Making a Treaty with the Devil

Princess Sasami's fleet, Rebecca Brandes commanding - Deep Space

Following the victory over the Decepticon supply depot, Rebecca was prepared for more boring cruises through space. The grand offensives against the Decepticons and - to her surprise - their allies from a presently-undetermined organic race were being fought by the regular Juraian military. Fleets of Juraian cruisers and battleships were on the front lines, engaging Decepticon ships in captured territory and unclaimed systems the robots had begun colonizing for their war efforts. The irregular fleet Rebecca commanded, consisting of the Juraian Soja-type battleship that served as the princess' flagship, the J-Ark, and a dozen-plus Mandalorian vessels, was being used to patrol the outskirts of the Juraian empire's territory for enemy incursions. The robot aggressors seemed content to avoid Cybertron and other Autobot worlds, preferring instead to plunder the resources of unaffiliated planets teeming with uptapped resources.


That made for pretty boring patrols, but things were about to get more interesting.

Rebecca, currently commanding from the flagship's bridge, was in the middle of studying a map of the overall war effort when an alarm began to ring.

"Enemy fleet incoming!" an officer reported. "Estimated strength twenty Supreme-type vessels and one unknown!"

"Give me a visual of the Unknown," Rebecca ordered, her curiosity piqued. "And put the fleet on yellow alert."

The bridge crew was clearly puzzled at only going to yellow alert with enemy ships in sight, but complied. The image of a large vessel, almost resembling Terran aircraft carriers, appeared on the screen with the now-familiar Decepticon emblem painted on its bow.

"Calculate their speed and trajectory," Rebecca continued ordering. "Have they launched any fighter analogues?"

"Direct intercept course for our ships, no fighters deployed, and..." the officer paused for a moment. "They're coming in at a cruising speed, not a combat speed."

"Enemy flagship is hailing us, sir," the communications officer reported. "Their leader says he wants to parlay."

"Oh, great, some random flunky probably wants to challenge me to a duel or something..." Rebecca sighed. "Prepare cannons and..."

"Negative, Admiral!" the officer rudely interrupted. "It's...it's their Emperor, Scourge."

Rebecca's interest was really piqued now. A personal chat with the bastard machine who'd helped Quick Fix almost drop a giant floating island on Las Vegas?

"Well, I'll take the call this time," Rebecca feigned nonchalance. "Main screen turn on."

Moments later, the metallic visage of Scourge appeared. The would-be Decepticon Emperor of Destruction sat comfortably in a chair almost ostentatious enough to call a throne, his posture casual.

"Greetings, Admiral Brandes. I thank you for taking my call!" Scourge beamed, gesturing grandly.

"I still have a few minutes left on my cell phone I wanted to use," Rebecca deadpanned. "May I ask the purpose of this social call?"

"Ah, straight to the point. Excellent." Scourge rumbled happily. "I have come to negotiate a treaty with you."

"Ending the war so soon?" Rebecca gasped melodramatically. "Unfortunately, the only thing I have the authority to offer you is a prison cell and three Energon cubes a day."

"Generous indeed," Scourge answered. "No, this is not to be a treaty between the Decepticons and Jurai. This is one you have all the authority you need to negotiate."

"Oh, now I AM interested in this," Rebecca chuckled. "Alright, Emperor, what are your terms?"

Scourge's throne moved to the side and a display appeared, showing the planet Earth.

"They're quite simple: Decepticons of all factions, not just my own, will avoid Earth for the duration of the present Decepticon/Jurai war. I will even appoint an Enforcer to the planet to uphold my end of the agreement."

"Why should I care if Earth is neutral?" Rebecca asked. "I don't live there; I just visit once in a while."

"Ah, but your Conjunx Endura, your....spouse, I believe you would say, currently resides there, does she not?" Scourge countered. "Not to mention dearest Princess Sasami."

The display changed from Earth to a live image of the Royal Pain, showing Vina giving Sammy a lesson in how to use a Power Armor frame. The two practiced martial arts for a moment, pulling at Rebecca's heart until the moment Scourge returned the focus to him.

"As you can see, my agents are already watching them," Scourge continued. "Maybe they could repel the ones I have in place now, but what about the next?"

Rebecca gripped the armrest of her chair until she hurt, using that pain to keep a straight face. "I see. It's obvious how I and Jurai would benefit, but what good does it do you to stay off Earth?"

"Quite simple: it doesn't. The planet is rich in energy sources, which is why Decepticons have been drawn to it for decades. However..." Scourge began.

The tyrant rose from his throne.

"In exchange for the boon of leaving Earth free of Decepticon influence, you - in turn - would not be allowed to call upon your Kobber friends for assistance in our war, no matter how vested an interest they might have because of Beatbox and Quick Fix."

