A Day in Brocadia starring Dr. Dia DeMonde - Part 1

In ages past, there existed a great civilization capable of building great things, producing great people, and creating great ideas. And yet this civilization managed to destroy itself, its neighbors, and arguably 99% of its entire world. Pockets of humanity managed to survive, but they were isolated. Civilization had died, culture stagnated, and even the people themselves were changed. Into this came a strange race of spacefaring beings known in myth and legend only as the Earthmasters. They saw a world that had once thrived and introduced their servants to restore it to serve as a colony. The Earthmasters began to thrive on this world as well, building a network of fantastic devices that could transport a person from one end to the other in an instant.

Sadly, they, too, were not long for the world as their ancient Enemy, whom history does not even remember except within near-extinct Earthmaster records, followed them to this new colony world and continued fighting their ancient war. The Earthmasters and their enemies fought vicious battle after vicious battle until all present on the world had either died or fled to their parent empires. The Earthmasters' servants remained behind though, picking up the pieces of a broken world until the pockets of humanity, which now included strange children like Elves, Orcs, and Goblins, began to spread forth once more to reclaim what was lost.

Civilization was slowly rebuilt. New nations like Tentula and Brocaidia rose on the contient of Demova. Dwarves and Halflings and other races built nations of their own as man's desire to explore the unknown returned. Sadly, growth and prosperity brought with it another old, bad habit: war. Elves and humans fought for control of Demova, resulting in the near-extinction of the Elves except for a small enclave of pure-bloods granted sanctuary by the Queen of Tentula and their part-Elf descendents, the Middlings. Peace thrived until the Church of Azell realized that powerful magics such as the ones used against the Elves could be turned upon them or other human nations, beginning a war across Demova to bring all magic under the oversight of the Church, causing the near-destruction of the nation of Estella.

Once the Church was satisfied with its position, peace reigned across Demova. Publicly at least, for a shadow war was being waged between the descendents of the Enemy and a group of warriors working on behalf of the rulers of the Demovan nations. This shadow war lasted for years until an accident involved an Earthmaster site caused the "deaths" of the Enemy leader and the warriors. While their bodies were destroyed, scattered by malfunction Earthmaster artifacts, their spirits gained the ability to reach out to their descendents and grant them fantastic powers. With this new ability, the Enemy continued his plans against Humanity while the warriors, now known as the Forever Knights, sought him out and battled him when possible.

The year is 1568 of the Azell Calendar. It is an Age of Enlightenment and Exploration as new discoveries as made every day and strange lands are waiting to be discovered by Demovan explorers. The Forever Knights are active once more though, traveling across the world to reactivate the surviving dormant Earthmaster sites to give them an edge in their fight against the Enemy, whose plans are coming together after centuries.

Even heroes must rest though. After a harrowing adventure in an undersea city with multiple near-death experiences, Doctor Dia DeMonde, Middling surgeon of - in her own eyes at least - great renown, looked forward to spending some time in a normal, ordinary city. Her companions all had their own preparations to make, supplies to purchase, needs to attend to. That was fine; they had their things, Dia had hers, even if it was in a Brocadian city instead of one in her homeland of Estella. She was even tempted - nay, hoping - to perform a normal medical procedure on someone instead of having to sew her own abdomen shut or dissect some horrible fish creature to get access to the poison sacs in its face. Still alive, of course. She did feel somewhat out of place though, dressed in rather common-looking garments despite being a guest of the Brocadian palace while the natives all strutted about like peacocks in their fashions. Dia shook her head and went looking for the nearest apothecary to restock her surgery kit.

<DiDe, can we go to the candy store?>

Dia looked at her shoulder. Beneath her cloak, her shoulder bulged from a small lump perched there, hidden from sight so as not to scare the common folk. Its words went right into her mind, an easy way to circumvent the need for awkward conversations.

"Not yet, Nurse Teacups," she answered with a smile. "Behave and you can have TWO pieces."

The bulge squirmed until the head of a tiny dragon's head peeked out from beneath the cloak.

<Even taffy?>

Dia smiled at Izzy Teacups' enthusiasm, admiring once again the little creature, a once-dead fairy dragon she had restored using magic and science. She petted the little head and gently pushed it back under the cloak.

"Yes, even taffy," she agreed. "Now stay put. Peeking is NOT behaving."

