Die Tonight, Live Forever: Chapter I

“Sometimes you just don’t get those things you cry for, Donny. Now get up off the floor and take your brother to the waters. He loves you… Djiu’ cadxya toruz… Maybe that’s more important? Hmm?”

-Reagan Irelle, on Tristan’s 6th birthday.

[SD 240604.21] :: Spacedock, Earth.

The early years of Landon’s life were filled with the happily flowing memories of a loving and beautiful family. A family he’d always hold to the book ends of his life, and in the constant thoughts drifting around in his mind’s eye. They were his reason to being. Now, in his final days on Earth, he found himself wishing he’d never left them. He was finally finished with his joining trials, an arduous journey that had stamped itself into the darker parts of his life’s tests. It seemed painful tests were a part of his fate.

The funeral for his family had been just a few days past as well...

Landon Irelle grabbed a book and two PADDS from the top of his dresser in his quarters. He'd nearly broken out in a hard sweat from hurrying to get back and head out again in time to get to his star base flight class. He cringed as his scraped knee brushed on the inside of his pants. Silently he cursed the steps leading into the residence hall. Lastly, he grabbed the communiqué from the Symbiosis Commission on Trill, kissed the picture of his family on his desk while throwing his book-bag over his head, and bolted out the door. Even the hiss of the door moving to the side seemed to chide him for his untimely scheduling.

Every time he saw that picture, the memories crept up and took a little more of him...

He’d already graduated, and was technically an Ensign in Starfleet at this point, but the star base commanding officer deemed it necessary for all his new pilots to undergo a formal evaluation course before they were allowed to sign on for transport duty. He thought it was a little… yeah. He wasn’t about to make any waves over it though, and he wanted nothing more than to do his best for the higher ups.

He had less than five minutes before he'd be late for class. He was late too often, or so he was told. His instructor, Commander Turner, only let him off the hook because he was at the top of the class. As if he had somehow earned it or something. Thanks for small favors, he supposed. Landon looked at his chronometer one more time.

"Crap!" He said aloud.

Picking up the pace, he was trying to get to the launch platform before precisely 3:00 pm, when the shuttle for his flight control assessment lifted off. Missing takeoff and having to be transported from the base, no matter where you were, was like the walk of shame, just with a bit less exercise. He checked the time once more, wishing he just shaved a few more seconds off his afternoon nap. Unfortunately, Landon had the minor problem of shuffling his feet when trying to steady himself.

His brother Tristan had done the same thing…

Landon was assured by his very best friend, Greg, that the boots from replicator 7, building 4, were even better than standard issue. Something about increased structure. He wasn't entirely sure why one replicator would be somehow magically better than any other, but he decided to give it a shot. It hadn’t yet been a single day since he’d gone and replicated a new pair of boots for his cadet’s uniform and they were already starting to chaff. He was starting to think Greg was kidding, or worse, mocking him from some unseen place nearby. Greg was his best friend, for sure, but was prone to making Landon his source of amusement.

He looked down for a split second. It was just long enough to see what he was running on, and just enough to make a mistake. His foot caught on his pant-leg. With a rustle and a grunt, Landon tripped and launched forward. "Aww cra- !!!"

Landon plowed into the walkway, face first. His hands got caught in his book-bag before they could break his fall. Skidding for a second, he rolled over on his back and let his book-bag slide off a few feet past him.

That was twice in one day, a new record. Great.

He sighed and laid in the glow of the overhead lights for roughly a minute. His cheek burned and stung from the impact, and his uniform was all dusted from the walkway. It was a mixed day. He'd never been this nervous, especially since the news he recieved from Trill. Now was when he was supposed to be feeling amazing and swell with pride. His ego was supposed to be aglow with accomplishment. But he just felt. . . wrong. He squinted.

A little beep from his bookbag went off. It was 3:00 pm.

Landon's eyes shot open and he reached out for his bag. It was about 10 feet away. He heard a buzzing sound. Too late. . .

He felt tingly, everything shimmered, and he was on the floor of the shuttle, on his side with his arm outstretched ahead. Commander Turner was kneeling down in front of him. His groin was accidentally placed at the just the right location to make it look like Landon was reaching for. . .well. Landon snatched his hand back and slowly looked up at the Commander. Smiling innocently.

"Ensign."

"Sir." He looked down at the floor, a little smear of blood on his cheek.

"Glad you could join us. I trust your trip wasn't too rough this time?" The rest of the class sitting in the shuttle all snickered.

