So it Begins

Posted on Sun Mar 17th, 2019 @ 9:19am by

Mission: Episode 1: Hell is a four letter word
Location: Civilian Shuttle - Enroute to Deep Space 9
Timeline: Prior to Elysium's arrival at DS9
589 words - 1.2 OF Standard Post Measure

"Are you absolutely certain there's nothing I can get for you?" the eager young ensign asked.

With a barely constrained sigh, Doctor Merella Swii switched off her PADD and placed it neatly on the empty seat beside her. "Do you know how many times you've asked me that question?" she said coolly.

Looking over his shoulder, perhaps on the off chance that she might be speaking to someone else, the ensign shook his head. "No, Doctor."

"Three times."

A pleasant smile drew its way across his face. "Sorry, doctor, it's just that --"

"My answers are not to be trusted?" she offered.

"No, of course --"

"You think me indecisive? Unintelligent? Forgetful?"

His growing smile faded as easily as it had come.

"Perhaps you think yourself unusually persuasive?" She folded her arms across her lap and leaned forward in her seat, looking up at him with the seriousness doctors often reserved for the most grave news. "Is it just the Trill you believe to be too stupid to leave unattended? Are we alone incapable of deciding that we don't want one of your replicated refreshments? Or does your disdain for 'lower lifeforms' in fact extend to women in general?"

His face blanched, the blood pulled away by equal parts horrified shock and insult. "Doctor Swii," he objected, "I assure you --"

"If you dare speak to me again on this trip, I promise you that you will regret it. Profoundly." Her eyes narrowed. "Believe me."

The ensign's mouth hung open. For a moment it appeared as though he might actually call her bluff. He was certainly on the verge of saying something.

The doctor raised a daring eyebrow.

The ensign closed his mouth and retreated back to the cockpit.

Coward, Merella thought to herself.

Starfleet.

She shook her head. An organization of pretenders and pushovers.

This was supposed to represent the next stage in the development for Qwyyn? This was how her sister hoped to save the symbiont from living out the rest of its days in the caves beneath the Symbiosis Commission, never again to be joined to another host?

What a joke.

She fetched her PADD once more and continued reviewing the agenda she had laid out for her visit to the Elysium. Already she knew what to expect from the records Starfleet had provided to the Trill government: a bunch of glowing reviews from colleagues and friends, willing to bend over backwards to make it seem as though Liselle Qwyyn was the model officer and the ideal joined Trill. They would say whatever they thought it was that she wanted to hear. Merella, of course, would see through the facades and get straight to the truth that lie beneath. She would prepare a proper report, bereft of saccharine emotion and hollow platitudes.

And unlike Starfleet's little man piloting this shuttle, she would not need to hear the truth of the matter three times before it finally registered.

When the ensign finally returned to the main cabin, the doctor lowered her PADD once more. She couldn't help but notice how careful he was not to make eye contact with her.

"We're on final approach now," he announced to the room at large. "Please gather your belongings and prepare to disembark."

Merella leaned forward, looking across the aisle to where her husband had long since collapsed into sleep. From beyond the port window she could see Deep Space Nine. Soon, the Elysium too would arrive.

"So it begins."

OFF

Doctor Merella Swii
Senior Representative - Trill Symbiosis Commission