<But I'm boooooooored.>

The surgeon shrugged with her unladen shoulder as she entered the apothecary she had been searching for. That was the end of her good experience with the shop as the proprietor took one look at her single pointed ear and sneered.

"Show me your coin before you waste my time asking for things, Middling," the clerk demanded.

With an annoyed sigh, Dia pulled out two things: a gold coin and a small amulet, her symbol of membership in Estella's hallowed medical guild. She waved both in front of the clerk's face while tapping her foot impatiently.

"I am Doktor Dia DeMonde, graduate of the Freiburg Universitat, dummkop, here on special assignment to attend King Louis-Dieudonné de Montaigne XIV," Dia said in introduction. "You may fetch me vhat I need or I shall return to the palace, explain to his majest vhat you hafe not done, and somevone vith a large polearm shall come to do my shopping, only he vill pay you vith a large fine for wasting the court's time. Good deal, ya?"

The clerk gulped as Dia produced a small ring bearing the royal seal, proof enough that she at least worked in the palace, even if in a far different role than the one she'd stated.

"Ah, yes, of course, Doktor," the clerk gulped, suddenly quick to respond to Dia's requests.

"And hafe a nice day," Dia said, smiling sweetly as she returned to town.

Outside, she found herself staring at a young boy, a fellow Middling judging by his ears and slight frame. She also found herself unable to get past without shoving him aside. The two stared at each other awkwardly until Izzy poked her head out of the cloak.

<This isn't the candy store, DiDe.>

"I know, Nurse."

<Then why are we just sitting here?>

"Zhat is a good qvestion," Dia agreed, turning to the boy. "Can I help you, knabe?"

The child stared at her for another moment, tilting his head. "Are you a healer?"

"A healer?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, one of those people who makes sick people better."

"Ah. Zhe proper term is doktor, but yes, I am a...'healer,'" Dia answered. "You don't look sick though."

"It's my papa. He came home sick, but he keeps going to work and getting worse. So I said to myself 'Pete, go ask a healer to make him better.' so I started coming here. All the healers look at me though and just want to see my money first," the boy explained. "But I'm just a kid; I don't have any money."

Dia's heart skipped a beat. Plain old ordinary medical emergency, helping someone in need, AND sticking it to the pureblood humans who probably did most of the medicine in this town? It sure sounded like a good deal anyway. "I see. And I take it you vould like me to help him, ya?"

The boy, Pete, nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Yeah! Can you?"

Izzy glared from her perch, but Dia spoke before the dragon could get mad. "Certainly. Ve need to make one stop, zhen ve can see vhat's wrong with your Papa."

A quick trip the sweets shop later and Dia, Izzy, and Pete were on their way to the boy's house on the edge of town, not quite a slum but likely only because of an effort to gentrify the neighborhood. Nobody was on the street begging, but this part of town lacked the brightly-colored garments of the districts near the palace. Dia felt she had gone from being underdressed to overdressed as she walked through the streets, slipping back into an old habit of mentally diagnosing people's problems as she passed them. It'd been so easy to slip back into routine though that she also missed the sight of a bulky arm reaching out to her from behind a post.

For a five-foot nothing young woman, Dia wasn't a slouch in the strength department. She swatted the encroaching grasp aside and reached towards her belt, wondering what sort of weapon she should be reaching for as two brutish men stepped in front of her.

"Lookit here, Fenton. She's a lively one."

"Sure is. Spare a few pennies for a couple o' poor men?"

Dia snorted. Compared to giant reptiles, troglodytes, fish men, and the undead, a couple of muggers were nothing. She reached for her sword before remembering it was back at the palace. Same with her spear. At least she still had a kni-oh wait. That, too, was at the palace. Well, she still had a nice, weighty walking stick she could introduce their shins too. Or maybe she could use a spell. Or...she could be interrupted.

"What ho, ruffians! Back away from the lady!"

Dia, Pete, and the two muggers looked up as a blue blur fell from above, sweeping back a bright blue cape as it drew a rapier. In fact, it was a man dressed entirely in a blue uniform, right down to a blue facemask.

"I am the Blue Revenger and I am the righter of wrongs, thwarter of evils, defender of the weak, and...well...you get the gist of the," the blue figure said. "Leave this woman and her babe alone and I shall allow you to walk off unharmed."

