Sometimes failure is a matter of perspective. Sometimes...it happens despite our best efforts.
This is a tale of when Ezri Dax faced such a question. Did she truly fail...or did the universe fail to allow her to do more? You make the call.
This story grew out of Ezri's reflections during a scene from my story "A Rendezvous With Destiny"--probably my quntissential Ezri story, which you can read here.
It also refers to "Of Power And Passion", which takes place shortly before this one. You don't need to have read "Power", but if you want to, it's here.
Finally, the story also referrs to events in the novels--specifically, the Destiny trilogy, Paths Of Disharmony, and a brief reference to events of Mission Gamma: This Grey Spirit.
All right...this comes in two "parts". Part 1 takes place in the aftermath of Destiny. Part 2 takes place after certain events of Paths. You don't need to have read that novel--but let me warn that it contans spoilers for one of the events taking place there.
Word count: 3,585.
Now, without further ado:
Ezri Dax stood on the ashes of Andor, looking at the devastation around her.
The thick scent of smoke filled her. She couldn’t help but note how different it was from the mines of New Sidney, owned by her family. The smoke of the mines spoke of industry—civilization—life.
Here…it spoke of death. Death, at the hands of the Borg—the greatest murderers the galaxy had ever known.
She stood there in silence, as a feeling inside her came to the forefront, not for the first time. When the Borg had been defeated, once and for all—when the Caeliar had simply “absorbed” them—something inside her had felt—disappointed. She and Captain Hernandez had planned it, of course, but…somehow…it seemed to her as if justice had been denied to the galaxy, that day. Instead of punishing the Borg, and the force behind it, it seemed as if they had just been bought back home, no questions asked—as if nothing had happened deserving punishment.
As if the billions claimed in the invasion hadn’t died.
What would you have preferred, Ezri? The Caeliar aren’t godlike—not really. It’s not as if you could have convinced them to repair all the damage the Borg had done—what’s done is done.
So what would you have wanted? Revenge?
Ezri felt her fists clench beside her. She couldn’t help but note that such was a side of her that the young counselor of Deep Space Nine would have struggled to escape—feelings of revenge—disgust at the idea of forgiveness, and redemption.
Half a decade ago…redemption was a part of her line of work. It was her job to help people recover from things, to re-discover their courage, or their will…or their conscience.
Still…
“Dax—you studied forensic psychology at the Academy…?”
“It…wasn’t my favorite subject.”
Ezri had always hated forensic psychology—hated studying criminal minds, studying the dark, twisted drives and rationalizations that turned sentient beings into monsters. Not that she wasn’t good at it—her instructors had always praised her as something of a genius in the field of psychology, a child prodigy. It was just that she had always hated…darkness, the darkness of the soul.
People had often referred to Counselor Ezri Dax as “innocent”—rarely to her face, of course, though she often overheard them. But it was more than that. She just found it so hard to accept that the universe would allow—would encourage—evil to prosper…and get away with it all. So whenever she confronted it—she always felt a rage, a righteous fury boil up inside her.
Suddenly, memories of a recent incident hit her. It was barely a week since Joran had “appeared” to her. The sixth host of Dax had taunted her, baited her—tried to get her to admit that that same darkness she despised so much was inside her, as well—and that, rather than suppress it, she had actually long since given into it, which had led directly to her break-up with—
“Captain Dax?”
Ezri mentally thanked whoever it was that had broken her chain of thoughts. She turned to see who it was—and felt a small smile come to her face. “Shar!”
Lieutenant Thirishar ch'Thane returned the smile, and extended his hand. “Captain…it’s good to see you again.”
Ezri took his hand, taking a good look at him. The young Andorian chan was older now—but there was no mistaking him…especially considering the way he insisted on wearing his hair. Ezri still thought it looked like a mop.
“So,” she asked, letting go of his hand, “How have you been?”
Shar sighed. “Other than…all this?”
Ezri nodded, sadly.
“Well…I’ve been all right. I mean—most of the past few years have been spent helping my people with the under-population. I—” he gave a bitter smirk, “I guess this hasn’t helped things any, has it?”
Ezri’s gaze fell. “Shar, I…I’m sorry this happened. I…I wish—”
“Captain, it’ll be fine. We’ll get out of this—if I know my people.”