Ah, so there it was. Forfeit any possible assistance from a living, breathing, drinking group of living weapons and the robots would ignore Earth until the Juraians were crushed.

"An interesting proposal. Please give me a moment to consider it," Rebecca considered, trying to keep panic from her face.

"Take two," Scourge added as the channel was cut.

There was no way she could realistically believe that a robot called a Decepticon would do anything BUT deceive her. She could hardly believe he'd keep his word to keep robots off of the planet and definitely believed he'd made this proposal to keep Kobbers from wrecking his fleets. On one hand, she hadn't even PLANNED to ask them for help. On the other hand, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Indeed, she could agree to the terms and violate them later; it wasn't a binding agreement between two governments. More like a gentleman's agreement that both sides knew the other was going to violate eventually. Not to mention, if Scourge DID gun for her family, he'd bring the Kobbers upon him, treaty or not.

"Open the channel back up," she ordered. "Emperor Scourge, I accept your terms. Decepticons will leave Earth alone and Kobbers will leave the Decepticons alone."

"Excellent! I'm quite pleased to find you so...reasonable about this," Scourge beamed, clapping his hands together. "Then the...oh, it needs a good name...the Brandes Accord has been struck. I shall immediately appoint an Enforcer and send him to Earth."

"And he'll just be there to keep other Decepticons away?" Rebecca asked.

"Of course," Scourge answered. "Well, he will also be there to make sure your Kobber friends don't try interfering. Enforcement DOES run both ways."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. Of COURSE it did. "Very well. Who is he?"

"You may have seen him in action once already in one of those Fites. He is Borodan the Hunter and thoroughly and bafflingly-incorruptible."

"I'll send word ahead to expect him then," Rebecca nodded, satisfied.

"Very good, and in the spirit of parlay, my fleet shall depart this system immediately," Scourge stated, waving to one of his officers to carry out an order. "I expect, in turn, for you to honor our parlay and not seek to strike while our backs are turned."

"Of course. Good day, Emperor."

Rebecca motioned for the connect to be cut and muttered under her breath, "Arrogant bastard."

On board his flagship, Scourge muttered, "Organic twit."

~

Las Vegas

A Gigan-shaped robot approached the Den of Lions. He had received word from his Emperor and immediately set out to begin his assignment.

War is Hell...if Hell is the line at the DMV...

Unidentified Star System, 1200 hours...

Rebecca listened idly at the announcement that a flight of Mandalorian stealth-equipped fighters had launched from their carrier at roughly the time she had scheduled them to launch, barely registered the announcement that they would be sending back telemetry data to the ships of her fleet, and almost nodded off when her ship's computer reported that missile tubes were being loaded and would be ready to fire when a solid lock was achieved.


"Count on machines to manage to something as exciting as launching a missile so damn boring," she thought to herself, stifling a yawn.

She'd need to issue a few orders personally in a few minutes, but after that there was nothing to do but wait. After her ships had tracked a squadron of Decepticons back to a hidden base, she'd flinched at the sight of the thick asteroid belt. She didn't know how her robotic foes were getting their corvette-sized Sentinel ships through that rock field, but only the J-Ark and her fighters were nimble enough to actually maneuver through without getting pulverized and no way in Hell was she sending unsupported fighters in there.

And so she'd decided on a less risky/more lengthy method of bombarding the enemy base with bunker buster missiles. The only problem was that missiles were too dumb to maneuver through the asteroid field as well. Hence sending out squadrons of fighters with as much stealth and sensor equipment as could be scrapped up, meticulously scanning the asteroid field while the combined processing power of three Mandalorian cruisers tried to forecast the trajectories of a few million...nay...billion tons of rock.

Not to mention there had to be an equal number of ships on the lookout for hostile reinforcements, ships scrambling to bring as many missiles from a supply depot as possible, and a hundred other difficult-to-coordinate tasks, none of which actually required her direct input.

And so Rebecca waited. She tried watching a movie, reading some books she'd downloaded from Gloria's library, and even took a moment to perform a few backlogged repairs aboard J-Ark. That damn water heater would face her wrath. For a moment, she WAS needed and she ran back to her bridge covered in grease.

"Sighted Decepticon freighter, sank same," came back a report from a Crusader gunship.

"Confirm it and get back to me," Rebecca ordered, stifling a yawn until the connection was cut.

Indeed, there was very little for her to do at the moment and, to her later chagrin, she actually nodded off. Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice as a quick alarm jolted her awake.

"Trajectories plotted," one of her calculator cruisers reported.

"All ships, five second laser barrage on target coordinates, then do a wide-field tractor beam sweep followed by a full missile barrage. Fire until dry, then begin reloading," Rebecca ordered.