Landon sighed and plopped up next to his friend Greg, sinking as low as he could into his seat. "No sir. It was informative, at least." He shot a nasty look at Greg. Whose face was red from holding back laughter. Greg struggled to calm himself and grabbed a dermal regenerator.

"I'll take care of him, sir." Greg added.

"Thank you, Mr. Moiko."

Greg tended to Landon's head wound and looked him over. "I thought you knew I was kidding about those shoes, Donny."

His father called him that until he was 10…

"Greg! You know I don't like it when you call me that." Landon cringed from the sting. It was embarrassing enough being humiliated in front of his entire flight class. Why did he even need to take this class? He'd passed every single piloting assessment at the Academy with flying colors, to use an expression. Now he needed to prove to a star base command crew he was proficient in basic shuttle piloting skills. The lost art of beaurocracy certainly wasn't dead in the Federation.

"Yeah, well. Oh! I heard you got some news! Let's see!", he looked around a second, "where's your bag? -oh. no biggie." Greg laughed again.

Landon rolled his eyes and scratched his head. He'd hoped nobody else would notice he didn't have his bag. Or that he was still all dusty. Greg chose that moment to offer his hands in an effort to remove of the pavement from the young Trill’s uniform. Landon started to recite the message from the Commission, reading the PADD loud enough for Greg to hear, no one else.

"Landon Eirlon Irelle, we're pleased to congratulate you on successfully completing the joining trials and evaluation. However. . ." he trailed off.

Greg sighed and put the dermal regenerator down. Landon had been trying for so long to be approved for joining, Greg couldn't remember a time in the last 3 years he hadn't spoken of it. He considered himself the Trill's big brother in more than a couple ways, especially since his family's death. He readied himself to console him. "Hey buddy it-".

Landon jumped in and interrupted him. "We were unable to match you with the Rexn symbiont as you requested, and have instead matched you with the Neyes Symbiont!" Landon beamed, laughing loudly. Almost awkwardly.

Greg's brow shot up in surprise, and he smiled at Landon's laugh. "You. You were approved for joining? YOU?! That's great!" His voice belied a little disbelief, but he was happy for Landon all the same. They hugged for a second, Landon nearly felt like crying.

"I know! I just can't- can't explain how happy I am. It's just that, well. . . the previous host dies. . . tomorrow," Landon paused, "I leave at 0300 for Trill. His name is Taylor Neyes. I guess he was suffered a massive stab wound to the chest somewhere in the Beta Quadrant. They wouldn't tell me more than that. I guess I'll know soon enough." Landon chuckled weakly and looked down at the floor.

"Hey. Donny, you knew this was coming though, right? It comes with the gig." He rubbed Landon's shoulder. "Be happy!"

Landon looked up and smiled back half-heartedly.

"I guess."

It meant less now…

=/\= End Log =/\=

---

---

[SD 240604.22] :: Trill Homeworld

The lights of some unseen energy shone down on a pallid face of apprehension and hidden uncertainty. Just as they shown on the young Trill, they shown on a man who'd seen the faces of the past. A man who had seen the centuries of old through the eyes of more than nine ferrymen, right up until his sudden and violent end. There were so many life lessons that probably could have kept the more villainous emotions at bay, but Landon apparently lacked them. His face turned to the side as he looked upon the cold remains of the man beside him. The white hospital beds held them next to one another before the surgery was to take place, and Landon was about to receive a gift and a burden. Few Trill had the joyous pleasure and stony determination to reach this point. Landon had his doubts about himself, but there were those who would disagree with him.

The man beside him was still alive as far as the monitors were concerned. A plethora of tubes and connective instruments kept his body just charged enough to keep the symbiont from dying. His body was still just as lifeless as anyone else would be, however, had they been impaled by a Jem'Hadar blade. Landon had spent a moment imagined what it must have been like for Neyes. The symbiont at least. What must it be like to be stabbed in the chest? To die... yet continue living on in a new host. It had happened at least eight times before. The deaths were all different, from what he was told. Most of natural causes. Landon still had to wonder what it must have been like to die, then come back to life again. Born again.

Soon he wouldn't need to wonder.

Would he still love his family? Would the memories of all the others blot out what little he still clung to?

"Landon, son, we're about to begin." The surgeon said, somewhere off on the far side of the surgical bay. Landon cringed as the man called him 'son'. A name he'd reserved only for his parents to call him.

He swallowed the urge to take the man's slight personally, and clenched his jaw in preparation.