Ezri looked up at him…and turned, seeing all the destruction around her.
“I hope so,” she whispered.
She turned back to Shar, who gave her a smile of friendship, and understanding.
“So,” he said. “I take it you’re heading the relief effort?”
Ezri nodded. “For now—I mean, we’re just here to start things up—and then we’re off to other worlds in the same boat, to do the same thing. Someone else will take the reins when we leave.”
“Well, I’m just glad you’re here, Captain. We could use the help.”
Ezri nodded—but the chirp of her combadge kept her from responding.
She tapped the device, “Dax here.”
The voice of Dr. Simon Tarses came. “Captain—we’re in the town square—what’s left of it, anyway. You know, I don’t want to impose, but—where are you?”
Ezri smiled. “It’s all right, Simon. I’m heading over there now.”
“Understood.”
"Dax out." She turned to Shar. “Looks like we’d better get to work.”
Shar nodded. “So…you’re lagging behind your crew, a bit?”
“Well, Simon was going to set up—I figure no one would need me for a while.”
“Oh…I don’t know about that, Captain.”
Ezri frowned. “What do you mean?”
Shar’s smile returned—bigger, this time. “What I mean is that a lot of people here are really looking forward to meeting you.”
“Meeting…me?”
He shrugged. “What, you didn’t know?”
“Know…”
Shar chuckled. “Captain Dax… you’re one of the Big Three—Picard, Riker, Dax—who saved the Federation from certain death—and you’re telling me you don’t know what everyone thinks about that?”
Ezri stared at him, her eyes widened. “You’re telling me—”
“Captain—let’s go.”
Ezri followed the Andorian, a little miffed. “Hold on—you’re not telling me to expect hero-worship, are you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you to expect.”
Ezri’s lip tightened, saying nothing as they walked on.
Shar turned to her. “Are you all right, Captain?”
For a moment, Ezri didn’t answer. Finally, she let out a sigh. “No…I don’t think I am.”
Shar stopped. “Is something wrong, because—”
“No, it’s just—nothing. Let’s go.”
Ezri resumed walking, an apparently bewildered Shar in tow.
“Captain,” he said, “Look, if what I said—”
“It wasn’t what you said, Shar. I’m just not feeling that good.”
“Not feeling—”
“Shar, how far is it to the square?”
“It’s just ahead.”
“Good.”
Sure enough, there was Simon and his medical team, distributing the hundreds of crates to the civilians. Ezri knew the survivors of the assault would have to resettle—that the supplies were intended to be sufficient to give Andor a boost to start over. There would soon be other teams, at key regions on the planet surface.
She could make out Simon being surrounded by people—Andorians in clothing that was damaged and scorched in the attack. Many of them were severely injured—and she saw more than a few people walking only with the support of others.
But despite the suffering…there was no chaos, no panic. The process of distribution was calm and methodical, and the people all did as Simon and his team instructed.
But then one Andorian saw her—and called out, with all the excitement in the universe, “There she is—Ezri Dax!”
Ezri closed her eyes and stiffened.
She heard the cheer—the crying out of elated admiration.
“Shar,” she muttered, “You were asking what was wrong…?”
Shar chuckled. “So that’s it? You hate hero-worship?”
Ezri turned to him. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, it depends. In this case, I would say nothing’s too good for the woman who saved the Federation!”
“Erika Hernandez saved the Federation—not me.”
“Well, she’s not with us, is she? Besides, you definitely helped, to say the least. You’re as much responsible as she was.”
Ezri rolled her eyes, and walked down to all that remained of the massive town square—or the Andorian counterpart—of Laibok, the industrial center of Andor until the Borg had annihilated the city.
She somehow managed to bear it as she was surrounded by them all, hearing them all pour out their thanks to her through their tears. She managed a smile as she acknowledged them, accepting their gratitude. But she didn’t say anything…she couldn’t.
Somehow, looking around her, at the wreckage of what had once been a thriving world—one of the founding worlds of the Federation—somehow, she found herself unable to join in the elation. It seemed so unfair…unfair to the memories of those billions who hadn’t survived—those who had perished.
Finally, she was able to walk up to Simon. The doctor smirked despite himself. “Skip, you’re a celebrity.”
“Oh, knock it off.”
“Well it could have been worse—it could’ve been me.”