It was very precise. Her people WERE professionals. She watched as cannons fired, bits of rock were quickly emptied from one cone of space, and thousands of missiles were fired into the gap, with slighly more than half of them actually getting through to the base - better than projected. The principle asteroid determined to be the Decepticon space station began breaking apart, spewing metal into space as robotic warriors attempted to escape. Rebecca's fleet fired again, though she ordered nobody to pursue them further into the field; she'd settle for shattering one of their supply lines if it meant a minimum of casualties on her side. Her comm channel suddenly erupted in Mandalorian battle cries; apparently some of the hostile Decepticons had chose to try running right through her fleet despite her current bombardment.

A chorus of "Oya" and "Kandosii" rang out; hostiles eliminated. There were be songs sung tonight, some tales embellished, and a few more comrades to remember each night.

"Attention all hands," Rebecca said, activating a fleet-wide channel. "Mission accomplished. Stand down to yellow alert and prepare to move on to our next destination."

Rebecca flipped the channel off as the cheers renewed; she wanted nothing more than to share in their enthusiasm, to yearn for the glories of more battles, but she needed to focus. As much as she wanted to chase down Decepticons all day e'ery day, to be back with Vina on Earth, there was too much at stake to be so reckless.

That didn't mean she couldn't still share in the celebrating though. She quickly donned her armor and dashed to her personal fighter.

"Netra'gal with Clan Lok or Tihaar with Clan Tenau? So much drinking, so little time..."

The Final Frontiers - Rebecca: War Begins

Year 2405 - Starfleet Technical Services Academy, Mars

Rebecca's arms looped slowly about, her hands curled up like claws. She lithely moved about like a leopard about to strike, taking deep breaths as she moved through the motions of the Klingon martial art Mok'bara. She silently thanked the gods of class scheduling that her roommate's classes were scheduled for when she had free time, allowing her to take over the entire dorm room for her relaxation and meditation techniques. It also allowed her to the ridiculous heavy metal dubstep that she was oddly relaxed by.

She frequently needed time for relaxation though, thinking incorrectly that the anger and indignity she'd felt during her high school years would cease once she entered Starfleet's school for noncoms, that minds working to better themselves to in turn better society through Starfleet service would be above jealously over receiving a symbiote partner.

HA.

If anything, the Trills who had washed out of the candidacy program and joined Starfleet seemed to feel even more negatively than the Trill high schoolers. Nobody had taken a swing at her yet - though Rebecca felt THAT was inevitable as long as she kept overshadowing them, never mind that none of her previous selves had ever been engineering students - but few were the Trill students who hadn't at some point snapped at her or given her thinly-veiled insults for what they failed to prove worthy of.

 In defiance of her attempts at relaxing, Rebecca imagined that she was performing full-power strikes upon her classmates with each motion. Shatter Quont's nose. Box Calisin's ears. Crush a few of Gilz's teeth.

Fortunately for her calm, the communicator began to chime. Incoming call from U.S.S. Carol. Better get presentable.

Rebecca quickly threw on her uniform jacket and turned on her viewscreen before the yellow-uniformed security officer on the distant starship appeared. Long, blonde hair framed the familiar face of Vina.

"Practicing mok'bara again, I see," Vina chuckled.

"You're getting good at reading people," Rebecca confirmed. "Must be all that interrogating you do on those deep space missions."

"Oh yeah, I'm constantly reading these Vulcan mind-reading manuals and studying how to discern why someone's face is flushed," Vina snorted. "No, I see your mat's out again. Kill anyone this time?"

"Only in my dreams, V. Only in my dreams," Rebecca sighed. She quickly jumped onto her bed like she was a teenager calling across town again. "SO what's new? You meet any hot space dudes in the far reaches? Save any for me?"

"The only hot dude I've met out here is a red dwarf sun. We won't be so far though; all survey ships bigger than a light cruiser are being recalled because...well...you heard about Korvat, right?"

Rebecca nodded. The planet Korvant in the Pi Canis Majoris sector, once the site of initial negotiations to end the old Federation-Klingon cold war, had been attacked by the Klingon Defense Force several days ago to remove all non-Klingons from the region. The Federation had sent a fleet of ships to defense the system, thus sparking a new war between the Klingon Empire and the Federation. Many of Rebecca's instructors had told her that this war had been brewing for years, ever since the Klingons had subjugated the Gorn Hegemony, the Orion Syndicate, and several other of their neighbors while the Federation did nothing.

"We're being sent to the Regulus sector to keep an eye on the Neutral Zone," Vina explained. "Not that I think they'll respect the Neutral Zone much longer. Captain's ordered all security personnel to start wearing body armor and training into anti-Bat'leth tactics."

