Aeryn Zal

Posted on 17 Apr 2020 @ 12:53am by Commander Rhyan

2,518 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Empty Creche
Location: Starfleet Medical Headquarters, Earth
Timeline: ED3 1100

Commander Rhyan returned to Starfleet Medical Headquarters earlier than he had intended; the injury he sustained during his conversation with T’Kesh required urgent attention. Despite his best efforts, the makeshift bandage wrapped around his right hand was not stemming the flow of emerald-green blood from where his nails had cut into his palm. Every time he thought the blood flow was settled, he would move his hand, feel a sharp pain, and the bleeding would start again. How he would explain the circumstances surrounding the injury to Lucy Inverness, he did not know.

Following the President’s death, the number of security officers stationed along the corridors of Starfleet Medical had decreased significantly. Unlike when he and Aeryn had first arrived in the building, Rhyan could now freely move between departments; his journey from the accommodation block to the intensive care facility took mere minutes. He savoured the fresh air and sunshine as he walked from the accommodation block to the treatment facility, reflecting on the stillness in the air as he tried to find his own inner calm.

“Good morning, commander,” a voice boomed as Rhyan entered the building for the first time that day. He looked around until he saw the hulking presence of Lieutenant Johnston approaching from elsewhere in the foyer. The security officer appeared exhausted; he had unlikely slept since the President passed away the previous morning.

“Morning, lieutenant,” Rhyan responded, warmly. He drew both hands behind his back and wrapped the makeshift bandage tighter around the wound to conceal his injury as much as he could from Johnston. Thankfully, the lieutenant appeared too exhausted to notice Rhyan’s fumbling. “How are you keeping?” he asked, making sure to check in with the man before they parted ways.

Johnston looked down at him with bleary eyes. “I have been awake all night preparing my report for Starfleet Security. When news of the President’s death becomes public, they will surely want to know all the details.”

Rhyan had not even considered that he would likely need to submit his own report to Starfleet, detailing his own involvement in the President’s death. Given his current mood, administrative tasks were not the top of his list of priorities. Besides, any report he submitted would likely be used by Starfleet to reprimand him; he kept the knowledge of Zal’s illness to himself, not even confiding in Admiral Ashcart before he departed the Redemption for Earth. Add to that the loss of yet another support craft, and Rhyan would be lucky to avoid a court martial when all of this was over.

Realising that his mind was wandering, the Vulcan turned his attention back to the man standing in front of him. “I am sure it will be of a high standard,” he said, not quite sure how to respond to Johnston’s comment.

From the expression on his face, Rhyan suspected that Johnston did not know how to act either. After a few false starts, where the lieutenant appeared unsure whether to say anything more or not, he said: “You are a very lucky man, Commander Rhyan.”

Rhyan was taken aback slightly by the comment. Nothing about his current situation made him feel like luck was on his side. If anything, he felt extremely unlucky these days. “How do you mean?” he asked, verbalising his confusion.

“I just mean,” Johnston started, realising his poor choice in words, “that you are lucky to still have Zal by your side when the dust finally settles on the President’s death. Aeryn Zal will be a fine addition to the Redemption’s crew.”

Aeryn Zal. With everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, Rhyan had yet to consider that Aeryn was no longer Aeryn Tigan. But in reality, he would be returning to the Redemption – assuming that he continued to be assigned to the Redemption after all this – with Lieutenant Zal. He always knew that Aeryn would retain all of Elesa’s memories following joining, but what she was gaining was so much more; she was going to be Zal. Rhyan’s realisation, for that brief moment anyway, appeared to take away some of the sting of Elesa’s death.

Realising what he would be gaining only made Rhyan acutely aware of what Lieutenant Johnston would be losing; he had been Zal’s personal security officer since the day and hour she took up office as the President. Rhyan knew that they had been friends beneath all the formality of their roles. It probably helped that Elesa Zal, when she had been a Starfleet Officer, served as a security officer before progressing to command and the admiralty. Just as Elesa had been fond of Johnston, Johnston had appeared equally as fond of her. He suspected that, like Rhyan, the lieutenant also felt deep guilt that he had let her down; her death was as much Johnston’s fault as it had been Rhyan’s.