Desperate the muggers might have been, but they were quite aware that neither of them were armed, counting on their strength and size to intimidate victims. Now someone else had the upper hand.

"Well? Poke poke!" the Blue Revenger said, waving his weapon about. "What say you?"

The reply was for one mugger to pick up a barrel, hefting it over his head in an impressive feat of strength to throw at the would-be hero. The revenger leapt to the side and the barrel bounced off the ground with a hollow thunk. With the thugs' attention occupied, Dia plucked her hefty walking stick from her belt and chanted a quick word of command, activating a strange ring on her finger. A gift of sorts from a Vedic noble, the ring soon turned her invisible, allowing her to creep up and club the barrel-thrower from behind, knocking him out cold with a single precisely-aimed hit.

Meanwhile, the Blue Avenger had begun hopping about, peppering the other thug with lightning-swift pokes from his rapier, drawing blood but inflicting no lethal wounds. Dia decided for all his eccentricities, he was at least quite skilled with a weapon.

"You swing your lists like a bovine," the revenger taunted, side-stepping a blow.

"Shut up and get hit!" the thug whinged, holding a spot on his face where he'd been slashed.

"Your odor is the only dangerous part about you!" the hero answered back, then slamming the pommel of the rapier upon the thug's head.

As the large sack of meat fell to the ground, the Blue Revenger removed his hat with a flourish and bowed gracefully.

"Worry not, my lady. You are safe now."

Dia sighed. Perhaps eccentric was too mild a word.

What might have been if Parsee hadn't been jealous...

This post is a non-canon What If story:

What apocalypses in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Suite 16

Parsee was busy watching some educational program on TV when out of nowhere, out of the blue, seemingly at random, she felt...big. Not like a Las Vegas big shot or someone really tall, just....heavy. Aside from forcing herself to eat an extra portion the last time she'd taken food to Cian's manor though, she didn't eat much. She couldn't help but feel as if she'd put on some weight though; maybe she was getting sick? With a little difficulty, she rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom to see if she was pale. As she flicked on a light, she recoiled from the sight in the mirror.

The face in the mirror wasn't hers. Well, with a little closer examination, it DID look like her face except...her hair was black, she had some extra padding on her face, and her eyes were....BLUE? To add the oddness, her ears weren't even pointed.

It wasn't just her head that had changes though; she was a few inches taller upon closer inspection and her was...well, she didn't need to be delicate with herself...fat. Wider hips, pudgy thighs, actual breasts, and...no...that wasn't a fat stomach, she looked pregnant.

Then...then came the whispers. Children's voices, men and women she felt she ought to know, a home she lived in and yet had never once been to. Memories pouring in like a flood of someone else's life. More than Parsee could handle. She shrieked, calling out for Cian and tried to fly to his manor.

Instead of leaving the ground and soaring into the heavens though, she fell flat on her face.

"Okay, okay, okay, this is all a bad dream," Parsee told herself. "I'll just talk myself down and...and...where am I?!"

Parsee summoned all of her magic and will, but her mirror image refused to manifest. Frustration and fear mounting, she tried to blow a hole in the wall just to see if she could.

No danmaku formed.

The memories though....they kept coming.

A shorter, thinner, younger Parsee walking down a rustic road to find a young man kissing another woman. HER man kissing another woman. For a moment, she felt like running and crying, to try and figure out where she'd gone wrong in pleasing the man, but in an instant she felt rage swell up and make her confront her lover and his new mistress. He begged for another chance, but she cut him off, removed him from her life and found her happiness in a productive job and a new lover, with whom she eventually built a family.

It was in this moment Parsee realized she was looking at her own life. Or rather, what her life would have been if she'd reacted to finding her love's indiscretion's with rage instead of jealousy. She'd never have been a hashihime, never have been trapped on Satori's bridge. She instead would've found joy and love and family.

It was a keen pain she felt stab into her heart as the changes went away and Parsee was her normal self again. She frantically rubbed her stomach, her face, her hair, wishing that all of those changes would come back, wishing that she could in fact go back in time and be the black-haired family woman instead of the Green-eyed Monster.

"Why have you done this?" Parsee asked the mysterious force that had shown her what could have been. "Why do you torment me so?"

But the world refused to listen.

