Episode Two | Teaser - Good Night

Chapter 4
Jadzia
The Last Man on Earth

Jadzia was getting nowhere with the transporters. In fact, she was getting nowhere with anything tonight. She was tired and edging in on depressed. She missed her room on Deep Space Nine, her own bed and the replicator programmed with all the things she liked to eat precisely the way she liked them. She missed Quark's and her regular tongo game. She missed the Promenade and her familiar position in Ops.

But most of all she missed Quark. She missed Kira and Morn. She missed Chief O'Brien and she missed Odo. And, god, she missed Ben. What she wouldn't have given to talk to him for just a few minutes right now…

All her experience over all her lifetimes hadn't prepared her for this. Part of her was excited and interested to go where no Trill had gone before—but most of her was just dreading the next seventy years of monotony and danger and unknown. As much as she liked to think she could make it back with Dax intact and pass on a lifetime of interesting experiences no one else would ever know—she knew that was unlikely. Space was vast and dangerous, dark and deadly.

So she did the only thing she could think to do. She got in the turbolift and went to sickbay. Even with any one of the men and women she missed on Deep Space Nine, Julian was, somehow, the sunniest.

And, as she suspected, he was here in his small office on the left side of the small sickbay. She leaned into the small room and smiled. "Good evening, Julian."

"Jadzia…" Julian sighed, rising from his chair. "It is good to see you." He accepted the hug Jadzia offered, holding her for a few seconds longer than she thought he normally would. If she was honest, she had never been more grateful for him.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"Honestly?" He sighed and drew back, slouching into the chair again. "Alright, I think?" He squinted up at her as if not sure of his own words. "I dunno; it's not quite hit me yet, I think. How are you?"

She shrugged. "Making the best of it?"

"Yeah. That's one way of putting it." He looked out at the tiny skickbay.

Jadzia saw three biobeds out there, but that was it. She looked at him and what he'd been working with on his screen. "Planning on redecorating?"

"Nobody told me I was going to be assessing this place for deep space exploration." He sighed and went out into the main sickbay. He brushed his hand over the central console and went to stand at the foot of the nearest biobed before spinning back to look at her, leaning against it. "Not exactly prepared for surgery—and it seems like wishful thinking to assume we'd never need to grow someone a new leg, doesn't it?"

Jadzia shrugged. "I'm sure we'll avoid that for as long as possible."

"We can't even replicate a living tissue replacement. The replicators aren't graded for it." He smiled once, briefly, then looked around. "Hell, it's not even prepared for colds."

"At least…" Jadzia gave him a long look, and redirected. "I'm really happy you're here."

The look he gave her then seemed genuinely, if not painfully, grateful. "I've been thinking the same thing about you…" Julian quickly looked away again, tapping his fingers on the biobed in rhythm before finishing, "Professionally, of course." He smiled. "Platonically."

Right. Even though she was always aware that he was attracted to her… But she'd rebuffed his every attempt to woo her to the point it felt like habit now. It wasn't even that she didn't find him attractive. Sweet. Attentive. Interesting. She'd just been… exploring. That was what she did.

"Julian…"

"Please. Jadzia, you don't have to say anything." He looked back at her. The painful expression was gone, and his smile was genuine. Tired, but real. "I've gotten over it. You've always played it as… well, it has been a bit of a joke, hasn't it? You and me?"

"You don't actually mean that," she said, because how could he?

With a sniff and a shrug, he shook his head. "No. I don't. But I'm not… I don't want to be your 'last man on earth,' you know?" With that, he turned away to the display in the wall that read this biobed. It was, of course, blank. No one else was here.

"I don't know what you mean," she said.

"You and I are friends. We have been, because… well, anyway, you've made it pretty clear you aren't interested." Julian spun toward her, leaning against the wall with the biobed and central console between them. "Now that you don't have a whole station of other options, though—I thought, you know, I don't want to be your… leftovers?" He looked confused at his own term, and shook his head as though that wasn't at all what he wanted to say. "I don't know what I mean."

"Just because I wasn't looking to settle down—"

"No, that's not it." Julian shook his head and looked down at his shoes, and Jadzia didn't realize until just now how much… older he seemed. Not as a rule, probably. But right now? "Your personal life isn't any of my business. But you've got to admit, it's never been me when you had options. There's got to be a reason for that."

Jadzia stood a bit straighter, amazed and almost offended but mostly… proud of him? He'd been a boy when they first met, and… and they grew up so quickly. "I shouldn't be surprised," she said. Honestly, what did she expect? He was right. He'd chased her… and she'd never once let him catch her. She was even sure that one day she might actually let him—but only, she realized, because she thought he'd always be chasing her.

How… cruel.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

He shook his head, holding out a hand in her direction though she was much too far away to take it. She'd never noticed. "No, don't; it's fine. I'm just…" He chuckled darkly and shook his head. "I suppose I'll regret this tomorrow?"

