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  Dax frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The parasites may have deliberately scattered those minerals on the surface, hoping to conceal their exact whereabouts. Since that time, they may have either left or died.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Ro said, then raised her phaser. “Still, I’m not going to take any chances.”

  “I agree,” Vlu said. “I’d feel a good deal better if we could actually find some dead parasites here. That would tend to prove that the entire hive died when the main reproducing female was killed.”

  “At the very least, we have to verify that this . . . nest is empty,” Julian said, nodding.

  Despite the wan light, Dax could see that Ro was turning in a complete circle, her tricorder raised. “I’m all for that,” Ro said. “The question is, where exactly do we look?”

  Dax’s eyes flitted back to the cave walls, whose glowing, veinlike markings now seemed to call to her, even as they continued to churn up some of Audrid’s most painful memories.

  “This way,” she said. She began moving forward, following the faintly glowing lines in the stone—

  —and she was once again deep inside the frozen comet where more than a century ago Audrid, her husband Jayvin Vod, and a Starfleet team had encountered the first parasite, a creature whose genetic makeup and biological processes had scanned as so similar to those of the Trill symbionts. How excited Audrid been at the prospect of exploring that relationship, perhaps even discovering the long-debated origin of Trill symbiosis.

  But that wasn’t what happened.

  Quicker than any predator Audrid had ever seen, the creature launched itself through the faceplate of Jayvin’s environmental suit. It didn’t take long for the thing to hijack the body, intellect, and soul—both humanoid and symbiont—of the man who had fathered Audrid’s children.

  Speaking through the enslaved Jayvin, the creature referred to itself as “the taker of gist,” and called the inhabitants of Trill—its genetic cousins—“the weak ones.” It said it was paving the way for the arrival of countless others of its kind, creatures whose only desire was the indiscriminate destruction of the Trill. It called the comet a “ship,” sending it on a Trillward trajectory using directed surface outgassing—a process evidently mediated by the “veins,” the creature’s term for the multitude of branching lines that scored the comet’s complex network of interior passages.

  Ezri Dax stared in fascination at the “veins” as she continued leading the group toward whatever lay at the nest’s center. Though she found the striations disturbing, she also found she was having great difficulty looking away from them. She reflected that the markings here couldn’t have fulfilled the same function as those Audrid and Jayvin had found inside the comet so long ago; rather than steering the parasites toward their intended victims, perhaps the lines here served as lures for the humanoid pawns they needed in order to bring their inexplicable hatred to fruition on Trill.

  If this place were still full of live creepy-crawlies, we might all be helpless or dead by now, Dax thought. Maybe even Vlu and Taran’atar.

  The group came to a stop before a raised, rocky formation that appeared to have been thrust up from the stone floor eons ago; the natural structure stood about a meter high and vaguely resembled a cylindrical altar. A small basin had been carved into the top face of the stone; it was filled with a congealing, halffrozen mass of viscous, faintly glowing material.

  Dr. Juarez, the xenobiologist from Fleet Captain Pike’s Starfleet team, stood before the rocky basin where the mysterious entity lay below a gleaming sheet of cometary ice. “There’s a life-form of some kind in there . . . complex arrangement, carbon-based, it should be frozen, but . . . I can’t get an exact size, it seems to be shifting—”

  Run! Ezri Dax shrieked from behind an impermeable veil of memory. But these were Audrid’s recollections, not hers. There was nothing she could do to change what was about to happen.

  “Between eight and twelve centimeters long,” Juarez continued, studying his tricorder closely. “And according to this, it’s at least four thousand years old.”

  Audrid knew from the far more precise scans that she and Jayvin had already performed that the creature was actually at least two millennia older than that—

  Ro reactivated her wrist lamp, forcing the glowing striations to vanish from Dax’s sight. Once again, Dax blinked rapidly as dark spots briefly danced before her dazzled eyes.

  Ro bent over the fetid mass inside the basin, inspecting it.

  “No!” Dax shouted.