~

Back in canon ZFRP, Parsee was reading a book when I Am did his thing. She thought she felt something off, but nothing appeared different...although she could've sworn she was reading a cook book and not Garfield. Oh, wait, she was. She didn't know why she thought she was holding a Garfield book for a moment.

The Finer Things in Life

Las Vegas, World Creature Wars Monday Fitro

"The world outside of Gensokyo sure is strange," Parsee Mizuhashi thought to herself as she walked through the crowded arena.

In the months since accepting Gentleman Draco's invitation to be his apprentice, Parsee had gotten to experience all sorts of human things that she'd only heard about. Television, fast food, bungee jumping...there were so many things and she'd gotten to try each one of them! She'd learned so much too, such as negotiation and how to negotiate with strength when you had none. Now she found herself in a noisy arena full of screaming fans, each one screaming his or her lungs out in anticipation of seeing their favorite creature, such as Rodaniel Bryan or The Arocknid or some other strange-sounding thing, beat another weird creature to a pulp. Draco had sent her the ticket and told her to come up to a particular private box before matches began.

"Suite 13b," the ticket had written on it. Parsee knocked twice and the door opened.


"...and then I put up a sign saying 'No Active Volcanoes,'"

Parsee found her mentor speaking to a group of well-dressed humanoids: a dark-feathered bird man, a  human in dark, heavy armor, and a robot of some sort. Kobold servants, shorter than the lizardman by far, stood nearby with drinks and snacks if summoned. Parsee coughed lightly, causing one of Draco's eyes to turn towards her.

"Miss Mizuhashi, please come in," Draco said congenially. "I was just speaking to some business associates of mine. Baron Kobsworthington the Third, Zett the Black Knight, Nu Alex, meet my new apprentice, Parsee Mizuhashi. She's gracefully offered to help me gain a foothold in this city."

The crow and lizard bowed politely.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mizuhashi," Nu Alex said, extending a robotic hand. "As a former student of Mr. Draco's, you must be quite formidable to have gained his attention."

"Oh, th-thank you," Parsee replied, unused to compliments. "I'm just a gatekeeper. I'm not THAT special."

"She's quite modest, as you can see," Draco chuckled. "I'll cure her of that soon enough."

Even Parsee laughed nervously at that as she took a seat on the suite's balcony. The fans waved signs and screamed their hearts out as the first match began: a whirlwind full of ogres named the Shreknado battling a pelican that pulled assault weapons from its beak named the Scooper Trooper. Bullets and rockets were flying everywhere, deflected into the crowd by Shreknado's whirlwind.

"It's not the same as good ol' Zoofights, but Mr. Rex does know how to put on a good show," Draco grudgingly admitted, politely applauding as Scooper Trooper was being peeled like an onion in a hurricane.

"Um...pardon my asking, Mr. Draco..."

"Ask away, my dear. I didn't invite you here to show you off like a trophy."

"Yes, that's what I was getting to: why DID you invite me here?" Parsee asked.

"An excellent question. I wanted to show you something. This event, this arena, this show...this is our enemy in this city," Draco answered, motioning to the WCW crowd. "Every time we want to succeed, he wants us to fail. I have no doubt Rex knows that I have come here; with the Zoofights Corporation's intention of opening a casino resort, he must know that Kobbers will flock here like crows. No offense, Baron."

"None taken," the Tengu muttered, watching the next match begin.

"But you told me that we need competition," Parsee protested. "Why is he our enemy?"

"A competitor and an enemy are similar: they both want the same thing we want," Draco began explaining. "A competitor will puff up his plumage like a peacock, put up a fine display and improve his product in order to attract attention. An enemy will also put on a display to attract attention as well, but he seeks to misdirect OUR attention while planning to destroy us. Thus, we must destroy our enemies even as we seek to impress and outwit our competitors."

Parsee tried to take it all in, to look at it from a variety of perspectives. She'd likely have a "EUREKA" moment later and put the thought aside for now. "Then why are we here at his event, giving him money to enjoy his product?"

"Like I said, misdirection. He'll know I'm here, I'll put on a good show of being awed by a return to exciting creature fights, and I may even pay him a visit to congratulate him on reviving the ailing WCW," Draco continued with a toothy smirk. "He won't see you though; compared to people like Utsuho Reiuji and Tenshi Hinanawi, you're unknown. You can begin an operation without him suspecting ties to me or the Kobbers."

