Head Full Of Noise
by Karen

I had made a promise to myself that Ezri Tigan would never be one of the Joined.

Let other Trills think of it as an honor, as a lifetime achievement, something to be coveted and sought after. I am Ezri Tigan. Maybe this reluctance to be paired up for a lifetime with a sentient slug-like life form has something to do with the fact that I grew up far away from the Trill home world, maybe there's something lacking in me; the fact remains I never wanted this.

And for a good portion of my lifetime I was did well to make sure I kept that early promise to myself. My mother and I had more than several arguments, but one thing I she never truly understood my ambivalence, but loved me enough to trust my judgement.


I led my life, did well in schooling and later on during my Starfleet training. By any lights, I was an individual and I was proud of it. In fact I was even well on may to a decent and respected career in Starfleet and I was making a name for myself in the field of ship's counselor.


As the ninth and perhaps last Dax host, this came about more by accident and design.

The Starfleet ship assigned to transport the Dax symbiont back to Trill was damaged, the decision had to been made to transport and implant Dax into the only available Trill; it had to be me. I do not remember if I was ever asked my opinion on the matter, and perhaps some of the anger I feel can be chocked up to that.

My predecessor was dying, and now Ezri Dax has very big proverbial shoes to fill. Jadizia Dax is gone and here I am in the perhaps the last place I ever expected to be assigned, Deep Space Nine, on the edge of the wormhole that leads to the Gamma Quadrant, in orbit above the planet Bajor.

I cannot begin to describe just how awkward it was for me to stand there and be inspected by those Jadzia Dax had known and loved, and served alongside. I felt like a stranger and at same time it felt like I was coming home. Captain Benjamin Sisko understood the best of all, because he had known and befriended two previous hosts, Curzon and Jadzia. Until that instant, like a mosquito frozen in amber, I never fully understood or appreciated exactly why the Trill government and equally the Symbiosis Commission governing and responsible for the selection of hosts for the symboites had for centuries. Let's be realistic, Ezri, been so paranoid and reluctant to let other alien species learn of the symboitic relationships of the slugs and the Trill population.

It was designed not just as politics, but to prevent awkward moments like this one.

So much of our lives is the result of accumulated memories, and shared experiences, of interaction with the people that come in and out of our lives. These were people that I knew, correction that Jadzia knew, and I was a stranger with the name Dax tacked on.


Speaking of which, Commander Worf had the hardest time with it because he was still mourning Jadzia's death. I could probably find out it happened, which I could probably experience it from the host's memories, but I don't think I want to, its like a getting a rewind look into a very personal and private part of someone else's life. As a trained counselor I could never countenance that.

One would think that having access to the stored memories of eight previous lifetimes and personalities would be a blessing instead of a curse. A part of me welcomes that in theory, but I was never prepared it, and sometimes my head feels like its too small to process all of the background white noise.


It's loud in here, alone with my thoughts, and if I had to give the noise a color, it would be white, blindingly white. I am adjusting; I am getting help and a little of the training from Trill that will help me through the transition process. A little on the belated side but it is better than having nothing at all.

So, I conclude my personal log, signing of as Ezri Dax.

It starting to feel more natural all the time eventually I'll be able to bring that background white noise inside my head to a tolerable level. In the meantime, I will learn to cope. and well, as Chief O'Brien would no doubt say at this moment if he were here, 'Bully for you, girl.' "


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