"Well, there's plenty of time for that."

"There certainly is. Seventy years." With an expansive sigh, he turned toward her. "I hope that wasn't out of line. I've just been… thinking. And, of course, you were the first thing on my mind."

With a laugh, because that had sounded like a joke, Jadzia nodded. "Thank you for… for your honesty." And if she was honest, that was exactly the kind of conversation she wished people would have sometimes. Saved a lot of time and pain, actually. "You really should let me apologize, though."

"Nonsense. The heart wants what it wants. And doesn't what it doesn't."

Jadzia grinned. "Does it?"

"Until you tell it otherwise."

"Ah." She didn't know if she agreed with that, and she didn't know if he did, either. "So what plans were you thinking for in here?" she asked, and pointed around the space she now realized was somewhat large for only three beds—though not that much.

Julian grinned, genuinely, as if incredibly pleased that they could just get back to whatever their relationship had been and leave it entirely at that. And she thought it would be awfully hypocritical of her if she didn't feel the same. Tomorrow.

Jadzia watched him walk past her to the office without a single glance in her direction and marveled.

If she had considered what her romantic future would hold in a situation where she, Julian, and a ship full of unknowns were trapped on a ship together—well, the outcome that Julian would preemptively turn her down would never have crossed her mind. There was something gratifying about that.

She followed him to the office and stood behind him to look at the screen.

"We've just got to maximize the space," Julian said after he'd explained the three different layout options he was currently considering. "We could easily fit another bed in here and a cramped surgical bay… but we've also got other priorities."

"Well, adjustments to medical facilities is kind of something you want to have already done when you need it." Jadzia nodded absently, calculating how much power they'd use replicating the parts to a biobed that they'd no doubt have to assemble themselves.

"I couldn't agree more." He sighed and pressed his fingers to his lips in apparent concern. "God, I am simply not allowed to get hurt. We can't afford it."

She laughed. "So, what? No shore leave for you?"

"I don't want to end up with some alien flu or develop sepsis from a cut and have to resort to… well, that the medical hologram is my only choice doesn't mean he'd be my first choice under other circumstances. Though, obviously, he's perfectly competent."

"But it doesn't have your heart." Jadzia glanced at him, and realized he didn't return her gaze like he might have before. A bit teasingly, hopefully—no, he really wasn't interested. Or he was trying not to be. She winced. "Sorry."

"Oh, stop it." He chuckled, and turned toward her. Even took both of her hands in his. He sighed. "Cold hands," he whispered, and shook his head. "Like I said, I'm probably going to regret all that tomorrow, anyway."

"Julian, you've shown more self-awareness and true confidence in the past ten minutes than in the last two years." Jadzia squeezed his fingers. "I'm impressed."

He nodded, and took his hands back. "That's not to say I don't want to have dinner with you. You're the only person I know on this damn ship."

"I'll introduce you to T'Rul. She's a real charmer."

Julian laughed, and that time it was obviously involuntary. There was something about that introduction he truly found funny. "Oh, god. Can you imagine?"

She considered that. "I have a very good imagination."

He nodded, and eyed her almost meaningfully. "I guess I don't." He looked back at his computer for a moment, and then at her. "Well, you're welcome to stick around. I can't promise it'll be very exciting."

"I was planning on a late night with phaser coils, actually…"

"Here's to insomnia." He said and gave a playful nod to toast, but then he frowned. "But seriously, if you can't sleep you know where to find me."

She stared blankly for a moment, letting a smile creep to her lips.

"Platonically," he added, and she could see him blush.

Jadzia winked. "I know." Jadzia let her hand rest on his shoulder for the moment, and brushed off the light impulse to kiss his cheek before walking away. Leaving sickbay.

All things considered, he was exactly right to have burnt that particular bridge between them. She was sure there was someone on this ship for him. He was too kind, too observant, too gracious to be alone for the rest of his life. And she had to admit now that he'd been perfectly honest and she'd been slow enough to listen… she had been cruel, and knowingly so. Perhaps she didn't deserve as much.

Though, there was no point to dwelling on it. She'd just… do differently next time. If there was a next time. There were forty people on this ship, and, as far as she knew, all of them were available.

She could make a really interesting betting pool on this. Who would end up together. Which couple would produce children first. After all, it was practically guaranteed on a voyage of this length. Maybe in a few months once everyone had relax and let reality sink in. Starfleet and Maquis might even get used to fraternizing.

She'd put her latinum on Julian. He'd fraternize first. It might even be with a Maquis. In fact, she hoped it was. Julian would make an excellent Montague to someone else's Capulet, and with the sheer force of his innocent optimism compel the universe to give him a happier ending. And the rest of the Montagues and Capulets along with them.