Parsee's eyes flashed green and jealousy boiled within her. Seeing this, Draco frowned. "Control your temper, apprentice. Business contacts will say things like that to control you, to manipulate you to their advantage. You have that power too though."

"Do YOU say such things to me to manipulate me?"

Draco grinned once more. "Of course. How else are you going to learn?"

For a moment, Parsee gaped with surprise. Fortunately for her, a new match was beginning between a shape-shifting crustacean named Blobster and a bloodthirsty bird named Swanton Slaughter.

The Final Frontiers - Ocard: It's not you, it's...wait, yes, it is you

Year 2405, Unidentified system in the Gorn Hegemony

"Will this prattle never end?" Ocard thought to himself, idly tapping on his command chair.

Although his vessel was the only ship of Cardassian make at the meeting, Ocard's Badi Dea was just one of many independent vessels, most of which were Gorn vessels that had fled during the Klingon Empire's invasion, that had been assembled for what had been billed as "a major undertaking in the history of the Gorn," which he'd translated as "opportunity to make lots of money while others took bigger risks" and was slowly coming to realize to have meant "I hate Klingons and I want you to go shoot them for free."


Ocard had been the majority of his life outside of the modern Gorn Hegemony. He'd been born in a system the Gorn traditionally claimed but didn't own at the time, his career as a slave/raider had occurred mainly in Romulan space, and he'd never actually seen the "glorious jewel" of the racial homeworld, Gornar. His current location was as close as he'd gotten to Gornar and he was slowly finding less and less to be interested in.

He muted his own transmitter. "This is a waste of time. There's no profit in fighting a revolution that's doomed before it's even begun."

Chief Engineer Mulea snorted and looked up from monitoring the other vessels. "Nobody joins a revolution to make money. Freedom fighters are expected to be free, dumb fighters."

Ocard chortled. The Orion woman's quips were as precisely-tuned as impulse engines she gushed over. For the latest time, the Gorn pirate considered himself lucky to have her on his crew. He continued listening to the speaker, some Gorn general who'd been sensible enough to warp his Balaur dreadnought away from Gorn space the moment the KDF approached the border in force, go on and on about how it was the duty of each captain and his crew to help overthrow the obviously-useless royal family and expel the Klingons from the Hegemony while they were distracted with their war with the Federation. A stirring speech, Ocard supposed based on how many other captains were cheering for their host.

"Helmsman, turn us about and set course for Alhena," Ocard ordered. "We need to top off our tanks and I hear they just got a fresh load of Deuterium in."

The helmsman, a fellow Gorn, hesitated before standing up. "Sir, this meeting is important for our race! We need to be a part of this!"

Ocard wondered if he should kill the helmsman for insubordination, but stood before his claws scratched his chair. He calmly stepped forward, placed his hands on the shorter Gorn's shoulders, and looked him in the eye.

"This resistance is doomed to fail, sailor," Ocard stated, looking him in the eye. "You've got a cowardly general trying to rally other cowards, desperate fools, and beings like us who have never even seen Gornar into fighting a bunch of war-mongering savages when even the legitimate ruler has accepted Klingon oversight. There's no profit for us, so I say we get back to what will actually benefit us."

The helmsman, struggling not to be intimidated, took a step back. "Then I respectfully resign my post and wish to be beamed to the surface."

Ocard nodded. Crew members jumped ship frequently when they felt they were rich enough or because they were spies who needed to report to their masters. "Then go talk to the purser, get your take, and get off my ship. In fact..."

Ocard stood up and straight and switched on the shipwide conn. "Attention, crewmembers. I understand that this event has significant personal interest for many of you. I, however, see no reason to become involved in this Gorn Revolution. Any crew members - not just Gorn - who wishes to be a part of this resistance movement is free to collect his due and find passage aboard another vessel. You all have an hour to make your arrangement and get out."

Over the course of the hour, power consumption indicated that 35 crew members, mostly Gorns, had jumped ship. Ocard wished them well, but did not expect most of them to see 2406. Maybe not even the second half of 2405.

"I'm rather surprised none of you jumped ship," Ocard remarked to his bridge crew as the Badi Dea left the meeting.

