She had never made much time for a social life. Sure there was an odd fling here or there, most of which she later came to regret, but none of her acquaintances could be called friends. In fact it was more likely that sooner or later after meeting Star they had become enemies.
Four months in the center seat and not only did she still not feel respected, she felt somewhat intimidated by her own crew. Perhaps even by all the new responsibilities which lay now solely on her shoulders. She had of course always aspired it but throughout her career she had never been responsible to many others than her own self.
She quickly shook off the doubts that were once more creeping into her head. Tazla was a fighter if nothing else, a survivor, she had proven that on more than one occasion even if very few were purview to that knowledge. She would rise to the occasion, she decided. She always had.
“You have one new massage,” the computer announced shortly after she had arrived.
The Trill crossed the lounge to get to the bathroom unit to freshen up. “Computer, identify the source of the incoming message,” she said casually as she headed for the washroom.
“Unable to comply. The source of the message cannot be verified.”
Star froze in the door frame. “Why not?”
“The requested information is not available.”
She slowly turned to face the dark computer screen which stood on her desk as if it would leap at her at any second.
The computer didn’t know who was sending her a message because whoever it was had made damn sure that there was no way to trace the call. Star knew of only one person who would go to such protocol defying lengths. Unfortunately for her it was the one person she had hoped she would never see again.
She slowly approached her desk, weary of the prospects of her worst fears coming to fruition. She sat down and activated the screen.
And there he was. Smiling at her with that irritating grin which would have been infectious to anyone who didn’t know any better. His head was completely devoid of any hair and he practically radiated charisma. As if he was going to be your best friend, as if you could trust him with your life, as if he would treat you with the greatest possible amount of respect.
Star knew only all too well that none of that was the case. But who would ever suspect a Deltan of vicious deception? It was the perfect disguise.
“Taz,” he said with the apparent glee of a father addressing his long lost daughter. He didn’t look it but Star knew that he was old enough to be her father. “You let your hair grow long. I like it.”
For just about a second Star felt seriously flattered. It was that powerful Deltan sexuality of his. And then, the following second, when the inexplicable urge to have sex with this man had passed, she felt so sick she wanted to heave.
“What do you want, Altee?” she said with not the slightest hint of warmth in her tone.
He looked hurt. He was a good showman after all. “Come now, Tazzy, that is not how to greet an old friend. Somebody who has given you everything you ever wanted. How about you try: “’It’s good to see you again, Altee, how have you been’?”
“I worked for this.”
He shrugged. “I suppose you did. And I’m grateful for everything you have done for me. That’s why you’re sitting in that chair now. Because, I am so damn grateful. And proud.”
“I’m done doing your dirty work,” she shot back. “I quit, remember? I have new responsibilities now.”
Altee smiled but his dark, looming eyes betrayed him. “I’m a great admirer of intergalactic animal life, did you know that?” He continued before the befuddled Star could respond. “Of course most animals have very little in the means of intelligence. They solely rely on their instincts to survive and yet many behaviorisms provide the most fascinating insights into the thought processes of even the most sophisticated sentient species.”
“What the seven hells are you-”
“Take the Cardassian redbird for example,” he continued as if Star hadn’t spoken at all. “A magnificent predatory bird with a thick bright red plumage and a long, razor sharp beak. Not to different to those great hawks that dominate the skies of Trill. Are you by any chance familiar with it?”
“I’m afraid my Exo-Ornithology has gotten a bit rusty,” she said, letting the sarcasm seep with each word.
Altee didn’t pay it any attention. “That’s too bad. You see this bird displays some very fascinating tendencies. Did you know that it is constantly nurtured by older and stronger animals of its species? In fact they become reliant on them so much that if they attempt to venture out on their own they ... well, they’ll perish eventually. See their bodies have begun to depend on a chemical substance that only the older birds can provide. Some of the chicks will try to beat this dependence and sometimes they manage to limp along for awhile unaided. Maybe on some level they believe that they have achieved independence. But in the end they have no choice but to return to those who can provide them with what they require to survive. It’s a fascinating creature, wouldn’t you agree?”
Star had absolutely nothing to say to that.
“There is something I require you to do and I trust that you will take care of this matter for me, won’t you?”
She simply stared at him. She wanted to do a lot more. Yell at him to leave her the hell alone, turn her back on him or maybe even break out in tears at the futility of it all.
“Taz?”
In the end she simply nodded. But she hated herself for doing it.
It had been a long time since she had managed to sleep more than five hours a night. But this night she couldn’t even manage those. Neither her mind nor her body would allow her the rest she so desperately sought. She tossed and turned through the first hour and then simply remained on her back, staring at the dark ceiling of her quarters for another one. She was soaked with sweat but that was hardly new to her.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
Star swiftly got out of her bed and with two quick strides she had moved in front of a dresser unit, opened the top drawer and retrieved a hypo spray which she kept hidden underneath her underwear.
Her eyes remained fixed on the unremarkable medical instrument for a while. “You can fight this, Taz,” she mumbled to herself like she had done countless times before. “Just don’t do it.”
She looked over her shoulder to spot the computer screen through which Altee had spoken to her a few hours earlier as if he was still there, watching her every move. It wasn’t an entirely far-fetched scenario. The screen was blank.
She focused on the hypo again and began to feel a growing sickness in the pit of her stomach. It always did that almost like clockwork.
Tazla knew exactly what it was. Or more appropriately who. It was Wexri’s way to communicate to her how far off the beaten path she had drifted. How morally despicable her actions had become. Wexri had been a person of unwavering moral and ethical standards who had committed her life to the pursuit of justice and equality. Wexri had died some one hundred fifty years ago but her essence and her experiences lived on in the Star symbiont within Tazla.
She knew that all her previous hosts would have rebelled at the very idea of what she was doing to herself. Wexri, Doren, Lerus, Arisia ... maybe not Lerus. He had been a man of dubious moral standards himself. In fact most of his life was a mystery even to her. Sometimes she wondered if his dark side she knew so little about had led her to this.
She dismissed the thought. Tazla Star was not one to shift away responsibility for her own actions.
The Trill took a deep breath placed the hypo back in the drawer and walked away.
She managed only one step before her self-control crumbled like a house of cards caught in the middle of an ion storm. With fluid motions she re-opened the drawer, reached for the injector and pressed it against her neck. The expected relief never came.
Filled with shock and terror she checked the hypo. It was depleted.
“No, no, no!” She hurled the offending device across the room, only by sheer dumb luck managing to strike a vase and crashing it to the floor where it smashed into pieces.
She couldn’t have cared less. Her mind was fully preoccupied with other matters. She had to get her hands on a new supply and quickly. Any consideration of forgoing an injection now entirely washed away. She had completely exhausted her reserves and foolishly made no efforts to replenish it at any time, always under the assumption that she didn’t really need any more. After all she could quit whenever she wanted to. But now more so than ever she understood that she couldn’t. Her mind and body were screaming for it. And this urge would not go away by ignoring the voices. The contrary was true. The longer she held out the more she would crave it until it became unbearable.
There was only one place she could go to find more, she quickly realized. Within seconds she had thrown on her uniform, straightened her hair as best as she could and was out of the door.