"That form-fitting stuff? Awful, awful things to wear," Rebecca scoffed. "I got to try on a set as part of a test to see how I could improve it. Too tight in the chest for me though."

Vina giggled girlishly. "You'll have to model it for me when you've figured out how to solve that problem."

"I think our training's being rushed a little to fill hulls," Rebecca said, changing the topic before she blushed. "The class ahead of mine is being graduated a year early."

"You could always sign up for full officer training," Vina remarked. "Then you'd get to go to that nice, warm academy on Earth where everyone gets to pretend the war won't effect Starfleet's science programs."

"Pffft...like I'd ever make officer," Rebecca scoffed. "I've got more realistic goals, like figuring out how to make these academy replicators stop sweetening my coffee with gravy."

The Final Frontiers - Rebecca: All By Myselves

2400, starship Shelby, en route to planet Trill

A hurricane of memories and emotions blew through Rebecca's mind as the Shelby cruised towards the planet Trill. She grappled with the onslaught of thoughts to maintain her identity, struggling to maintain her sense of self even as several lifetimes urged her to integrate into their collective mind. Calm came only from the gentle urging of her friend, piercing through the voices in her head to remember who she was: Rebecca Solveig. Rebecca, not Alaric or Svetlas or Nais! Solveig, not Brandes! A young student with dreams of being a pilot, not a linguistic professor or an opera singer!


She muttered constantly in a dozen languages she simultaneously knew and did not know. Vina constantly tried talking to her, encouraging words about the rest of their academic year. School projects to gripe about, lectures to carefully tune out, a thousand opportunities waiting for her at home.

A chime cut through the tension in the air and a blue-skinned Bolian appeared on a nearby monitor.

"Pardon me, Miss Rebecca, but we've managed to get a line to Trill for you," the Shelby's comm officer reported. "Shall I put you through?"

"Yes, please," Rebecca said, managing to not sound distressed.

The Bolian's image faded and a tan-faced woman appear. Her hair was hasily gathered into a ponytail and a Trill's markings ran up her neck.

"Hi, Mom," Rebecca coughed. "How's it going?"

"I'm doing well, dear, but I really need some things explained to me!" Mrs. Jyla Solveig asked nervously. "Namely, why someone from the Symbiosis Commission got me up in the middle of the night to tell me my daughter was coming home on a Federation starship and why you look so pale."

"I...where do I even begin?" Rebecca moaned, turning to Vina.

"Do you want me to help?" Vina asked. "I've been here the entire time."

"No...no, it should be me," Rebecca sighed. "Let's get the big part out of the way: I've become bonded to a symbiote. I'm a...a host for a symbiote named Brandes."

The look that passed onto Jyla's face was a strange blend of reverence and distress. "My...my little girl's become a host? My girl's a host! Oh my, I don't think we've ever had a host in our family before, and so young! You might be the youngest host ever! Wait until your father hears..."

Rebecca clutched herself as her mother began going on about how great an honor it was to have a symbiote host in their family, trying to ignore the rising memories of when the previous Brandes hosts became joined. The joy that accompanied them threaten to make her retch. She struggled to say something when Vina intervened.

"Mrs. Brandes, please. This is a very hard time for Rebecca," Vina said. "There wasn't anybody around to explain the joining or the procedure to her and she's been having trouble coping."

"Oh my, I'm sorry, dears. I'll make sure the commission has all the required reading for you when you arrive." Jyla wiped a tear from her eye. "And thank you, Vina, for sticking with her right now when I can't."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Solveig. We'll see you soon."

"See you soon, Mom," was all Rebecca could manage.

"I love you, dear. I can't wait to see you!"

Jyla's image disappeared from the monitor and it was all Rebecca could do to lower herself onto the bed gently. They'd managed to get the news out, so that should be the hard part, right?

Year 2402, planet Trill

For the week following her return to Trill, Rebecca - now legally Rebecca Brandes - had been treated like a celebrity in her community. Local news had interviewed her, people wanted to meet her, and members of the Symbiosis Commission had been at her beck and call to explain aspects of being joined to her. Eventually, the Commission experts decided they were no longer needed, leaving only a stack of literature for her to refer to and the novelty of being a young host no longer intrigued people. For better or worse, life had returned to normal.

Except at home. Rebecca was suddenly being held up to higher standards of conduct. Her parents' admonishments frequently included "What would your previous selves do?" The only person who DIDN'T treat her differently through the entire experience was Vina.

Through every subtle change in her personality or whenever she suddenly picked up a new accent, Rebecca could always rely on Vina to keep her grounded. Even now, she was the only person who still called her "Rebecca Solveig" instead of Brandes.

But now her anchor was being withdrawn. Vina, now graduated from high school, was going right to Starfleet Academy.