Jadzia went down to Deck Four with her tricorder and other tools in a case over her shoulder, finding the hatch that led down to phaser and nacelle maintenance. It was just a catwalk, but affectionately labeled "Deck Five" by what seemed to be about half the Defiant's designers. Her tricorder readings from Transporter One had been somewhat illuminating, and she felt like there was an idea in its infancy there… like the echo of a star too far away to see.

Jadzia kicked at the hatch controls, too focused on her tricorder readings to bother with opening it correctly. She knew that if anyone were watching, she'd have to be on her best behavior. She'd make sure her uniform was neat and pressed every day, because she was Starfleet and she was proud—regardless of what Chakotay said the rules were. She'd worked hard to get here, and she enjoyed the life.

This was a bit more adventure than she was used to, she thought, climbing down the ladder. Part of her, though, relished the opportunity. That's what she'd been Joined for.

No matter what, she would be proud of what she did here.

Just as she stepped off the ladder, she heard a clatter behind her and spun to see a familiar Vulcan, seeming stunned as he knelt on the floor, grabbing for a lighted lamp that switched off when he laid hand on it.

"I'm sorry," she said before he could offer any similar sentiment. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, don't apologize." The Vulcan ensign tugged at his shirt as he stood, she thought, self-consciously. "I was just—"

"Ensign Vorik, right?"

He hesitated in confusion. "Yes, ma'am."

Maybe he didn't remember her. She didn't think she'd ever forget him. The first time she'd seen him, he'd almost been stabbed through the heart with a cooling element in Engineering. She hadn't had time to engage in much more pleasantries over the past three days.

"Jadzia Dax," she offered, and didn't know why she'd left off her rank.

"I know," he said. "You attempted to… help me when we first arrived."

Of course, he remembered. What the hell did Vulcans do with psychological trauma like that? As she liked to say, the impersonal questions weren't fun anymore. "Yeah… yeah. How are you doing with that?"

After a pause, Vorik looked at her directly. "I do not understand the question."

Jadzia smiled. "I think you do."

Vorik sighed. "I survived, albeit under peculiar circumstances. Life is… truly random."

That either sounded incredibly well-adjusted, or incredibly dysfunctional. She wasn't a counselor and had never been. Maybe next time. If there was a next time. She studied his lamp for a moment, then the floor where he'd been kneeling.

He must have noticed her interest. "I did not want to disturb my roommate," he said, as if an explanation. "But since you're here—"

"Oh, no, you won't disturb me." In fact, she thought she should probably be the one to go. She was just pacing off nervous energy, essentially. She could chase down efficiency anywhere on the ship. And, as she looked at him, she realized that maybe Engineering was having some trouble with… efficiency. "Is that blood?" She nodded toward the green splotch on his shoulder.

Vorik looked down, but obviously couldn't see it beneath his chin. "Yes," he said anyway. "I had attempted to clean it, but evidently wasn't completely successful. This is my only uniform."

Jadzia frowned. As if enumeration of his wardrobe and attempt to hide a crime was what she wanted to hear. She stepped closer to see where the blood might have come from. "Did your report it?" She didn't want to think about the amount of force it would have taken to draw blood from a Vulcan. That narrowed the possible offenders.

He shook his head. "I said I would overlook this offense."

Jadzia couldn't decide if that was to the crew's benefit or detriment. Obviously, Vorik wasn't sure, either. She could still report it, but she hadn't been there… "I guess I'll trust your judgement. But you won't do that again. Disciplinary actions aren't yours to decide."

Vorik nodded, but it was hard to tell if he agreed. "Yes, ma'am," he said quietly.

To change the subject as quickly as possible, Jadzia nodded to the lamp in his hands. "May I ask what you're doing?"

Vorik looked down at it as if confused. "Meditating," he said, looking up. "Considering that my family likely will have been told about the Defiant's fate, I thought I…" His voice trailed away and his eyes drifted toward the outside hull. He shook his head, almost helplessly. "It's illogical."

Jadzia didn't realize that Vulcan telepathy could work over such great distances. Or any distance, actually. Still, she said, "I don't know. Telepathy doesn't necessarily obey the laws of physics."

"I suppose." Vorik eyed her.

"Is that what you were doing? Reaching out?"

He shrugged. "As I said, it's illogical."

Jadzia pulled up her tricorder again, walking to the nearest junction for the transceiver and started scanning. "To a mate, then, or—?"

"My brother." She glanced at him, since he'd seemed eager to correct her. Didn't say anything before he could add, as if in apology, "Taurik."

"Taurik?" she repeated, and he nodded.