Ezri tilted her head, giving him a tired look.
Simon shrugged, turning to a nearby crate, taking out a hypo—probably containing a vaccine. “If it had been me,” he muttered, “I wouldn’t have been able to get as much done as I have.”
Ezri sighed. “I guess not. So, how do we look?”
“As good as can be. We should have all the supplies down and distributed within two days.”
“That’s good…so, how soon can we finish?”
Simon looked to her. “You’re in a hurry?”
“I just want to get to the next one as soon as possible.”
Simon shrugged again. “Well…I guess another day, to make sure everything’s in order.”
“Good to know. Can I help with anything?”
Simon stared at her for a moment, and then nodded. “You can help me distribute this vaccine.”
Ezri nodded, and took a hypo of her own from the crate.
It was fairly routine—although Ezri did find it a little irritating that everyone she vaccinated was staring at her in astonishment and bewilderment—as if they were all unable to comprehend that she would stoop down to “their level” like this.
I’m every bit as flesh and blood as they are—and they’re treating me like this larger-than-life super-heroine. I just did the best I could—I did my duty as a Starfleet officer, and was just in the right place in the right time. I don’t want a pedestal—why are they so desperate to give me one?
It was like this for much of the day. The planet’s leaders—the ones still alive—were to meet with her in a few hours. In the meantime…she was content to help any way she could.
After a while, she looked up to see a child—either a zhen or a shen, because it was clearly a “she”.
Ezri smiled warmly. “Hi!”
The child returned the smile—halfheartedly. “Hello, Miss Ezri.”
Ezri felt her feelings of tension vanish. She liked children, as a rule, and knew how to make them comfortable. “Okay. Sit down—right here.”
The child nodded, and sat beside her.
“So,” Ezri asked, “What’s your name?”
“Shathrissia sh’Laan.”
Ezri heard a slight gasp. She turned to discover it was Shar. For a moment she wondered why—but then, a memory struck. “Shathrissia” had been the name of Shar’s former love—the zhen with whom he had formed a special bond—who had committed suicide when Shar had unwittingly broken her heart….
It was a coincidence. But what a coincidence!
Shar gathered himself, and turned away to tend to a civilian of his own.
Ezri turned back to Shathrissia, intending to force her smile’s return…but before she could, she noticed something else about the child.
“Shathrissia,” she asked, though she feared she knew the answer, “Where’s your family?”
Shathrissia stiffened a bit…but that was her only reaction, as she gave the answer.
“My family’s gone.”
Ezri blinked. “They…your parents?”
“My family.”
Ezri felt her blood run cold. She thought she heard something drop behind her, but that was the farthest thing from her mind.
She swallowed. “Don’t you…don’t you have anyone to—to take care of you?”
“No. They’re all gone.”
Ezri was unable to speak. Unconsciously…she reached out, clasping both the child’s arms, staring at her. How…how can she say that so easily?
The counselor in Ezri knew the answer all too well. It was such a shock for all the victims of the Borg attack—a shock for those survivors who had watched their loved ones perish before them. And for a child—who had almost certainly never seen death—for a child to lose all who were close to her, all who had loved her, all who had cared for her…
“I…” Ezri’s lip quivered, and she found herself unable to say any more.
Shathrissia met her gaze, and finally said, in a near whisper, “Don’t cry, Miss Ezri.”
Ezri let her go, blinking back the tears welling up in her eyes. Without saying another word, she took the child’s wrist, pressing the hypo against it.
She watched the child go, disappearing into the crowd.
She heard Shar speak up, standing behind her. “…Captain?”
Ezri looked up at him, and swallowed. She stood up, and asked him, “Did you hear what she said?”
Shar nodded solemnly.
“She—her whole family—”
“I heard, Captain.”
Ezri turned away, to see if she could make out the child in the crowd. She saw a lot of children like her—children who were alone, who clearly had no one to look after them.
Ezri shook her head, and whispered the thought which had been simmering in the back of her mind since she’d beamed down here…a thought now cemented in words.
“We were too late.”
“Captain?”
Ezri turned to Shar, feeling the tears return—tears of frustration and anger.
“Shar,” she whispered, “You were wondering why I found this…fame of mine so hard to handle?”
Shar’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. He knew full well what she was going to say.
