Preparations

Posted on Fri Aug 17th, 2012 @ 7:06pm by Ensign Ian Bren & Lieutenant Norval Tigan & Lieutenant Eric Edwards

Mission: Sections of the Delta Quadrant
Location: Varies

Eric Edwards woke in a slow stretch, extending his arm over the surprisingly cold body next to his own. He’d grown used to the unusually cool temperature of joined Trill over the last several months, such that it no longer bothered him, but he did recall early incidents where the briefest of Norval’s touches had sent him shivering.

Sometimes he wished the Tigan symbiont weren’t part of their lives for that sole reason, but he knew Norval wouldn’t be... well, Norval... without the influence of the worm that lived in his belly. He was his own man, but he also encompassed the lives of seven other hosts. And Eric loved every facet of his partner.

Smiling as he wrapped a hand around the Trill’s stomach, he felt the Assistant Ops Chief stir, snuggling into their embrace. “Morning,” Norval mumbled, still clutching his pillow.

“Morning,” Eric echoed, placing his lips on the nape of his neck. They lingered like that for a long moment before EE broke the hanging silence. “I guess you need to see Ian today.”

Norval sighed into the softness of his pillow, finally managing to roll over and face his lover. “Yeah,” he admitted, his eyes probing Eric’s. “For what it’s worth, I’d rather spend all day here, with you.”

Eric couldn’t help but smile at the sappy response. “As it happens, you get to. Maybe not in bed, but... Commander Zeferino assigned me to protect Ensign Leyva.”

The Trill’s eyes sparkled. “Then... for as long as Natalia’s alive...”

“My duty is to be near you,” Eric said, casually rolling on top of him.

“Oh, this just got so much better,” Norval purred, before deciding his message to Ian could wait another hour.

=^= Ian’s Quarters =^=

“Yes, I’m as surprised as anyone!” Ian laughed, at ease with his sometime companion, E’tarna.

She shook her head, smiling at him, “Count you as one lucky targh, Ian. Want to try your luck again? Maybe this time, you....”

He interrupted her: “Maybe this time, you’ll hold still long enough for me to …,” he, in turn, was interrupted by the chirp of his commbadge and a summons from Norval Tigan. Wide-eyed, Ian beamed at his partner and shouted, “I have to go! I’ll see you later!” He dashed from his quarters, only to return a moment later, much to E’tarna’s amusement, to find a proper outfit in which to formally meet Norval Tigan, his Trill mentor.

=^= Holodeck One =^=

Norval had foregone a uniform, given that he wasn’t really acting as a member of the Operations department, despite being on duty. He wore a pair of dark gray slacks, polished shoes and a cerulean blue shirt that was cut to expose a few more of his characteristic spots than a human garment might.

Eric stood with him, likewise casual. Blue jeans, white oxford shirt folded up to his elbows, and a brown leather belt with matching shoes. Norval was quietly painting on a holographic canvas, a landscape remarkably similar to Monet’s Bridge over a Pool of Water Lilies, while the Security officer ran scans with his tricorder, both of them awaiting Ian. One was expecting no trouble, the other was expecting a great deal of it... from his own mouth.

Thankfully, Norval had informed Ian that today would be “casual”, so Ian was also in ‘civilian’ clothing, though his more closely matched traditional Trill clothing. Trying to tone down his grin, after all, he was afforded the chance to be joined only because someone else was dying, he entered the holodeck and half-bowed to Norval. “Lieutenant Tigan,” he greeted the senior Trill then looked with curiosity at the other male in the room.

“Please, call me Norval,” he replied, nodding his head in response to the as-yet-unjoined Trill who had entered the Holodeck with them. “What we’re doing here doesn’t relate to rank or even to Starfleet, so there’s no sense standing on ceremony in that regard.”

The Ops Lieutenant put his brush down, calling for the computer to save and discontinue the very minimalistic program he had been running. He extended a hand, gesturing at his companion. “This is Lieutenant Edwards.”