The Vulcan nodded back in the direction of the lieutenant. “She already was,” he said, recognising that Aeryn was already an outstanding officer even before she was joined to Zal. “But,” he added, “I recognise what the Redemption will be gaining when we return. The President already felt like an honorary member of the crew; therefore, Aeryn Zal will be welcomed fondly when she returns.”

Rhyan smiled, fleetingly; the first time he had done so in days.

“Take care of her for me,” Johnston said, great sadness in his eyes.

The security officer patted Rhyan on the arm, catching him off guard. The Vulcan inadvertently loosened his grip on the makeshift bandage, and it fell to the floor behind him. He could feel a trickle of blood running along his palm, down the index finger and onto the floor.

“Are you hurt, commander,” Johnston asked, pointing to the bloodied rag lying on top of the pale grey flagstones underfoot. He motioned to pick up the bandage, but Rhyan stopped him.

“It’s nothing, lieutenant,” Rhyan said, formally. He crouched down and picked up the bandage and wrapped it once more around his throbbing hand. By now there was green staining on the floor beside him, as well as down the front of his uniform jacket. What a mess he must have looked in front of Johnston.

“It looks a little bit more than nothing.”

Rhyan tried not to let embarrassment get the better of him. He inhaled sharply, walked around Johnston so that he was now closer to the lift up to the intensive care ward, and started to say his farewell. “I really should get this looked at, though,” he said, taking a few awkward steps backwards. “But if there is anything, anything at all, I can do for you, please let me know.”

“Thank you, commander,” Johnston answered, gratefully. “I will bear that in mind. Look after yourself, sir.” Feeling awkward, in no part thanks to Rhyan, Johnston bowed his head towards the Vulcan and walked towards the foyer entrance. Within seconds he had exited the building.

Rhyan, on the other hand, immediately called for a lift so that he could get his hand inspected by Lucy. It was only moments before the lift car deposited Rhyan on to the intensive care floor where he knew Aeryn was continuing to be cared for. A short walk took him to the main ward area, where was pleased to see Aeryn now sitting up on a biobed, eating. Her colour had vastly improved since he had seen her last; a likely positive sign that her body was successfully fighting off the virus that had infected her during joining.

Aeryn was the first to see Rhyan and waved towards him as she sipped from a mug of murky-looking liquid. Lucy was also on the ward but took longer to register the commander’s entrance; Rhyan suspected this was because she had seen him but chose to ignore his arrival. ‘Some day you will forgive me,’ Rhyan thought to himself as he watched the doctor reading from a medical padd.

“Commander,” Aeryn called out, setting the mug down and continuing to wave him over. Rhyan smiled for the second time that morning and approached the Trill woman. She too wore a broad smile on her face; at least, until she saw Rhyan’s hand the bloody rag that he clutched onto tightly.

“What happened to you, Rhyan?” She continued to use his name in the familiar; an ongoing trait since joining, it seemed.

“It’s a long story,” he answered, not really wanting to discuss the issue with her. Rhyan had felt embarrassed enough in front of Lieutenant Johnston, so did not want to repeat the experience with one of his subordinate officers. Especially not Aeryn.

Unfortunately, the lieutenant had other ideas: “I’m not going to be going anywhere for the next twenty-four hours, at least, according to Doctor Inverness. So, it appears that I have the time.” She started smiling again.

The Vulcan tried to walk away from her – his hand needed mending, after all – but Aeryn’s face told him that he needed to answer her question first. He gave further thought to just ignoring her but felt that after all he had put her through, she deserved not to be ignored. He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. “My mother paid me a visit this morning,” he started.

“And she did that to you?” Aeryn exclaimed.

“No,” he answered, quickly, before the lieutenant got the wrong idea. As much as he disliked his mother, Rhyan did not Aeryn to get the wrong impression of her. “She was my response from Starfleet Intelligence; Admiral Ashcart will meet with me tomorrow at 1200 hours.”

Aeryn’s eyes dropped to Rhyan’s hand and then back up to his face. She didn’t need to say anything more; she was telling him to hurry up with the explanation concerning his hand. Rhyan wondered in that moment, was Zal beginning to exert more of an influence on Aeryn; she certainly seemed more confident than the last time he spoke with her.