“Shar—if I’m so great…noble…so heroic—why did that happen, hmm? Why couldn’t I have stopped those…those things, before all this happened? Why couldn’t I have saved them, Shar? Why couldn’t I have saved—?”
Her voice cut off, as she felt her fists clench again. She made no attempt to fight the tears this time.
Shar shook his head. His own voice began to break. “Captain…I doubt there was any more you could have done.”
Ezri stiffened, and closed her eyes, forcing down her anger at herself. No…no there wasn’t. Why not? Why wasn’t there more I could have done?
She sighed, and brought herself to whisper, “I don’t deserve any of it.”
“Any…praise?”
Ezri opened her eyes, meeting his gaze, and shook her head. “I don’t deserve that.”
“Captain—you stopped them from killing a lot more.”
“Well,” Ezri muttered, “A lot of good that did her.”
“She’s alive, Ezri. She has a chance—”
“She needs a family, Shar—a family she doesn’t have, because I was too late.”
Shar shook his head softly, saying nothing.
Ezri picked up the hypo, and began to walk off.
Shar’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Ezri.”
Ezri stopped short at his use of her first name.
Shar’s voice was firm and certain. “These people all owe you their lives. Everyone in the Federation owes you their lives. You couldn’t save them all—no one could.”
Ezri squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth, unable to turn to meet his gaze.
Her mind was filled with a memory—setting a course for Earth to help fight against the Borg, wasting precious time as the Aventine set course—until she was dissuaded by Picard, persuaded to go back, and figure out a different, better plan.
Had she not wasted those hours as she did…could she and Hernandez have done what they did sooner?
Was all of this her fault? Could…could she have—?
She heard Shar again, softly repeating, “No one could.”
Ezri sighed…and walked off, going back to work.
It was back to routine—except that she found the looks of admiration even harder to bear. She found herself praying that she wouldn’t snap. These people didn’t know—they wouldn’t deserve that kind of treatment.
She was now treating a young adult chan, applying the hypo to his wrist.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Well, there you go. Thank you.”
He looked her in the eye, with an expression of complete respect. “No, Captain Dax—thank you. For everything.”
Ezri’s lip tightened, but she nodded, and turned to the next patient.
This is a tale of when Ezri Dax faced such a question. Did she truly fail...or did the universe fail to allow her to do more? You make the call.
This story grew out of Ezri's reflections during a scene from my story "A Rendezvous With Destiny"--probably my quntissential Ezri story, which you can read here.
It also refers to "Of Power And Passion", which takes place shortly before this one. You don't need to have read "Power", but if you want to, it's here.
Finally, the story also referrs to events in the novels--specifically, the Destiny trilogy, Paths Of Disharmony, and a brief reference to events of Mission Gamma: This Grey Spirit.
All right...this comes in two "parts". Part 1 takes place in the aftermath of Destiny. Part 2 takes place after certain events of Paths. You don't need to have read that novel--but let me warn that it contans spoilers for one of the events taking place there.
Word count: 3,585.
Now, without further ado:
Star Trek
Aventine
Aventine
"Too Little...Too Late"
Ezri Dax stood on the ashes of Andor, looking at the devastation around her.
The thick scent of smoke filled her. She couldn’t help but note how different it was from the mines of New Sidney, owned by her family. The smoke of the mines spoke of industry—civilization—life.
Here…it spoke of death. Death, at the hands of the Borg—the greatest murderers the galaxy had ever known.
She stood there in silence, as a feeling inside her came to the forefront, not for the first time. When the Borg had been defeated, once and for all—when the Caeliar had simply “absorbed” them—something inside her had felt—disappointed. She and Captain Hernandez had planned it, of course, but…somehow…it seemed to her as if justice had been denied to the galaxy, that day. Instead of punishing the Borg, and the force behind it, it seemed as if they had just been bought back home, no questions asked—as if nothing had happened deserving punishment.
As if the billions claimed in the invasion hadn’t died.
What would you have preferred, Ezri? The Caeliar aren’t godlike—not really. It’s not as if you could have convinced them to repair all the damage the Borg had done—what’s done is done.
So what would you have wanted? Revenge?
Ezri felt her fists clench beside her. She couldn’t help but note that such was a side of her that the young counselor of Deep Space Nine would have struggled to escape—feelings of revenge—disgust at the idea of forgiveness, and redemption.