"Couldn't you put it off a couple of years?" Rebecca asked, watching Vina pack. "I mean, there's still stuff you could do around here, right?"

Vina smiled as she sealed her trunk. "We've had two weeks since I graduated to hang out, Solveig. I don't think there's anything left on our 'To Do' list except get a solid eight hours of sleep."

Rebecca couldn't help but dread Vina's departure. She'd gotten better at suppressing the voices and sorting them out, but she still woke up screaming from time to time as some terrible memory from a previous host's life bubbled up in the form of nightmares, each accompanied by realistic pain and emotion. Her nightmares extended to the real world too; jealous classmates frequently credited her successes to the symbiote even when she achieved things none of the previous hosts had even tried. Her failures were doubly cruel as her detractors remarked that even with a symbiote's help she was a failure. Only Vina's friendship and tinkering with machines in her basement had kept her sane for two years.

And now one of her refuges was leaving for Starfleet.

"You'll still be my friend though, right?"

Vina sighed and gave Rebecca a hug. "Of course I will. I'll write every night and call when I can. Things may change a little, but we'll still be able to complain about school to each other and gossip about guys and everything we do now except share a milkshake."

"I think I can make it then," Rebecca conceded. "But you have to come to MY graduation, okay? I don't want to have to build my own cheering section."

"But nobody else can do the Wave in such perfect sync," Vina teased. "I promise, even if I have to hijack the ship and crash it into the school."

Rebecca snorted. "You'd have to learn which way is up first."

"Easy," Vina scoffed. "It's that way!" She pointed left.

"Close enough," Rebecca said, squeezing her. "Do we still have time for a pizza?"

"Pizza AND a movie. I'll even let you pick."

"I have ten different opinions on a favorite movie and none of the previous hosts have even chimed in yet," Rebecca said daringly.

"Then I pick Star Wars," Vina decided. "I'll let you and the peanut gallery decide which one."

~

The next morning, Rebecca sat watching the departure of a gleaming white shuttlecraft with Starfleet's emblem painted on the side. She squinted as hard as she could, trying to see her best friend through a viewport, but the sun was right in her eyes. A surge of despair and grief threatened to wash her away, but - remembering the promise between friends - she stood her ground and shrugged it off. She believed in the Vina that believed in her and resolved to be strong. First things first, she needed to get to her workshop and just...BUILD something. She didn't know what it would do or how it would work; she could figure that out as she went.

"Maybe a hovering coffee cup. No, did that one last year. A talking food processor? No, that sounds annoying..."

Now that she only had herself and herselves to talk to, Rebecca hardly noticed that she was managing to drown herself out a little bit at a time.

The Final Frontiers: Rebecca

Space...the final frontier...a frontier that, once you reach its limit, never fails to find new ways to grow...

These are the voyages of two captains upon whom Fortune has looked upon. Whether she smiled or frowned would depend on your point of view, but however you look at them, their lives were drastically changed by a single event.

Year 2400, Drozana Station, Donatu Sector


"What a delightful game," Alaric Brandes thought to himself. "I should come here more often. Such an amazing experience."

Unlike the other seven players in this game of Tongo, an exciting game of cards and dice the Trill's symbiote had never played despite hundreds of years traveling the stars, Alaric was having fun despite the massive amounts of latinum he was losing. His trip to Drozana had started as an unfortunate detour when the passenger ship he was riding on experienced engine failure and needed to get repairs before heading back to Trill, but he had made the best of it to experience a side of galactic society he hadn't any memory of.

A couple of players soon dropped from the game, fleeced of every scrap of latinum by a large reptilian man, a Gorn if he wasn't mistaken. The massive lizard man simply hissed a sarcastic sorry-not-sorry as he raked up their money, but one of the aggrieved players seemed to take umbrage and cocked his fist back, smashing his elbow into Alaric's face in the process. A broken nose wasn't a new experience in itself, but as part of a game it convinced the Trill academic to go find other diversions for the rest of the day. Doing his best to stem the flow of blood from his nose, Alaric gathered up his remaining funds and left the table.

Unlike the other players at the table, Alaric had no friends to watch his back. The sentient who had lost his money but hadn't elbowed him - the one who had was likely nursing a few nasty cut's from the Gorn's sword - decided to engage in an ancient pursuit of funds: an old-fashioned mugging. Alaric, a stone's throw away from the safety of the vessel he had flown in on, found himself experiencing a sudden stab wound from behind, draining his strength and forcing him to the deck.

"Such a unique experience," he thought to himself as he fell screaming to the deck.

Before his funds could be removed, the assailant was now the assailed as two of the ship's crew, hearing the guttural cry of pain, came to the rescue, brandishing long-barreled rifles that spat blinding stun bolts into the ne'er-do-well's chest. Cries for a medic were quickly answered and Alaric's pain was soon gone.

