Chapter 4

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion.

REM, "Losing My Religion"

Ezri received her appointment notice that afternoon. As direct as ever, the Commission had indeed scheduled tomorrow as her first day of Declaration. They granted her access to restricted transporter coordinates of the Symbiosis Complex in Parsee City and requested that she not be late.

Once the notice arrived, the rest of the day wasn't good for much. The upcoming trials filled Ezri's thoughts. Some part of her knew that she looked more distracted and tense than ever, and it bothered Julian, though he was careful not to say anything. That upset her, though she knew there was nothing she could do about it, and by evening she was exhausted.

Sleep came quickly that night, mercifully blotting out her thoughts for a while but also rushing her into morning. Just as the sun rose above the bay, Ezri and Julian rose and got ready for the day ahead. She chose a dark, simple dress, straight-lined and long sleeved. She knew it met with the Commission's standards of formality; it also made her feel small and pale and entirely not herself.

She hesitated for many long minutes about wearing her pledge chain to the proceedings. In the end, she decided to take it off.

An Azure Guard escort, a woman of indeterminate age with a smooth face and iron-colored hair, was waiting for them when they beamed over. She marched them out of the bare transporter room the instant they materialized and started examining Ezri's notification without wasting a moment on idle conversation.

"Yes – Ezri Tigan Declaration. We have you on file," she said tersely.

As they followed her through a long echoing corridor toward the main complex, Julian whispered to Ezri. "Why don't they address you as Dax?"

Ezri shrugged. "I'm not official yet. That's why."

In Parsee City, morning was well underway; the hallways of the complex were already packed. Gold-robed Initiates glided past green-clad Candidates and students. Doctors in scrubs, Guardians in plain smocks or ceremonial garments, teachers and clerks in normal clothing – all did an elaborate, unchoreographed dance through the hallways. Everything was rushed, ordered, businesslike. Julian watched the stream of people with curiosity, but Ezri could see the traces of tension in his bearing.

Ezri kept her eyes on their escort. She was no stranger to this place, and very few of the memories were good ones. Jadzia had gone through Initiate training twice here, and the one time she'd returned, it had been to learn the horrifying truth about Joran Dax and the extent of the Commission's manipulation. As Ezri Tigan, she'd left this place defiantly clothed in her Starfleet cadet's uniform, swearing to leave Trillian behind forever. She could still feel the gold silk under her fingers as she returned her robe to Master Jinn, her Initiate trainer....

"You think so little of this planet that you can walk away so easily?"

Ezri looked up and handed the robe back, feeling a sense of loss she hadn't expected. Calling up her courage, she spoke, knowing she had nothing more to lose here. "How do you explain three suicides in my Initiate class alone? Or the things we're taught – to ignore our own feelings, to not question the system, and to pretend there is nothing wrong –"

The older woman waved her hand. "Enough, Ezri. Your letter expressed your opinions quite clearly. I'm sorry to see you go, but I suppose it's for the best. Better you leave when you know you would be a bad Host than try to achieve a Joining that might only end in disgrace...."

The Guardswoman turned abruptly to face them, and Ezri was jarred out of her reverie. "This is the waiting room," she said. "Unjoined friends and family wait here." Her eyes narrowed in Bashir's direction. Ezri felt a stab of anger.

Julian let out a breath and nodded to the guard. "All right. Thank you." Looking back at Ezri, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Best of luck."

"Thanks. I'll be back soon."

She took a long look back at Julian as she followed the guard further into the corridor, tasting bile. Gods, she was nervous, and part of her was enraged. How dare they sit and judge her situation when they would have damned her worse for letting Dax die? Even worse, how dare they preach their trite words about suitability and honor when she knew better – half the population capable of Joining, even madmen like Joran or Verad?

They turned a corner, and Ezri's angry thoughts suddenly dissolved. Passing them, a young, dark-haired woman in the blue robes of New Host helped an elderly man in Old Host red robes limp to one of the hospital rooms, a Guardian one step behind them. The man's face was creased with years of life now taking their toll; the young woman's eyes burned with nervous resolution.

Ezri swallowed hard. Curzon and Jadzia had taken just such a walk in these corridors. Unconsciously, she put one hand on her abdomen.

The guard stopped in front of a door. "This is where you will change. A robe has already been placed in the room. I will be waiting here for you."