Talash, Rlim, and Gthath had immediately come to the bridge following Ocard's declaration, reporting on the ones most likely to leave. Who was gone didn't matter though; only who stayed behind.

"Eh...we feel about the same as you do, sir," Gthath said with a shrug. "Gornar never wanted the best for us, so why should we care about it?"

"You'd never make it without us anyway," Rlim added. "I doubt you can even drive a hovercar, let alone a starship."

"And I'm still waiting to get a gold-plated falchion," Talash gave as his reason to stay.

"Good enough for me." Ocard turned to his Orion chief engineer. "Anything you'd like to add?"

"Only that I'm glad you didn't break one of my consoles with poor S'thar's face," Mulea answered. "Or I'd be taking the repairs out of your Risa fund."

Ocard snorted at the thought of actually taking a vacation to the resort world deep in Federation space.

"Alright, alright, union break's over," Ocard growled melodramatically. "Now get us to Alhena's fuel pumps or you're all getting out to push."

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 - Ocard: If I have to shoot twice...

Year 2402, Traelus System

It was during intense negotiations with his quarries that Ocard preferred to fire the Badi Dea's primary weapon personally. He relished the minute he took to decide upon a target every time he was forced to fire a disabling shot. Normally, blasting a ship's engines - the starship equivalent to kneecapping a sentient - was his preferred method of disabling a vessel, but once in a while whim or wrath suggested he blast the bridge to instantly disable it. He typically refrained from being wrathful though; he'd been careful to build up a reputation for granting mercy to cooperative crews and for not completely emptying a vessel's cargo holds unless provoked.

This time, however, he held off. The freighter in his sights scanned as hauling explosives to a mining colony as well as medicines, foodstuffs, and machines. Normally not a group of items he'd want to steal, but he'd been hired by a Ferengi - and paid 15% in advance - to interdict this particular ship. Insurance fraud, neutering a rival operation, or just wanting discount supplies...there could have been any number of reasons for this attack that didn't matter to Ocard. All he cared about was getting the full amount for getting the machines.

"Happy Trails, this is Gentleman Ocard of the independent vessel Badi Dea. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance and demand your unconditional surrender," he broadcast, idly tapping around the trigger.

The Toffli-class freighter began to heave to port, away from the Galor-class cruiser menacing it. The captain obviously hoped to make for open space, but Ocard's trigger finger had an itch to scratch, sending a powerful disruptor beam into the freighter's engines.

"Happy Trails, I commend your daring and unwillingness to surrender. I will forgive you making me have to shoot at you once," Ocard transmitted. "If I have to shoot twice though...well...the results would NOT be gentlemanly. Perhaps you'd like to reconsider your position?"

The freighter, already slowed immensely by the loss of its primary engines, came to a complete stop. Ocard quietly signaled Gthath to prepare their boarding shuttles for launch and waited for the freighter captain to reply.

"This is Captain Pisko of the Happy Trails," a gruff, human voice stated. "If we cooperate, will you guarantee the safety of my crew?"

"Captain Pisko, I will guarantee your safety as long as you guarantee mine," Ocard answered. "Give my slicers access to your computer systems and load up the cargo they tell you into our shuttles, then you shall be left alive to limp to the nearest starbase or shipyard.

The cruiser turned to show its side to the freighter. Immediately, four banks of disruptors locked onto the freighter.

"I would, however, consider any ungentlemanly conduct on the part of your crew a personal offense, however, and you don't want me to feel offended," Ocard hissed. "Understood?"

"C-completely, sir," Captain Pisko gulped. "We'll ready our airlocks."

"Excellent! My representatives shall be over shortly," Ocard said before cutting the channel. "Gthath, launch the shuttles. Put on a show of slicing into their computers, but don't take too much time. We're on a schedule."

"Aye, sir," the Gorn engineer answered. "You sure you don't want Talash to set a timer on those explosives?"

"Only if they refuse to cooperate. Even then, I might say to put an auto-pilot on the ship and let it finish its run without its crew," Ocard confirmed. "Shear the sheep and they'll keep lining up for us. Slaughter the sheep and they'll warn the shepherd."

"As you wish. Shuttles are prepped and launching."

A minute later, a trio of trooper-laden shuttles crossed the distance between the two ships. The captain's chair creaked as Ocard leaned back. It had only been two years since he'd become the master of his own fate and it felt splendid.