  Something shot out of the ice-covered pool, something small and dark. Simultaneously, the liquid’s frozen surface splintered into innumerable flechette-like shards.

  Jayvin staggered back silently, engulfed in the horrible glow, the atmosphere venting from his environmental suit’s shattered helmet in a rapidly crystallizing halo—

  Audrid saw Jayvin turn and snatch a phaser from the grip of one of Pike’s security officers. Jayvin shoved the man down, shattering his helmet. Then he raised the weapon and fired—

  Audrid Dax knew she had lost Jayvin Vod forever.

  Dax suddenly realized that everyone was staring at her, their wrist lamps throwing bizarre, tentacular shadows across the chamber.

  “Ezri,” Julian called, his voice tinged with worry. He approached, his medical tricorder pointed toward her. “Are you all right?”

  Damn. Damn. Damn!

  “I’m fine, Julian. You can put that away. What’s the verdict on the life signs?”

  “Nothing, Lieutenant,” Vlu said carefully, as though she were repeating herself. “We found the remains of several parasites in the pool, but none were still alive.”

  Dax felt a rush of relief at the news. Then she noticed that Julian had not yet put his tricorder away. He was continuing to scan her.

  “Really, Julian, I’m fine.”

  He paused his scan, scowled at the tricorder display, then closed the instrument. Fixing her with a piercing stare, he said, “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  She felt her hackles rise. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? “You tell me, Julian. I’m sure it’s nothing your tricorder can’t pick up.”

  “This is one of those times when my instincts are telling me more than my tricorder can. You cried out as though you were having a nightmare. Or reliving a traumatic memory.”

  “We’ve already established that the parasites possess limited telepathic abilities,” Vlu said. “Perhaps their decomposing nervous tissue can exert some residual influence on members of related species.” The Cardassian doctor’s gaze momentarily lit upon Dax’s abdomen as if to underscore the close relationship that existed between the symbionts and the alien parasites. Dax frowned silently at the unspoken comparison.

  “Some of the creatures may have abandoned this place in favor of a more secure nest,” said Taran’atar, who appeared impatient to get the mission back on track. Dax was grateful for the interruption.

  “I doubt that,” Ro said. “I think it’s likelier that they all died down here after they lost their telepathic link with the reproducing female.”

  “Why?” Vlu asked.

  “Because I think they’re smart enough not to leave any bodies behind for us to study. If any of them had survived, they probably would have tried a little harder to cover their tracks as they fled.”

  Vlu nodded as she conducted some additional scans of the cave floor. “You may be right. One would think they would have taken more care not to leave so many DNA traces lying about, come to think of it. One of their hosts could easily have eliminated those simply by using a phaser on the way out.”

  Dax thought this scenario made perfect sense. But she also wondered if this was because it was exactly what she wanted to believe.

  “None of this tells us why they chose such a remote base of operations as Minos Korva in the first place,” Vlu said. “I don’t understand why they would set up shop so close to Cardassian space. They don’t
appear terribly interested in us, after all. Cardassians, I mean.”

  Ro shook her head. “No, they don’t. But they are interested in Trill. I think they originally intended to mount their next offensive on the Trill homeworld directly from here. But getting hold of Shakaar gave them something even better: the opportunity to infect a population of billions on a world about to enter the Federation. The damage they could have done from a position like that would have been incalculable.”

  “Trill appears to have dodged a bullet,” Julian said. “That’s something to be thankful for.”

  Dax nodded, her spirits buoyed by the prospect of leaving this horrible place forever. She could only hope that her homeworld could soon put the parasite horror behind it and move on.

  “If there’s nothing more to see here, I’d like to get back to the runabout,” Dax said, taking a step backward.

  She felt something hard crunch and scrape between her boots and the cold stone floor, breaking her chain of thought. Turning her wrist light back on, she cautiously dropped to one knee to take a closer look at whatever had gotten underfoot.