“Eric,” the Security officer said, extending his hand to Ian after depositing his tricorder on the belt next to his phaser and smiling.

Norval opened his mouth to explain why Eric was here, but opted on the side of caution for the moment, instead questioning Ian. “How much has Doctor Harding told you?”

Shaking Eric’s hand, Ian was still curious, in more ways than one, about the male. Without a uniform, there was no telling which department he was in. Diplomatic Ranks to ease any tensions with the Commission about this joining? Security with those muscles? He pulled his hand back and focused on Norval’s question. “He told me that Natalia Bren was responsible for some criminal acts. But that the symbiont Bren has no other criminal records, so he believes the actions were those of Natalia, not Bren.”

The statement brought up a question Ian hadn’t thought to ask: “I know that once I’m joined, Bren and I become a new person... will I lose myself?”

Norval shook his head. "No, you'll still be very much yourself, but I'd be lying to you if I said nothing would change. In addition to bringing three lifetimes worth of memories, Bren would become an intrinsic part of who you are. Your personality would ... adapt. I became far more outgoing when I was joined," Norval recalled and Eric suppressed a laugh. That was an understatement and they both knew it.

"I'm glad Dr. Harding mentioned the less than savory activities Natalia engaged in, though. When you're joined... if you're joined," he admitted, "Security will want to talk to you about Natalia's memories. And so Eric is here as a precaution, to keep you safe. The three of us are going to be spending a LOT of time together."

Ah, Security. That would explain the man’s muscles. But wait.... “If I’m joined? Surely Harding won’t let the symbiont die?”

"Bren is not going to die," Norval said with certainty, "but since we don't know how long Natalia has to live, the Symbiosis Commission is going to send a host. If they make it here, they will receive Bren. If not, well, that's why I'm prepping you."

Ian had always disliked uncertainty and this news brought a troubled frown to his face. “Very well, Norval. Let us start, then.”

“I know you don’t like this,” Norval said, reading into his expression. “I don’t like it either. I think the Symbiosis Commission should embrace any Trill willing to put forth the effort to be joined... but there simply aren’t enough symbionts to go around... So we cut participants from the program for little to no reason. It’s the way it has to be. I’ve gone over your psych profile, your test results, your physical examinations... there’s really not a lot I can do to test you, Ian, if we’re being honest, that hasn’t already been done. But it has been a few years since the Commission saw you, and if there’s one thing that might have changed, evolved, it’s your ability to deal with stress. So, if you’re ready?”

Norval left the question open-ended, but he had moved over the Holodeck’s arch, his hands resting on the controls. He hadn’t enjoyed crafting this program, but he knew that in the Delta Quadrant it represented the ultimate test of a Starfleet officer. If Ian could handle it, he would have Norval’s personal recommendation to the Symbiosis Commission. Hell, even Eric might be impressed if Ian could survive this. He doubted Oz threw such impossible scenarios at her minions.

Watching Norval at the controls, Ian nodded, unsure what was coming. The fingers of one hand nervously fretted at the cuff of his sleeve.

The sterile, yellow grid of the holodeck dissolved as Norval keyed the activation command. Ian could likely barely hear him whisper “Good luck” before everything real was covered in photons and forcefields. Ian was aboard the Hammond, standing at Science I on the bridge. Commander Sakkath sat in the center chair, Norval at the helm, and Eric stood at Tactical. 900 was orbiting behind them, and all eyes were fixed on the viewscreen.

An ominous black cube hovered there, drawing ever closer.

The voice that interrupted the tense silence was like a passionless chorus.

WE ARE THE BORG. LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND SURRENDER YOUR VESSELS. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED.

Ian’s spots turned a darker brown and his usually dark olive skin paled considerably. This was training? How was this training? Frowning, somewhat stunned, he glanced over at Norval. Was the man a nutcase? The Symbiosis Commission was usually fairly thorough in weeding out the crazy ones, but every once in awhile, a sociopath made it through the tests to become joined. He re-focused on the screen and the scenario.