He reluctantly continued. “As is usually the case when T’Kesh and I meet, we found ourselves arguing. We have been like this ever since I was a child; she would try to make me do something her way, and I would rebel and do it my way. The only thing we ever agreed on was our commitment to Starfleet; she followed a career in intelligence, and I followed one in the sciences. But, even now, she infuriates me with her threats against my career in command.”

As he recalled the conversation with his mother, Rhyan found himself tensing his grip once again. The movement aggravated the wound, causing a further jolt of pain and increased bleeding. Rhyan could see understanding developing on Aeryn’s face as he tightened the bandage around his hand to compensate. He felt further annoyance that he had let T’Kesh get to him a second time, even without being in the room with him.

“You wouldn’t be the first person to have a complicated relationship with a parent,” Aeryn said supportively. She motioned as though she were going to place her hand on his but stopped short of doing so. “I think I have been in both pairs of shoes,” she added, with a confused look on her face.

“You think?” Rhyan asked, reflexively.

“Xolani had a big family,” she responded, the confused expression on her face deepening. It appeared to Rhyan that some of Zal’s memories were beginning to surface, albeit in a haphazard fashion. On reflection, his problems with T’Kesh seemed minor in comparison to what Aeryn was about to face: four lifetimes of memories, muddled together without the preparation to make sense of them.

“Who was Xolani?” he questioned, hoping that he could prompt Aeryn to recall more about the host she spoke of.

Aeryn looked like she was thinking hard about the question. “She was Zal’s first host, I think. Quite the academic; she worked for the Symbiosis Commission most of her adult life. But… Oh…” She abruptly stopped.

“But what?” Rhyan probed further, keen to see how much Aeryn could recall.

Aeryn scrunched her face. The expression gave Rhyan the image of Aeryn trying on a new dress for the first time, then discovering it looked awful on her. “I… I think I used to be a bit of a bitch,” she answered, a little disgusted with herself.

Rhyan stifled a laugh, not wanting to put the young woman off exploring her new memories. “Was Xolani not well-liked?” he asked when he was certain he would not laugh through the words. Thankfully he was oblivious to Aeryn, as she worked hard to remember more about her first host.

“She was a matriarch, for sure. I…” she stuttered, “I think that is where Elesa got her stately composure from.”

“She definitely had buckets of that,” Rhyan said, remembering how professional and calm the President had always seemed in his presence. He never once thought that the trait might not have been native to Elesa, but rather a facet of the Zal symbiont. The more he thought about symbiosis, the more his head began to hurt as he tried to fathom what the experience must be like. Perhaps, if he had been capable of doing so himself, joining could be likened to a ‘mind-meld’, where two minds blended into one. It was a skill he had never trained to perform; nor did he want to.

“Rhyan,” Aeryn said, panic in her voice and a startled expression on her face. “What if I turn out to be a bitch like Xolani? Or a nut-job, like Azan?”

“Who is Azan?” Rhyan instinctively asked, realising that he already knew the answer. He looked into Aeryn’s face and grew concerned that the young woman was focusing too much on the negative features of her previous hosts. Of course, everyone had their faults, but people also had their positive qualities; be it empathy, intelligence, confidence… the list could go on.

“Aeryn,” Rhyan said, mirroring her last sentence. He did what she could not and placed his uninjured hand on her arm. He looked her in the eye and spoke assertively: “You are Aeryn Zal, and you can be whoever you want to be. But, in a self-serving capacity, I would prefer it if you continued to be my science officer.”

The features on Aaryn’s face softened again. Rhyan couldn’t be sure the confusion was gone, but the lieutenant had gained some of her prior composure. “I am sorry, commander. It is a lot to deal with,” she said, calmly. Aeryn looked down at Rhyan’s blood-soaked palm and appeared to remember why he had returned to the medical ward. “You need to get that seen to, sir.”

“I do,” Rhyan replied, smiling, eager to seek out Lucy and have his hand finally mended.

OFF: Killing some time until my multiple JPs are finished and I can jump to ED4.

 

RSS Feed