Ezri thanked the woman and ducked inside, glad to have a moment of peace. The door closed behind her, leaving her in silence. There was nothing here aside from a narrow closet, a bench mounted to the wall, and a mirror. An ornate tapestry with the hieroglyph for "host" covered the back wall; its embroidered symbols floated in the air behind Ezri's reflection. Opening the closet revealed a blue robe that was slightly darker than the blue of her sciences uniform. She took a breath that didn't seem quite deep enough and unfastened her dress, sliding it over her head and folding it with almost ritual care. The air was cool enough to hurry her into the robe; she pulled it around her and tied it into place.

In the mirror, Ezri saw her own blue eyes timidly bright above the darker silk, and she felt like an imposter.

*****

The Great Hall of the Symbiosis Commission Building was just as grand and imposing as Dax had always remembered it. The main chamber was a semi-circular room, its high walls painted with intricate murals that curved up to the skylights of the ceiling. Late morning light filtered through those ornamental panes, illuminating the central platform that lay far below, completely exposed to the rest of the room. On a mezzanine curving gracefully around this floor, flanked by old-fashioned ceremonial torches, the judges sat in their robes and tunics of office. Audrid Dax had once taken her seat on that rostrum, centuries ago.

But Ezri's place today was the lower floor. As she entered from the narrow hallway, her feet fell on a tile mosaic of the symbol of justice, a constant reminder surrounding her. She strode into the pool of light with a bravado she didn't feel, much as she had walked into the Destiny's sickbay that fateful day. Taking a deep breath, she put her hands to her sides and looked up.

Four judges addressed her. An old sharp-faced woman, a man not much older than her in appearance (but likely with a Symbiont older than Dax), a raw-boned, middle-aged man, and a plump and stern woman with dark eyes flanked the head judge's seat.

Behind that seat was a door. In a moment, as Ezri rallied all her courage, the door opened and the Head Commissioner emerged. He was a Joined Trill whose Host couldn't have been past thirty-five, but his hair was solid gray. He held a ceremonial cane in his left hand, and Ezri noticed that he leaned on it just a bit more heavily than she would have expected. His pale eyes fell on Ezri standing below him; looking back, she felt cold in the well-heated chamber.

"I am Tallis Krafor," he said. His voice was serene and proud. "For the records, please state your name."

Ezri straightened, keeping her language as formal as possible. "I am Ezri of clan Tigan."

"I am Kanna Eld," said the old woman. "Tell me your profession."

She took a deep breath. "Starfleet, current rank of lieutenant junior grade, assigned to Deep Space Nine as station's counselor."

Was it Ezri's imagination, or was Krafor's hand shaking a bit as he picked up his data padd? Derision in his voice grated on her ears. "Jadzia Dax, eighth Host, also served on board Deep Space Nine."

Ezri nodded. "That is true."

Krafor looked at her again, and she felt embarrassed for speaking out of turn.

"How would you define Reassociation, Ezri Tigan?" Eld said bluntly.

A shiver went through Ezri's stomach. She tried not to freeze and stammer out something foolish, a headache coming on as she remembered the ice-pit of a Breen cell and the disquieting intimacy of Worf's expression.

"You serve on the same military outpost as your predecessor," the old woman continued. "You come into contact with her acquaintances and her colleagues daily. Tell me how the legacy of Dax is furthered by such a decision."

Oh, that. A little easier to explain.

Ezri's voice rang clear, if not entirely confident. "I arrived on Deep Space Nine and soon found my skills were needed. The station was near the front lines of the Dominion War, and many casualties were treated there. Survivors needed someone who would help them live with the things they had seen. I could not justify turning my back on them when I had the ability to help them."

There was a flurry of notes on the padds in front of the judges. Ezri breathed easier. Now that the big question was out of the way, maybe it was going to get better.

Krafor tipped his head. "This does not explain why you have made no effort to move on, even now that the war is over."

On the other hand, maybe it wasn't.

*****

Julian spent the better part of that day sitting in a small, rather oppressive room. The chairs weren't very comfortable, the window was small and didn't provide much of a view, and the reading material was boring and trite. On the rare occasion that someone else did enter the room, he was given suspicious glances and minimal conversation. At one point, he toyed with the idea that he was being punished for all the times he'd kept his patients waiting, but then rejected the idea. His Infirmary was never this unfriendly, and The Powers That Be couldn't be this unforgiving in their judgment.

More than anything, he was nervous for Ezri. The whole concept of Declaration seemed grim and foreboding, as if some heavy verdict might be handed to her. But this was only a formality, wasn't it? She wasn't on trial for crimes against the state. To his knowledge, the Commission had accepted the circumstances of Ezri's Joining. He couldn't imagine them then turning around and condemning her for something beyond her control.

Then again, the Commission had done many things that he found unimaginable.