Half a decade ago…redemption was a part of her line of work. It was her job to help people recover from things, to re-discover their courage, or their will…or their conscience.
Still…
“Dax—you studied forensic psychology at the Academy…?”
“It…wasn’t my favorite subject.”
Ezri had always hated forensic psychology—hated studying criminal minds, studying the dark, twisted drives and rationalizations that turned sentient beings into monsters. Not that she wasn’t good at it—her instructors had always praised her as something of a genius in the field of psychology, a child prodigy. It was just that she had always hated…darkness, the darkness of the soul.
People had often referred to Counselor Ezri Dax as “innocent”—rarely to her face, of course, though she often overheard them. But it was more than that. She just found it so hard to accept that the universe would allow—would encourage—evil to prosper…and get away with it all. So whenever she confronted it—she always felt a rage, a righteous fury boil up inside her.
Suddenly, memories of a recent incident hit her. It was barely a week since Joran had “appeared” to her. The sixth host of Dax had taunted her, baited her—tried to get her to admit that that same darkness she despised so much was inside her, as well—and that, rather than suppress it, she had actually long since given into it, which had led directly to her break-up with—
“Captain Dax?”
Ezri mentally thanked whoever it was that had broken her chain of thoughts. She turned to see who it was—and felt a small smile come to her face. “Shar!”
Lieutenant Thirishar ch'Thane returned the smile, and extended his hand. “Captain…it’s good to see you again.”
Ezri took his hand, taking a good look at him. The young Andorian chan was older now—but there was no mistaking him…especially considering the way he insisted on wearing his hair. Ezri still thought it looked like a mop.
“So,” she asked, letting go of his hand, “How have you been?”
Shar sighed. “Other than…all this?”
Ezri nodded, sadly.
“Well…I’ve been all right. I mean—most of the past few years have been spent helping my people with the under-population. I—” he gave a bitter smirk, “I guess this hasn’t helped things any, has it?”
Ezri’s gaze fell. “Shar, I…I’m sorry this happened. I…I wish—”
“Captain, it’ll be fine. We’ll get out of this—if I know my people.”
Ezri looked up at him…and turned, seeing all the destruction around her.
“I hope so,” she whispered.
She turned back to Shar, who gave her a smile of friendship, and understanding.
“So,” he said. “I take it you’re heading the relief effort?”
Ezri nodded. “For now—I mean, we’re just here to start things up—and then we’re off to other worlds in the same boat, to do the same thing. Someone else will take the reins when we leave.”
“Well, I’m just glad you’re here, Captain. We could use the help.”
Ezri nodded—but the chirp of her combadge kept her from responding.
She tapped the device, “Dax here.”
The voice of Dr. Simon Tarses came. “Captain—we’re in the town square—what’s left of it, anyway. You know, I don’t want to impose, but—where are you?”
Ezri smiled. “It’s all right, Simon. I’m heading over there now.”
“Understood.”
"Dax out." She turned to Shar. “Looks like we’d better get to work.”
Shar nodded. “So…you’re lagging behind your crew, a bit?”
“Well, Simon was going to set up—I figure no one would need me for a while.”
“Oh…I don’t know about that, Captain.”
Ezri frowned. “What do you mean?”
Shar’s smile returned—bigger, this time. “What I mean is that a lot of people here are really looking forward to meeting you.”
“Meeting…me?”
He shrugged. “What, you didn’t know?”
“Know…”
Shar chuckled. “Captain Dax… you’re one of the Big Three—Picard, Riker, Dax—who saved the Federation from certain death—and you’re telling me you don’t know what everyone thinks about that?”
Ezri stared at him, her eyes widened. “You’re telling me—”
“Captain—let’s go.”
Ezri followed the Andorian, a little miffed. “Hold on—you’re not telling me to expect hero-worship, are you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you to expect.”
Ezri’s lip tightened, saying nothing as they walked on.
Shar turned to her. “Are you all right, Captain?”
For a moment, Ezri didn’t answer. Finally, she let out a sigh. “No…I don’t think I am.”
Shar stopped. “Is something wrong, because—”
“No, it’s just—nothing. Let’s go.”
Ezri resumed walking, an apparently bewildered Shar in tow.
“Captain,” he said, “Look, if what I said—”
“It wasn’t what you said, Shar. I’m just not feeling that good.”