  She stood, holding up a curved shard of pottery that measured perhaps a few centimeters across. It was clearly a manufactured object, and looked extremely old.

  “Can anyone hazard a guess about this thing?” Dax said.

  Julian shrugged and offered her a lopsided smile. “Perhaps the parasites enjoy making ceramics. Even monsters must need hobbies.”

  Dax felt a tart rejoinder springing to her lips, but it was diverted by the chirp of her combadge. Since everyone who might be communicating with her via combadge was present, it had to be an incoming signal from the runabout they had left parked at their landing site a couple of klicks to the north.

  Handing Julian the ceramic fragment, she tapped her combadge and said, “Dax here. Go ahead.”

  “Incoming priority message from Captain Kira Nerys on Federation Starbase Deep Space 9,” the runabout’s computer reported, its pleasant alto voice displaying not a trace of emotion.

  “Send it through.”

  “Channel open.”

  “Dax here. Go ahead, Captain.”

  Though the scattering effects of the refractory minerals in the topsoil overhead created a background wash of low static, the runabout’s powerful subspace transmitter had established a strong connection with Dax’s combadge. A familiar voice reverberated through the tomblike chamber, muffled only slightly by the dozens of light-years that separated the station from Minos Korva. “How’s the search going, Lieutenant?”

  “It’s going just the way we hoped it would,” Dax said. “We found the parasites’ nest and confirmed that First Minister Shakaar was lured here and probably infected here as well. The parasites themselves are all dead now, and have been for some time. We’ve found no trace of infection among the planet’s population.”

  Kira paused a moment before answering. “Good work. That goes for all of you. Well done.”

  Despite the congratulatory words, something in Kira’s tone warned Dax that whatever else she had to say couldn’t be good.

  “Ezri, Starfleet Command has just informed me that the Trill Senate is planning to conduct official inquests into the entire parasite affair.”

  Dax’s eyebrows climbed skyward. “That’s kind of surprising, Captain. I thought the last thing the Trill government would want right now is publicity about the parasites’ attack on the homeworld.”

  “I’m sure you’re right about that, Ezri. But the government no longer seems to have any choice in the matter. The word has already gotten out among the Trill populace. Your people are demanding that their leaders come clean.”

  “About the relationship between the symbionts and the parasites?” Dax imagined she could feel her symbiont squirming uncomfortably in her abdomen.

  “That seems to be part of it. They also aren’t happy about the fact that officers of the Trill Defense Ministry have participated in the assassination of a high Bajoran official. However justified.”

  Dax clearly heard the pain that underlay this reference to Shakaar, who had once been Kira’s lover and whose orders Kira had followed during her years as a resistance fighter.

  “The parasites and the assassination have caused ripples that go way beyond Trill,” Kira continued. “Officials on other Federation planets are starting to howl about ‘Trill secretive-ness,’ and they’re making demands that something be done about it. Starfleet Command believes that the Federation Council might even be forced to take action if things don’t calm down soon.”

  Dax swallowed hard as she imagined the worst possible outcome: Trill’s status as a Federation member being placed in jeopardy.

  When she replied, her voice came out almost as a croak. “What can we do?”

  “I think the question is, what can you do?” Kira said.

  “Me? Come again?”

  “You’re a joined Trill and a Starfleet officer, and you have contacts in the Trill government who could use your guidance and assistance.”

  Dax considered reminding Kira that her closest contacts inside the Trill government—Hiziki Gard, an internal security operative, and Taulin Cyl, a general in the Defense Ministry—were the very ones responsible for Shakaar’s assassination. As long-term “watchers” of the parasites, as well as keepers of the now-compromised secret of the parasite-symbiont genetic relationship, Gard and Cyl were arguably part of the current problem more than part of any solution. Of course, the creature that had hijacked Shakaar’s body had left Gard and Cyl little choice other than killing him. But still . . .

  “My . . . guidance,” Dax echoed incredulously, though she knew what was probably coming next.