"He's on the Enterprise," he offered, and Jadzia had to smile. Vorik was an ensign, and most ensigns Jadzia knew wanted the Enterprise as their first assignment. Even for later ranks, it was a sign of great accomplishment, and she bet that was something even a Vulcan could be proud of. Vorik went on, "He offered to transfer for the opportunity for us to remain together, instead. That was, of course, illogical. We had been together our whole lives; we would return to Vulcan together on leave, and—"

When he suddenly paused and shrugged, Jadzia realized he must have been younger than she originally thought. He must have been more hurt by the distance between himself and his family—and Taurik wasn't just a brother. Vulcans tended to yield more distant family bonds than most other species enjoyed, probably in part because Vulcan males were only capable of reproducing every seven years. Vulcans siblings didn't arrange to take leave together. Vulcan siblings didn't champion each other over their wives. But that wasn't what he was describing…

"So, he's your… twin?"

"Correct."

She nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy. Jadzia had only one sister and a mother in the Alpha Quadrant, but she had known the joys and heartbreaks of all kinds of siblings both older and younger over her lifetimes. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "You must miss him terribly."

He didn't say anything, just nodded a bit distantly. Probably because it was painfully obvious he missed him, or perhaps Vulcans didn't miss people or things. Either that or he was trying to plan his escape to the ladder directly behind Jadzia.

"I mean, you must be close," she added, and hoped that made up for it.

"We are," he said, with a slight wince. When she looked at him in concern, he must have taken that as a request to explain himself. "Vulcans are capable of sensing each other's presence even over lightyears, but twins are born with the telepathic bond that other Vulcans must create and maintain over time. We don't have to initiate or maintain it; it simply… is. However…" He sighed, and ran his thumbs over the smooth edges of his black lamp. "Whatever the reason, I can no longer sense him. Our bond is broken."

Jadzia knew little about telepathy, but she knew something about closeness. Something about the kind of connection that made absence even physically painful. She smiled a bit, even though a Vulcan was unlikely to find that comforting.

So she went back to her work and offered instead, "You know, I've met many, many species, and I can't think of a single culture that doesn't consider twins something special. Entire mythologies spring up around them, and even twins in non-telepathic species share a mystical bond that no one can explain. In fact." She smiled at him again with a slight shrug. "I'd say that special bond is as close to a universal truth as we have."

After a hesitation, Vorik nodded. "I agree." The acknowledgement was soft, almost embarrassed, maybe because what she'd said was completely illogical.

If Jadzia didn't know better, she'd say he was… heartbroken.

She didn't know better. She watched him, trying not to be too obvious about it. She knew nothing about Vulcans. Very little. Curzon's work as an ambassador put her in most of the close contact she'd had, and he wasn't too enthused by their restraint. Tobin liked them, but that was exactly because he didn't know anything about them: insofar as they liked anything, they liked to be quiet and intellectual—like Tobin.

Vorik looked at the lamp still in his hands. "May I assist?"

"Oh!" Jadzia smiled, glancing at the tools in her hands, and then at the line of inductors in the wall directing energy toward the phaser cannon assembly. "I'm just trying to figure out a way to put the phaser cannons into a deeper sleep, metaphorically."

"Ah." Vorik eyed the cylindrical nodes in the wall, the faint red stripes brightening in rhythm. "Limiting power consumption to conserve that needed to subsist over the next seventy-thousand lightyears."

"Exactly." She wouldn't have put it so bluntly or depressingly, but that was about it. She looked back at the readings from her tricorder before setting it aside. "The Defiant wasn't built for efficiency—she's a razorbeast. Intense bursts of power with little regard for energy consumption. You can't be too worried about energy consumption if a Cardassian warship blows you out of the sky."

Vorik seemed to think about that, and at least not disagree. "Indeed." He went to the nearest panel beside the nodes, pulling the cover off. Jadzia didn't notice he'd had an engineering tricorder clipped to his trousers until he removed it and started scanning.

That was, probably, another thing Vulcans liked. Helping and generally being useful.

She watched Ensign Vorik tune down the banks until they precisely matched the power input—they would need to add this to their maintenance schedule, but it was drawing as little energy as possible while still being available at full-power if needed. She'd already finished tightening the recursive loops intended to preserve power. That would buy them months in the long run.

Because who knew what was out there?

Ensign Vorik stepped back from the phasers and looked at her. "These calculations are impressive," he said. "I would be interested to see any further thoughts you have to conserve energy, however…"

"You've been working all day."

"Seventeen hours in Engineering," he said.

"Aren't you tired?"

He moved is head in a gesture that was neither a nod nor a shake, but didn't say anything.

She took that as a yes. "Well, I'm tired." She packed up her things, and Vorik retrieved his lamp. Idly ran his fingers along the edge while he waited, apparently, for her. She hurried to join him at the ladder up to Deck Four. "Thank you for your help, Ensign."

He nodded, and took a small step back to indicate she should go first. She was partway up the ladder when she heard him add, quietly, "Thank you, Commander."

With a final encouraging smile, Jadzia took the turbolift back up to Deck One. To her surprise, she thought she might actually be able to sleep.