“Not feeling—”
“Shar, how far is it to the square?”
“It’s just ahead.”
“Good.”
Sure enough, there was Simon and his medical team, distributing the hundreds of crates to the civilians. Ezri knew the survivors of the assault would have to resettle—that the supplies were intended to be sufficient to give Andor a boost to start over. There would soon be other teams, at key regions on the planet surface.
She could make out Simon being surrounded by people—Andorians in clothing that was damaged and scorched in the attack. Many of them were severely injured—and she saw more than a few people walking only with the support of others.
But despite the suffering…there was no chaos, no panic. The process of distribution was calm and methodical, and the people all did as Simon and his team instructed.
But then one Andorian saw her—and called out, with all the excitement in the universe, “There she is—Ezri Dax!”
Ezri closed her eyes and stiffened.
She heard the cheer—the crying out of elated admiration.
“Shar,” she muttered, “You were asking what was wrong…?”
Shar chuckled. “So that’s it? You hate hero-worship?”
Ezri turned to him. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, it depends. In this case, I would say nothing’s too good for the woman who saved the Federation!”
“Erika Hernandez saved the Federation—not me.”
“Well, she’s not with us, is she? Besides, you definitely helped, to say the least. You’re as much responsible as she was.”
Ezri rolled her eyes, and walked down to all that remained of the massive town square—or the Andorian counterpart—of Laibok, the industrial center of Andor until the Borg had annihilated the city.
She somehow managed to bear it as she was surrounded by them all, hearing them all pour out their thanks to her through their tears. She managed a smile as she acknowledged them, accepting their gratitude. But she didn’t say anything…she couldn’t.
Somehow, looking around her, at the wreckage of what had once been a thriving world—one of the founding worlds of the Federation—somehow, she found herself unable to join in the elation. It seemed so unfair…unfair to the memories of those billions who hadn’t survived—those who had perished.
Finally, she was able to walk up to Simon. The doctor smirked despite himself. “Skip, you’re a celebrity.”
“Oh, knock it off.”
“Well it could have been worse—it could’ve been me.”
Ezri tilted her head, giving him a tired look.
Simon shrugged, turning to a nearby crate, taking out a hypo—probably containing a vaccine. “If it had been me,” he muttered, “I wouldn’t have been able to get as much done as I have.”
Ezri sighed. “I guess not. So, how do we look?”
“As good as can be. We should have all the supplies down and distributed within two days.”
“That’s good…so, how soon can we finish?”
Simon looked to her. “You’re in a hurry?”
“I just want to get to the next one as soon as possible.”
Simon shrugged again. “Well…I guess another day, to make sure everything’s in order.”
“Good to know. Can I help with anything?”
Simon stared at her for a moment, and then nodded. “You can help me distribute this vaccine.”
Ezri nodded, and took a hypo of her own from the crate.
It was fairly routine—although Ezri did find it a little irritating that everyone she vaccinated was staring at her in astonishment and bewilderment—as if they were all unable to comprehend that she would stoop down to “their level” like this.
I’m every bit as flesh and blood as they are—and they’re treating me like this larger-than-life super-heroine. I just did the best I could—I did my duty as a Starfleet officer, and was just in the right place in the right time. I don’t want a pedestal—why are they so desperate to give me one?
It was like this for much of the day. The planet’s leaders—the ones still alive—were to meet with her in a few hours. In the meantime…she was content to help any way she could.
After a while, she looked up to see a child—either a zhen or a shen, because it was clearly a “she”.
Ezri smiled warmly. “Hi!”
The child returned the smile—halfheartedly. “Hello, Miss Ezri.”
Ezri felt her feelings of tension vanish. She liked children, as a rule, and knew how to make them comfortable. “Okay. Sit down—right here.”
The child nodded, and sat beside her.
“So,” Ezri asked, “What’s your name?”
“Shathrissia sh’Laan.”
Ezri heard a slight gasp. She turned to discover it was Shar. For a moment she wondered why—but then, a memory struck. “Shathrissia” had been the name of Shar’s former love—the zhen with whom he had formed a special bond—who had committed suicide when Shar had unwittingly broken her heart….
It was a coincidence. But what a coincidence!
Shar gathered himself, and turned away to tend to a civilian of his own.