  “Also, Admiral Ross and I agree that your testimony at the upcoming Trill public hearings could be invaluable in heading off a real crisis,” Kira said. “We need you on Trill, Ezri.”

  No. The one you need is Curzon, Dax thought. A real career diplomat, not just someone who hears the echoes of his memories.

  Aloud, she said, “All right. We’re just about finished mopping up here. Once we get back to the station, I’ll—”

  “I want you to take the Rio Grande directly to Trill,” Kira said, interrupting. “Immediately. Tenmei is en route to Minos Korva in the Nile to pick up the rest of your team. You should get them back to the Federation settlement as soon as possible.”

  Dax hesitated only a moment before answering; ever since she’d made the switch from a counseling career to Starfleet’s command track, she had always tried her best to expect the unexpected.

  “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”

  * * *

  After returning with the team to the surface, Dax wasted no time ordering the Rio Grande’s computer to begin preflight preparations and to beam everyone in the party aboard the runabout. Seated beside her in the cockpit, Julian silently stared out at the icy, twilit wasteland of Minos Korva’s south pole as Dax operated the transporter controls, sending Vlu, Ro, and Taran’atar directly to the nearby Federation settlement.

  She turned her seat toward him. “Your turn, Julian. It’s time I got under way to Trill.”

  He nodded absently, then rose slowly from the copilot’s chair. But instead of walking aft toward the runabout’s transporter pad, he doffed his heavy field jacket and tossed it beside hers on one of the other cockpit seats.

  “I’m going with you,” he said simply.

  Ezri shook her head gently. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Julian. This is Trill business, and—”

  “—and Trill are notoriously reticent about letting non-Trill in on their affairs, yes, I know.” Though he had interrupted her, he continued to smile ingratiatingly as he resumed his place beside her in the copilot’s chair.

  “I appreciate the offer, Julian,” she said, looking directly into his dark eyes. “But I really think this is something I ought to handle on my own.”

  “And I think you’re going to need my help. Or at least my moral support. You told me
yourself how guilty you feel over Audrid’s cover-up of the discovery of that first parasite more than a century ago. And I’ve seen with my own eyes how traumatic this entire business has been for you. That parasite nest must have dredged up some painful memories.” He paused. “Memories of the parasite that killed Audrid’s husband, unless I’m terribly mistaken.”

  Suddenly feeling defensive, Dax crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back in the pilot’s seat. She knew it was useless to deny his assertions; he’d been at Jadzia’s side five years earlier when Dax’s equally painful suppressed memories of an illfated joining with the psychotic killer Joran Belar had resurfaced. Julian obviously knew the signs of mnemonic trauma. Still, she didn’t have to like it.

  “Well. This is all very ‘who counsels the counselor?’ isn’t it?” she said.

  “You’re not a counselor anymore, remember?”

  A deep frown sprang to her brow unbidden. “And you never were one. I love you, Julian, but I think you’re straying a bit too far from your specialty.”

  He leaned toward her, taking her hand between both of his in an obvious effort to soothe her. Looking into his chocolatebrown eyes as his hands warmed hers, she had to concede that it was working.

  “Listen, Ezri, I’m not trying to beat up on you. And I can give you three very solid, rational reasons why I should accompany you to Trill.”

  For the first time in what seemed like hours, she returned his easy smile. “All right. Let’s hear them.”

  He began ticking off points on his long surgeon’s fingers. “One: We haven’t spent nearly enough time alone together since before this whole parasite business erupted. Two: I have entirely legitimate medical concerns about your current emotional state after observing your behavior here on Minos Korva.”

  Dax opened her mouth to protest, but he rode right over her words. “And three: I outrank you, my darling.” His smile became an impish grin as he gestured toward the lieutenant commander’s pips, two gold and one black, that adorned his collar.

  Anger and affection wrestled for a protracted moment before calling it a draw. She disengaged her hand from his, turned her seat forward, and quickly entered several commands into the instrument panel. The Rio Grande rose swiftly into the gray Minos Korvan sky.