The procedure took just under an hour, and he'd been settled down next to the man he was about to know far more intimately for upwards of twenty minutes. It was unnerving to be next a dead person. It brought up thoughts of what his family's bodies were going through. It was morbid, and painful. He wanted it to be over. He wanted to be new, someone else. He wanted to be someone who understood more about why this had happened to him. He wanted to be the wise and seamlessly graceful joined Trill that he'd imagined he would be, unfettered by feelings that normally trip and fumble the less fortunate intellectuals of his race. He wanted to be someone else. Anyone.

He'd dropped the PADD. It just dropped out of his hands. His fingers couldn't hold it after the Commander had given him the news. Shuttle accident. Mom. Dad. Tristan. They were killed instantly...

A tear slipped a cold path down the crook of his eye, then tumbled down an icy line of forced torture. Landon felt it pass over his skin and collect at the bottom of the water-proof bed lining. Stuck between it's previous owner and the elements.

"Okay. Nurse let's begin."...

A hypo-spray touched his neck. Landon's heart slowed. It's steady rhythm faded into a steady and enveloping darkness. Landon looked with tired eyes as the anesthetic's freezing hands took their hold, and gazed once more upon the face of the man. Taylor Neyes.

He felt his head press firmly against the bed's pillow, and he drifted into unconsciousness. Soon he'd leave the name Irelle behind, and take his place as a Neyes. The eleventh in the line of hosts to bear the name...

---

"Protect our flank!" An explosion ripped across the rocks near Taylor's head as he spoke. He cringed and wiped some blood from his brow. "We have to maintain this position or the enemy will push us too back to maintain a stable defense!" Several other marines near him nodded and resumed firing into the mist. Taylor needed to check on the repair team taking care of the damage to his troops transport. He hurried along through the trees, keeping his phaser rifle aimed and ready. Every crack of a twig or rustle of the canopy made the hairs on his neck strike out like knives. In the distance he could hear weapons fire and trees falling in the battle, a scream every now and then. The attack had come from nowhere. They were on mission when someone fired tricobalt devices in their path. Really, they were lucky they weren't incinerated immediately. The concussive explosion tore through their engines like butter and sent them careening to crash on the surface of this marshy planet. Taylor didn't know how long repairs would take, but he was banking on just long enough for them to evacuate back into space before more of these attackers came to help their angry friends. He wasn't in charge, not really. Their commanding officer was injured and unconscious on the transport. He was just the runner, keeping information going. Communications didn't seem to work here, so it was necessary to have someone keeping everyone up to date, and Taylor volunteered. He didn't mind, he liked a good fight.

SNAP

"Sweety come to dinner!" She said loudly. Calling out into the sunlit field. The man Ehryn called her love, was ju-

SNAP

Grecan felt the tinge of happiness slip into his heart as he looked down on the blades. They were a gift from Drehj. He marveled in awesome fascination at their beauty. Cold. Deep. Deadly. He felt comfor-

SNAP

A hand pushed against his face, crushing him against the wall. Every muscle in his body was begging to be set free, but he couldn't get a good hold. There was no getting out of this. "Stop! Please!" He cried. But his assailant wasn't letting up. Another strike pounded against his side. The crushing force vibrated up through his ribs, and one gave way under the blo-

SNAP

The crack behind him made Taylor whip around and catch an enemy soldier coming in behind him. As quickly as he saw him, the soldier rolled and shot three charges into the trees as Taylor threw himself to the ground, then opened fire and caught the bastard right in the gut. Taylor sighed as he held still for a few more moments. But it didn't help him. He distinctly saw 5 more coming right for him, at a jogging pace. Taylor could either bolt the 400 yards to the ship or stay put and hope against reason they wouldn't see him. Neither choice really appealed to him, and he cursed the federation for being so kind and generous, placing him in this damned situation. So he decided to hop to his feet and run, at full spe-

SNAP

Landon rubbed his kid-brother's head under his palm, messing it up hopelessly, smiling mischievously as it was tossed about his head. "LANDON! AW WHAT?! Stop! Come on! XID'DGAI!" Tristan's arms shot up to defend his precious hair-do. That morning's ritual must have taken him more than an hou-

SNAP

Blue blurry flashes shot past him in the forest. They ripped open the sides of trees and made chips of wood explode into his path. Catching a foot by a tree he spun around and layed down several shots and a wide beam phaser blast into the woods behind him. Taylor heard several yells and screams coming from where he had just fired. Satisfied he'd gotten some of them he turned sharply to continue running.

A second later a surge of cold froze his entire body. He tensed up in every muscle he had. Staring him in the face was a grotesque creature, and it smelled like something burnt and rotten. Also, in his hand was a knife that he'd plunged into Taylor's chest. The world began to blur. Then he started to fall back, his legs giving out from under him. Taylor screamed in his head to get up and run, but he felt so cold and so tired. The blur suddenly shimmered to a blue haze that skittered all over. A transporter.