Ezri turned back to Shathrissia, intending to force her smile’s return…but before she could, she noticed something else about the child.
“Shathrissia,” she asked, though she feared she knew the answer, “Where’s your family?”
Shathrissia stiffened a bit…but that was her only reaction, as she gave the answer.
“My family’s gone.”
Ezri blinked. “They…your parents?”
“My family.”
Ezri felt her blood run cold. She thought she heard something drop behind her, but that was the farthest thing from her mind.
She swallowed. “Don’t you…don’t you have anyone to—to take care of you?”
“No. They’re all gone.”
Ezri was unable to speak. Unconsciously…she reached out, clasping both the child’s arms, staring at her. How…how can she say that so easily?
The counselor in Ezri knew the answer all too well. It was such a shock for all the victims of the Borg attack—a shock for those survivors who had watched their loved ones perish before them. And for a child—who had almost certainly never seen death—for a child to lose all who were close to her, all who had loved her, all who had cared for her…
“I…” Ezri’s lip quivered, and she found herself unable to say any more.
Shathrissia met her gaze, and finally said, in a near whisper, “Don’t cry, Miss Ezri.”
Ezri let her go, blinking back the tears welling up in her eyes. Without saying another word, she took the child’s wrist, pressing the hypo against it.
She watched the child go, disappearing into the crowd.
She heard Shar speak up, standing behind her. “…Captain?”
Ezri looked up at him, and swallowed. She stood up, and asked him, “Did you hear what she said?”
Shar nodded solemnly.
“She—her whole family—”
“I heard, Captain.”
Ezri turned away, to see if she could make out the child in the crowd. She saw a lot of children like her—children who were alone, who clearly had no one to look after them.
Ezri shook her head, and whispered the thought which had been simmering in the back of her mind since she’d beamed down here…a thought now cemented in words.
“We were too late.”
“Captain?”
Ezri turned to Shar, feeling the tears return—tears of frustration and anger.
“Shar,” she whispered, “You were wondering why I found this…fame of mine so hard to handle?”
Shar’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. He knew full well what she was going to say.
“Shar—if I’m so great…noble…so heroic—why did that happen, hmm? Why couldn’t I have stopped those…those things, before all this happened? Why couldn’t I have saved them, Shar? Why couldn’t I have saved—?”
Her voice cut off, as she felt her fists clench again. She made no attempt to fight the tears this time.
Shar shook his head. His own voice began to break. “Captain…I doubt there was any more you could have done.”
Ezri stiffened, and closed her eyes, forcing down her anger at herself. No…no there wasn’t. Why not? Why wasn’t there more I could have done?
She sighed, and brought herself to whisper, “I don’t deserve any of it.”
“Any…praise?”
Ezri opened her eyes, meeting his gaze, and shook her head. “I don’t deserve that.”
“Captain—you stopped them from killing a lot more.”
“Well,” Ezri muttered, “A lot of good that did her.”
“She’s alive, Ezri. She has a chance—”
“She needs a family, Shar—a family she doesn’t have, because I was too late.”
Shar shook his head softly, saying nothing.
Ezri picked up the hypo, and began to walk off.
Shar’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Ezri.”
Ezri stopped short at his use of her first name.
Shar’s voice was firm and certain. “These people all owe you their lives. Everyone in the Federation owes you their lives. You couldn’t save them all—no one could.”
Ezri squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth, unable to turn to meet his gaze.
Her mind was filled with a memory—setting a course for Earth to help fight against the Borg, wasting precious time as the Aventine set course—until she was dissuaded by Picard, persuaded to go back, and figure out a different, better plan.
Had she not wasted those hours as she did…could she and Hernandez have done what they did sooner?
Was all of this her fault? Could…could she have—?
She heard Shar again, softly repeating, “No one could.”
Ezri sighed…and walked off, going back to work.
It was back to routine—except that she found the looks of admiration even harder to bear. She found herself praying that she wouldn’t snap. These people didn’t know—they wouldn’t deserve that kind of treatment.
She was now treating a young adult chan, applying the hypo to his wrist.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Well, there you go. Thank you.”
He looked her in the eye, with an expression of complete respect. “No, Captain Dax—thank you. For everything.”
Ezri’s lip tightened, but she nodded, and turned to the next patient.
* * *
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