Red Alert was already sounding, but Sakkath looked unperturbed. “Arm all weapons. Helm, standby for evasive maneuvers. Engage the Borg ship on my order.”

In his head, the Vulcan knew they and the Takei were all that stood between 900 and the Borg. He also knew their forces were insufficient. That much was logical, but he was not prepared to sacrifice Li based solely on logic.

The Borg entered firing range first, causing the bridge to shake violently as a sickly green beam impacted the shields. “Evasive pattern delta, Mister Tigan. Mister Edwards, return fire,” Sakkath ordered, before forcing himself to stand from the command chair. He spun, facing Ian. “Mister Leyva, I require a means to combat the Borg adaptability to our weapons. Suggestions?”

Faced with the very stern-looking senior officer, Ian very nearly squeaked, But I’m just a botanist!, but he didn’t. He’d been trained in tactical science, just like so many others before him. Barely pausing, Ian dropped his gaze to the console in front of him. Reading the information there, he quickly assessed the Borg’s adaptability. “Random rotation through the phaser bandwidth, changing every 3.1 seconds, as they have a 3.2 second adaptation lag. Also, randomize the shield’s fluctuations every 3 seconds.” It was a standard answer when facing the Borg.

Norval managed to hide a small smile as he observed from the far end of the room, outside the projection’s limits even though a hologram of himself was represented at the helm. Eric sidled up next to him, crossing his arms across his chest.

“The Borg? Really?” he whispered, unknowingly echoing Ian’s own concerns.

Norval just shrugged, keeping his voice similarly low. “I want to see how he reacts under pressure. Unusual circumstances, a CO he’s never even met and, maybe most importantly, the Borg represent a concern he already voiced.” The Trill turned his head, noting the look of confusion. “Losing himself. The joining is nothing like assimilation, but still. Extremes tell you things about a person that I really don’t have time to learn by talking to him.”

In the meantime, the simulation went on, rocking the illusive Hammond and its occupants, the smell of smoke and sweat in the air as consoles erupted in a shower of sparks each time a new Borg salvo impacted the rapidly failing shields. In the dim emergency lighting of the bridge, even the Vulcan Commander was looking strained.

“Shields collapsing,” holo-Eric managed to choke out as he stood at the blinking Tactical display, his consoles losing power. The next sound didn’t need to be voiced, the Intruder Alert klaxon heralding the arrival of a trio of drones on the bridge even as the cube began to slip by them towards the station ahead.

Trying to ignore the three drones and not quite succeeding, Ian glanced at them nervously and announced the latest from his console: “Commander, the Borg have increased their adaptation speed to 2.9 seconds. Recalibrating the random rotation of shields and phasers to happen every 2.7 seconds.” His voice was shaky - hell, he was shaky, but when one of the drones came towards him, his first reaction was to reach for the phaser that should have been at his side.

There wasn’t one. The drone reached for him and he punched it, which was ineffectual, at best. Easily deflecting Ian’s fist, the drone grabbed the Trill and extended her assimilation tubules into his neck.

A moment later, Ian found himself standing in the black and yellow grid of the holodeck with Norval and Eric watching from the arch. “What kind of training are we doing here?”, he asked, trying to keep his irritation from showing in his voice.

Norval answered the question with one of his own. “What were you thinking as the drone approached you?”

“That I was really glad this was a simulation. In real life, being assimilated by the Borg means a total loss of self; the drones are... just that: drones.” The fingers of his right hand had gone back to worrying at the fabric of his left sleeve. “But also: where was my phaser? In a Bridge simulation involving an attack, wouldn’t I normally have a phaser?”

Ian saw the cute, very cute, Eric shift slightly and realization dawned: “Oh.... You just said that being joined doesn’t mean I’d lose me, so being joined and being assimilated are different?”