~

"Is it just me or does this suck?"

14 year-old Trill student Rebecca Solveig looked up from the magazine she was reading to look at the speaker. Her human best friend and current travel companion, 16 year-old Vina Sealander, was pacing about their cabin, pausing to look out the viewport at Drozana Station, long blonde hair swishing back and forth with each step. The two teens were en route back to Trill after a vacation/school trip to Bajor but found themselves stuck on the ship while it performed repairs.

"I agree. Absolutely," Rebecca absolutely agreed. "You know why they won't let us off though."

"For our own good," Vina said in a passable mimic of the ship's captain. "Don't you want to try anyway?"

"Of course I do!"

"SO LET'S!"

"YEEEEEAH!!!"

The two teens, fueled by youthful invincibility, boldly stepped into the passenger ship's central corridor and walked towards the airlock as if they knew what they were getting into. The airlock irised open, showing them the interior of Drozana's docking area. That was the moment they heard the scream and saw the blood flowing from the victim's back.

"Like I said, that's a comfortable cabin we have," Vina gulped.

"Absolutely, I agree," Rebecca gulped in turn.

Both girls quickly turned about to find something else to partake in as the ship's medic dashed past, first aid kit in hand. A grim feeling overtook Rebecca and she paused, lowering her sunglasses enough to watch the victim - a fellow Trill, she noted - be treated. Two crew members carried the man aboard on a stretcher. Rebecca turned to watch until she felt her sleeved being tugged insistently.

"As long as we're out of our cabin, let's go get a snack," Vina suggested. "I think an ice cream or a slice of cake would be good right about now."

Rebecca lowered her head, green pig tails sagging. "I-I don't think I want any food right now."

~

Hours later, Rebecca lay in their cabin trying to read as Vina wrote a letter to her folks about the trip. She'd gotten the magazine on small flight craft before the trip and had managed to read it enough times to memorize it, but the stories of pilot daring, pictures of new upgrades to the Federation's Peregrine fighter, and technical summaries she barely understood thrilled her too much to find something else. Like the craft she adored, Rebecca's head was in the clouds until a loud rapping on the cabin door stirred her.

"You've reached the suite of  Solveig and Sealander," Rebecca answered through the door. "Solveig speaking."

"Good afternoon, ma'am. Ship's surgeon Fenton Alton," the caller said. "May I have a moment of your time?"

"Sure, if you don't mind talking through the door."

"That'll do, ma'am," the surgeon agreed. "The passenger list says you're a Trill, correct?"

"I've got the markings to prove it, yes. Why do you ask?"

A few beeps made it through the door as if Fenton was checking a PADD. "Another passenger, Dr. Alaric Brandes, was assaulted earlier today and injured badly. A Starfleet vessel was docked at the time and offered to examine him, but they fear his wounds are fatal."

Rebecca's gut chilled. She and Vina had SEEN it happen. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I don't know a lot of burial rites-"

"It's not that that we need your help with," Fenton interrupted. "Dr. Alaric is bonded to a symbiote named Brandes, who the Starfleet doctors have told me is unharmed."

The sound of nervously-shuffled feet made it through the door. "I hate to ask this of you, but you're the only Trill on Drozana; will you accept the Brandes symbiote? We sent word to Trill and they're sending a trained candidate, but we need to perform a transplant within the hour or else the symbiote will die as well."

If Rebecca had been nervous before, she was on the verge of panic now. On Trill, being bonded with a symbiote was something only adults did after undergoing years of training to prepare them for the experience. Only 1-in-1000 Trills could even bond, making it a privilege and an honor many of her race would fight for if given the chance.

It was not something she wanted though.

On the other hand...there was the being's life at stake and it was her obligation to try and preserve it.

"It'd only be temporary, right?" Rebecca asked, trying to keep fear from her voice.

"Absolutely. The permanent host should be here in a couple of days, well before the bond with you becomes permanent," the surgeon said with relief.

"O-okay, I'll do it then," Rebecca reluctantly agreed. "What do I need to do?"

"Come with me to the transporter room and we'll beam over to the Shelby," Fenton said.

"Woah woah woah!" Vina protested, leaping up. "I need to come too! For moral support!"

Rebecca silently thanked her friend for volunteering, a refusal on her lips is Vina's request was turned down.

"Of course," the ship's surgeon agreed. "That's a great idea. We'll bring you back here once the operation is complete, so you won't need to take anything."

Rebecca grabbed her magazine anyway, tucking it into her pocket, trying to ignore the black hole that seemed to have formed in her stomach even as Vina excitedly jabbered about being aboard a real Starfleet vessel.

