back online and they were headed back to Deep Space 9. Lisald was still in sickbay recovering from his injuries, as well as 47 other crewmembers. Doctor Elodin and his team had their jobs cut out for them, but knew they would do their medical majik and make everyone right and whole again. 

Today however, was another story. He put in the final notes into the file he was working on, ensured it was saved, and closed it. Turning slightly in his chair, he tapped a command on his desk. The chirp of a communicator was heard through the Ready Room, indicating that person-to-person communication was open. “Captain Bane to Ensign Spangler. Please report to the Ready Room.”

The Chief Science Officer’s office felt particularly isolated, which the man who occupied it was thankful for. Spangler felt drained, in every sense. He had a pile of work his people had done to review, and now that he finally had time to do so, Albert couldn’t focus in any meaningful way. The familiar chirp followed by the Captain’s voice created probably the only diversion he hadn’t hoped for. He sighed, not having the energy to even consider coming up with an excuse. “Sir.” 

It didn’t take long to reach the Captain’s Ready Room, entering straight in. “Captain.” Albert greeted his Commanding Officer, opened his mouth briefly to utter the greeting of the day, but then couldn’t remember if it were morning or evening, opting for a slight nod instead.

Bane nodded back. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Spangler. Please, have a seat,” Bane said, pointing to the chair between them. Once the Ensign had sat down, Bane leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers. “How is Vaat doing, have you seen him since he was in Sickbay,” he asked, hoping he wasn’t being intrusive. “I believe you two are friends, right?”

“Yes, I suppose we are.” Albert answered, pausing briefly. “He’s doing better. He’s alive, and going to stay that way it seems. So, that’s good.” The answer was somewhat guarded, but he wasn’t sure why. The truth of the matter was that he had been by to check on his friend every day, was very much aware of Lisald’s status.

Bane nodded. “Good, good. I’m relieved he will be fine. I’ll be going to see him today. Anyways, the reason I wanted to see you was to inform you of a few things, and a few changes I need to make. First and foremost, I’ve entered into your service jacket a letter of recognition. Without your forward thinking and your research on that Crystalline Entity, we would not be here talking about it. I was extremely impressed by that, and so was Commander Larsen.”

This made Spangler feel nauseous. Ultimately, the acts that the Captain spoke of came out of a lack of confidence, fear and ultimately anger. He deserved many things, likely none of which the Captain summoned him for. “I..” Albert nodded again. “Sir.”

Mistaking the Chief Science Officers lack of words as being humble and a loss for words, Bane smiled again and pressed on. “In addition to that, Mr. Spangler, Commander Larsen and I have talked about you, your performance on this ship since you came aboard, and especially your performance in this last mission, we believe it is warranted that you be promoted to the rank of Lieutenant junior grade.” Bane reached over to the small section of the L-shape of his desk, pulled out a drawer, and a small maple box, and handed it to Albert. “By my authority as Commanding Officer of the USS Cygnus, I hereby promote you to the rank of Lieutenant junior grade, with all the rights and privileges thereto. Congratulations Lieutenant Spangler,” Bane said, smiling broadly.

Albert accepted the container, taking in it’s contents with uncertainty. He was, in a matter of speaking, at a loss for words. It was, and had been on his mind to just speak freely; but that was a daunting task to say the least. Eventually, the new lieutenant spoke, “Captain, if we had been successful, establishing communication with that thing, what would our end game be?” Albert stared at the captain, curiosity laced with desperation coming through, “Did we expect it to just.. not eat?”

Inwardly, Bane had to smile. The man had just been promoted, arguably the second most important promotion of his career, the first being to Captain, of course, yet here he was, freshly promoted, not even pinned his pip to his collar yet, and he was being a scientist first. It spoke volumes about his personality. “Not at all. As we had figured up, we would have fed it and led it back out into open space, away from the civilized sections of the galaxy. We then would have attempted to find a feeding ground for it, or come up with a plan to make it food to sustain it in perpetuity. A daunting task, for sure, but I am confident we would have come up with something. I encourage you to continue your work that you started, and come up with that way to feed these things. This is the second time Starfleet has encountered the Crystalline Entity, and I doubt it will be the last.”

“You remind me a bit of Vaat, Sir.” Albert said with a slight grin, not elaborating further. There was an optimism the two men shared that the science officer envied. “I hope you are wrong, Captain. But I suppose if we do find another of these things, killing it should be further down the list than plan B.”

Bane took that as a compliment. Whether Vaat had taken on some of the personality traits of the Captain, or Bane had taken some from the Lieutenant wasn’t altogether clear, but either way, it was a compliment. “You aren’t wrong, Lieutenant. Using force should be the very last thing on the list. I look forward to your findings, your plans and your proposal in the event Starfleet ever encounters it again. Should it come to pass, your work could be known as the ‘Spangler Maneuver.’” 

Spangler’s grin turned into a genuine smile. “Unfortunately the Spangler Maneuver is already a thing; it’s just not widely known outside of the dive bars of southeast Australia.” He stood, taking a deep breath and gripped the box containing his new pips. Maybe I’ll keep these things after all, Albert thought. “Thank you, Captain. I suppose.. I should get started, then.”

Plase laughed about the quip in Australia, but figured that was a story best left unsaid to the Captain.  “Yes, of course. Again, congratulation Lieutenant.  Dismissed.”

The Ready Room doors closed behind Spangler as he left. Now it was time to break the news to a certain Bajoran oddball that he no longer outranked the Chief of Science.