His statement was a question, but one that would have to wait a moment for answering. Ian’s commbadge chirped and a voice instructed him: =^=Ensign Leyva, report to Piper Medical immediately.=^= What could they want? He glanced at Norval and Eric.

Norval’s brow creased and he went to his own comm badge. “Sickbay, this is Tigan, what’s the status of Doctor Bren?” he asked.

=^=Deceased. Doctor Harding is preparing to transplant the symbiote.=^=

Norval cursed under his breath as he closed the channel. Suddenly that extra hour he took with Eric seemed awfully problematic. “All right, let’s get moving then. Eric, stick close to Ian, I’ll lead the way to the turbolift. This would be an awfully good time for one of the late Doctor’s associates to try something.”

The Security Officer nodded and began ushering the Trill botanist towards the door. Norval passed back a PADD for Ian to look over while they walked.

“These are the bios I was able to recover for the past three Bren hosts. You’ll be intimately familiar with them soon enough, but I thought you might like some idea of what you can expect in terms of their life experiences. And to answer your questions, you didn’t have a phaser because this was never about combat. It’s about realizing that your life is about to change, expand, but not be swallowed whole.” Entering the turbolift, Norval ordered no stops on their way to Piper Medical and Eric positioned himself between Ian and the door.

“I am sorry about this,” Norval said, genuinely. “I had hoped to have more time. But until the Guardian can arrive to perform the zhian’tara, I’ll try to help you through the transition. You might give some thought to your three volunteers.”

Feeling washed along by a sudden tsunami of urgency, information and this is really happening!, Ian dully nodded then shook his head and focused on Norval. “Vol..., oh, for the memories of the past hosts.” He’d almost forgotten about that aspect of the zhian’tara. The personalities and memories of the past three hosts would be telepathically transferred to his volunteers, where the memories would come to the forefront and he could ask questions of the past hosts, to determine what they were like and how they influence the symbiote now.

As the turbolift raced along the Station’s spine, Ian mulled over who his volunteers could be. E’tarna, surely, would do this for him. Perhaps Mills, one of his Science lab buddies, would too. But one of Bren’s hosts was a criminal... his fingers found a thread coarser than the others and picked at it. “What about the volunteer for the Natalia host? Shouldn’t that be someone from Security?”

“Generally speaking, you want it to be someone you’re comfortable with. From what I’ve been told, it’s like being a spectator in your own body... and ultimately, it’s the volunteer who chooses when to return the memories of the host they’ve been granted. There may be some precautions taken when Natalia presents herself, but it needn’t be a security officer her consciousness inhabits.” Norval stole a glance in Eric’s direction. He hadn’t known him during his zhian’tara, but he suddenly thought it would have been interesting to speak to Andam through him.

Eric nodded, though he continued to face the turbolift doors rather than turn around. “It would be simplest to do in the brig,” he agreed. “That keeps Natalia contained, the volunteer safe and puts us in a controlled environment to be able to question her.” He paused a moment and then shrugged. “If she’ll even tell us anything. Might be easier, if less direct, to just ask you Ian.”

Behind Eric, worried as he was, Ian was still able to appreciate the fit of the Security officer’s jeans. He didn’t hide his sly smile, but it, and his appreciative raise of one brow didn’t last long. The lift was slowing; his expression turned to worry again and his fingers pulled at the thread they’d been worrying on. “E’tarna, Mills, and Haskell. That’s who I’ll ask,” he said and added, “Though I doubt any of us will be comfortable in the brig, Eric. Perhaps just a holodeck?”

But there was no time to answer him. The lift stopped and the doors opened onto Piper Medical, where a team waited to escort them to the prep and waiting areas. For Ian, there was no waiting: Doctor Lo-Tseng ordered him to strip and he was on his back on a gurney, covered with just a sheet with a big hole in the middle in no time flat.

____________________
Norval Tigan
Wishing he had more time

Eric Edwards
Very happy with his assignment

Ian Leyva
Like an Unexpected Lottery Winner