~

U.S.S. Shelby, Sick Bay

After a hurried explanation of the procedure by the Starfleet doctor, Rebecca had been placed on an operating table. She turned her head to look at the injured academic, Alaric, whose skin had gone pale and whose expression suggested great pain despite the presence of several pain killers. She tried once or twice to say something, anything to the dying man, but she was too afraid of what was going on. A machine hooked to her wrist told the doctors of Rebecca's elevated pulse and adrenaline levels, prompting one of them to give her an injection of some sort that put her to sleep for the duration.

Vivid dreams assailed Rebecca's mind as she slept, images of herself giving speeches before a mixed-species audience, of herself sifting through a pile of dust to find trace amounts of valuable minerals, of herself belting out song lyrics in a language she'd never heard as she drove down a dusty road. They'd begun so suddenly, but she had no idea that it was due to her new passenger, the symbiote Brandes.

An unknown amount of time later, Rebecca could finally open her eyes again. The lights were dimmer than in the operating room, but still she flinched. They looked an awful lot like the study halls on Vulcan, she decided as she sat up. Pain caused her temples to throb, reminding her of that time she was forced to escape a cave-in and got clobbered with a falling chunk of malachite.

Wait a second...she'd never been to Vulcan. She didn't even know what malachite was.

Except she had been. She did know.

Or rather, Brandes had been and did know. The realization that her thoughts weren't entirely HER thoughts filled Rebecca with panic and fear, a maniacal sense of violation that caused her to scream. She'd screamed like that when she'd gotten stabbed on Drozana too. No...no, she hadn't been stabbed! SHE hadn't!

She was soon aware of a pair of strong hands grabbing her shoulders, a worried voice begging her to calm down, and golden locks rubbing against her face. Rebecca soon realized that her best friend Torres...no, Vina. VINA was her friend. Torres had been ages ago. Vina was holding her tightly and trying to calm her.

The sound of Vina's voice was like an anchor to a ship set adrift on the sea, holding it place long enough to get its bearing. Rebecca's thoughts began to quiet until her mind was still.

"V-vina..." was all she could croak at first.

Rebecca was suddenly caught in a squeeze as Vina hugged her tightly, thanking the Prophets and the Organians and the Q that she was alright. Rebecca gently reached up and returned the hug.

"What's going on?" Rebecca managed to ask.

"We're on our way back to Trill," Vina reported, releasing all of Rebecca except her hands. "We're still on the Starfleet ship, but they let me grab our stuff first."

"W-why not the ship we WERE on?"

"They said the Shelby would get us there faster but....they're still too slow," Vina answered, looking away.

"Too..late?"

"That ship that was bringing the permanent host was attacked by pirates on their way here. Something called a Badi Dea intercepted them, shot out their engines, and left them drifting. It's...it's been three days since the operation and even at Warp 9 it'll take them another two days to get us home."

The implication hit Rebecca like a speeding truck. After 93 of being joined, a symbiote and host were bonded permanently. It was a simple fact all Trill knew. And with 72 hours gone and more than 21 before the Shelby would reach another Trill, Rebecca was no longer Rebecca Solveig.

In accordance with Trill tradition of hosts taking on their symbiote's name, she was now Rebecca Brandes.

Even with Vina's support, Rebecca began to wail hopelessly until her strength was depleted and she fell once more into the embrace of sleep.

On-the-Job Training

Rebecca huffed and puffed as she slowly made her way up the cliff face. Even though her armor had a built-in A/C and a water dispenser, she was sweating bullets with each step up she took. For what seemed like the thousandth time that hour, she switched on her radio back to Vina.

"Hey V, remind me why I'm the one climbing up here and you're back on the ship watching," she asked, more to distract her from the burning in her lungs than to actually get information.

"You're far more stealthy in your body armor than I am flying around in my armor," Vina explained. "I could just charge in guns a'blazing, but then the mark would escape and I'd feel bad."

Rebecca snorted. "Okay, fine, that's reasonable. So why am I carrying Shaggy?"

"Deinos can't use ropes and pulleys and all that fun climbing gear, and you need his help."

Rebecca nodded. "Fine, fine. Why am I carrying Flutters?"

Although unable to hear the conversation over the radio, the Noibat perched on Rebecca's shoulder chirped happily.

"I don't know," Vina answered. "Have you tried asking her to fly herself up?"

Rebecca grunted, pushing herself now that the top of the cliff was in sight. "No. She listens to you and ignores me while making nests out of my shirts."

The next few minutes passed in silence; Rebecca continued to put one hand in front of the other, not breaking her concentration to tell the flying Pokemon to fly. Soon enough, she'd be at the top and she could catch her breath, have a drink, and then set up her weapons to provide some covering fire when Vina actually launched her attack on the bandit camp the two Sealanders had been hired to bust.