His worries had just begun to get the better of him when Ezri finally returned. He heard a light tap and turned to see her framed in the doorway. In this light, with her black hair and dark dress, her face looked wan and colorless.

"Hey," she said.

"Ezri." Julian walked over to her. A quick glance told him her escort was gone for the time being. "How did it go?"

"It ... went." She glanced down at the floor. "I'm just glad it's over. How'd it go for you?"

"Fine," he said. "Didn't feel exactly welcome, but ...." He shrugged.

Ezri's brow creased into a frustrated grimace, and she shook her head. "I'm sorry. We're not known for our hospitality to other races here."

"You don't need to be worried about me," Julian said gently. Then, after a moment of thought, he added "If it's any help, I'll wait for you in Caysil for the next two days."

Her eyes betrayed a glimmer of relief. "That would help," she admitted. "Thanks. I mean, I appreciate you coming, but ... thanks."

There was a moment of silence. Then she took a breath and made an effort to shake off her mood. "Well, we have the rest of the day. What do you want to do next?"

Julian grinned, glad to have good news. "Now that you bring it up... I have a surprise."

A curious smile lit her face. It looked tired, yes, but it was better than nothing. "What do you mean?"

He assumed a secretive expression and pulled a paper brochure from his pocket. She took it and read the elegant writing across the front.

"Lias Remin Theater, Arts District." She glanced at him inquisitively. "Julian?"

"Tickets," he said triumphantly. "I did some checking at the front desk while you were gone yesterday. Apparently a famous dance tour is stopping in Caysil this week, and there's a performance tonight. It was a close call, but I managed to reserve two seats."

"Oh ...." At once, Ezri looked touched and almost embarrassed. "Julian, you didn't have to."

Julian put an arm around her and steered her down the hallway, toward the transporter room. "I had selfish motives, believe me. I guessed that we'd both need a distraction after today, and from the looks of things, I was right." He hugged her shoulders. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Ezri sighed wearily and slumped a little, letting him support her. It was a sign of trust, and it made him feel better. "Sounds great to me," she said.

*****

Tallis Krafor wheezed as he stumbled into the small antechamber off the judges' hall. By now, he was letting the cane support his weight. The Guardian was already waiting calmly with the blessed wooden box. Krafor tried not to look too eager as he saw it.

"Thank you, Guardian. Your loyalty is appreciated."

"I only wish to serve," the Guardian replied. He walked over to Krafor and placed a hand on his belly. "Oh... not good. You've been straining yourself." Closing off the room, he put the box on a table as Krafor sat wearily in a large chair.

"A full day," Krafor mumbled. "Meetings, lectures, Initiations, and that Declaration hearing. I wouldn't have even granted the girl a hearing today if Daiok and Eld hadn't talked me into it. To think that such a Joining must be granted legitimacy...." His words broke off as he gasped for air.

The Guardian clucked his tongue. "You must rest yourself, Parent. Lighten your schedule and let the others handle these matters. It is within your authority."

But Krafor shook his head. He shivered, drawing a heavy breath. "I cannot give them reason to doubt my ability to function, not now. Crase already suspects, and Daiok has started to notice, I know it. I must keep up my appearances."

"It's not that simple anymore," the Guardian insisted. "Especially with the Azure Guard investigating Rheem's death. They discover the truth, and – "

"I'm not worried about the Guard," Krafor said sternly. "I did not ask for your counsel. Just bring me my treatment."

The Guardian immediately bowed his head, his arms opening slightly in a submissive gesture. "Of course, Parent. I meant no disrespect. If you would, please...."

Krafor nodded slightly and removed his robe. The Guardian selected a hypospray from the box and injected the contents into the commissioner's neck. Then he took out a small, thin instrument and smoothed the shirt away from Krafor's abdomen.

The Guardian probed the rounded bulge with gentle fingers. At the touch, the Krafor Symbiont moved spastically, clearly visible through the flesh of the carry pouch. The writhing was sickly, almost panicked; Tallis winced.

Soft, crooning noises escaped the Guardian's lips as he worked. He activated the instrument, and a thin blue beam fanned out from the tip. As he passed the beam over the carry pouch, the Symbiont trembled once more, then sank back and grew still.

Tallis sighed, his breaths feeble but growing steadier. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them they had regained their discipline. "That's better. I will try to rest now."

"May it bring you strength," the Guardian murmured.

The commissioner made a terse sound of acknowledgement. He smoothed his garments into place, rose, and walked toward the door, carrying the cane lightly in his left hand. "I am grateful for your assistance," he said formally.

The Guardian smiled, his eyes blank. "I only wish to serve."