Within the camp, bandits milled about as they sorted the goods from their latest haul. Marauding men and women casually exchanged insults, jokes, and anecdotes as they went about their business. Rebecca could see some basic detection equipment - probably good enough to detect tanks, planes, or robot armors - but the camp lacked more than a few bored sentries for keeping out spies.

"Alright, Shag, you sit there while Mama Rebecca sets up her toys."

Rebecca patted the Deino on his head and began setting up several new toys the Sealanders had been given: an automated mortar, a light machine gun, and some kind of tranquilizer-laden missile or something. She wasn't entirely sure what was in it, but she went about setting it up as Vina had repeatedly instructed and drilled her on.

"Good job," Rebecca's wife had said in praise. "We'll make a passable infantryman out of you yet."

Once the last weapon was set up, Rebecca sent a double-click over her radio: the signal for Vina to move in. With the call made, Rebecca immediately activated the weapons. The mortar scattered explosive shells about and the missile shot into a tent and scattered a paralyzing white mist pouring out while Rebecca laid down a blanket of suppressive fire, cutting down any bandit too brave or stupid to find cover. It was a rather easy job: hold down the trigger, move the barrel around, and ignore the occasional bullet casing bouncing off her helmet.

Once the return fire came, it got slightly more serious. Long range pistol shots weren't going to do much to her, but once the bandits got out a grenade launcher, Rebecca was almost convinced to bug out.

Then Vina arrived in 15 feet of heavy metal, firepower, and thrusters; her beloved heirloom power armor Siebzehn. A big blue hulk, Siebzehn barreled through the bandit defenders like it hadn't even noticed they were there. The only sign that Vina HAD noticed anyone in her way was a volley of missiles fired behind her as she burst into the tent and burst out a moment later with an unconscious humanoid in her arms.

"I've got the mark," Vina reported. "Call for the ship and let's go get paid."

Rebecca nodded, summoning their new spacecraft. She could never remember the current name, the ship's serial number, off the top of her head. She really should get around to naming it. That would have to wait though as a bandit had managed to get close to her position.

Rebecca stared down the barrel of a pistol, wondering if a shot at this range would be able to pierce the lenses on her helmet. A purely academic question though, as the bandit soon found his shooting arm clamped between a pair of vicious, burning jaws as Shaggy took offense to someone pointing a gun at his master. Flutters fluttered about, clawing at the bandit's back as the ship finally showed up.

"Alright, pets, it's time to go home," Rebecca ordered, picking up the gear hastily.

Vina and Rebecca in "Hog Hunting Pt 1"

“Madams Vina and Rebecca"

Aboard the tramp freighter Ivory Port, Vina Sealander and her partner-in-crime/wife Rebecca looked at the massive crate with interest. Aside from the note written by Gluttony, there was not a scrap of paper to be found on the container's exterior. Even the courier who delivered the thing didn't even have an invoice or shipping manifest to give to them. Vina briefly thought about getting into a suit of power armor as the couple's pet Deino, Shaggy, pawed at its side.

"I still think we should throw it into space and just go to 264," she decided.

"Oh, come on! Where's the fun in that?" Rebecca protested, grabbing a crow bar. "I want to see what inside."

"Even though the box clearly scans as containing explosive?" Vina asked.

"BECAUSE it clearly scans as containing explosives!" Rebecca countered. "The note even says it has guns in it."

Before Vina could protest any futher, Rebecca had already pried the top off of the box and dove in. The various "ooh" and "aah" sounds attracted the notice of Flutters, the Sealanders' other pet Pokemon, a Noibat, who looked into the box and almost fell off as Rebecca popped out hefting a large weapon.

"Check it out! A light machine gun, a bundle of RPGs, and even a big ass bazooka!"

Rebecca dove back into the crate, examining the contents even as Flutters hopped in. The Noibat squealed happily as he flew back out wearing a pair of goggles.

"Come back! The goggles...they do something!" Rebecca shouted, finally pulling herself out.

Vina casually continued to watch her partner wallow in a pile of unarmed explosives and armor-piercing ammunition. By this time, Shaggy had scampered off to play in the galley or the escape pod or the reactor core...Vina was never sure where the little Pokemon got to.

"I hope you realize that you just volunteered to inventory those bullets you're so happily scattering," she said at last.

That put an end to Rebecca's shenanigans at least. Probably temporarily, but oh well.

"Alright, alright, I'll count the bullets later," Rebecca conceded. "Does this mean we're going to Sector 246?"

Vina nodded. "It's half of Gluttony's gift after all. So thoughtful of him even though we barely know him."

Vina then spun around on her heel, heading off to find Shaggy as a steady "1...2...3..." echoed behind her.