And then the world fell out.

---

A world of air rushed into Landon's lungs as he shot up, a sudden and treacherous gasp the only thing he could hear as his eyes shot open. Reality and dreams throbbed just beyond him. Pulsing and fighting for control of his attention. His hands immediately snapped to his chest, clutching it desperately, trying to remove the knife. The knife. Where was the knife?! The waking world smashing into his own in a thunderous explosion. Fast. So fast. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt every second tick off like an eternity of some alien world he didn't understand. Sight. Smell. Sound. Taste. Touch. And something ...else. Something else was here! It was all a thousand times more bright, intense, loud and unbelievably irritating as any other time he could remember. He could practically feel the different patterns of air in the room brushing against his skin... and the strange lingering intuition that someone else was here...

The room was dark except for a small light in the corner, which illuminated a smaller box of personal belongings. Wait...

Footsteps... He could hear them. He recognized them. 110 meters away. 106. 95. He could count the distance without even thinking.

He shot out of bed and took a fighting stance he could neither name, nor remember learning. Yet it felt as natural to him as standing.

"Landon!" Someone called, as the lights came on. The figure of a man appeared in the doorway. It was sharp and clear, this being. But he couldn't quite make him out well enough to name him. He knew his name though. He did... Who was he?

"Yju'da! Neixuingya eas illth'jxi!" Landon hissed. His fingers clenched tightly around his sweating fist. This wasn't happening right. He knew he should know what was going on. He knew what should be happening... but he couldn't name it. WHO ELSE WAS HERE?!

The man had the features of someone he knew. Someone he felt like he could trust, but he was just so confused. Where was he? Where was his family. "Landon! It's me... Greg. Calm down. You're fine. You're on Trill. They brought me here because your joining took, but the melding didn't go as they expected. You're experiencing something known as uh," he paused for a moment, thinking, "...y'djai... or something weird like that. I don't speak Trill so whatever, but come on, man. You're Landon. You're fine. You got our of surgery four days ago." His expression was expectant, as if he thought somehow his words were going to help. But Landon couldn't understand what language he was speaking in.

Landon's lips pressed together. Greg. He knew Greg. Yet he knew this man too. Greg was a man he'd traded with over the past 4 yours on the USS Ferragut. They'd taken his ship in. Helped make repairs. Wait... no. In the Academy? He went to the Academy? Starfleet...

His features softened and his guard dropped. This was Greg. It was 2406. But... it was 2279... he could remember it like yesterday... his dry lips parted and his scratchy voice managed to say the only thing he could remember. "...greg"

It was all he could manage before the pulsing senses in his head overtook him. Pushing him back into the dark.

=/\= END LOG =/\=

“Sometimes you just don’t get those things you cry for, Donny. Now get up off the floor and take your brother to the waters. He loves you… Djiu’ cadxya toruz… Maybe that’s more important? Hmm?”

-Reagan Irelle, on Tristan’s 6th birthday.

---

---

[SD 240605.01] :: Trill Symbiosis Recovery Clinic

The speckled shapes around him, moving absently as he moved his head, began to retake their rightful focus. A few people stood at the foot of his bed, and they simply stood. Gregory smiled a little, wearing his blue science uniform. Landon's head was still throbbing, just as it did every morning when he woke up, and he groaned a little in protest as he quickly realized he was slowly ascending from his comfortable sleep. The sheets of his bed wrinkled around his legs and moved with him while he stretched a little. Every time he woke up he had this feeling that he was backed by an army. He was supported by an unseen gathering of rallying minds that no one else had. It was them against the world.

This morning was a little different.

"Landon Irelle. Er. Excuse me. Landon... Neyes. Good morning. I'm counselor Odalla." The woman standing next to Greg said, she then motioned to the taller man opposite her, "and this is Admiral Edrayu. We're here to see if you're feeling well enough to be fit for duty."

Landon scoffed. "Sweety there's been a monster eating half my dinners for a weeks or so. I've got a jxuxi'o of a headache and you wa-," Landon grinned and wiped a little eye booger away, not looking as he flicked it off to the side, "oh hey, Greg. You bring these eudgj'ids in here?"

Greg stifled an awkward chuckle as he looked to the side, "We're here to help Donny."

Don't call me that.

Oh relax. He's being friendly.

The few days prior had been a spectacle of some dark days in Landon's memory, which had admittedly become much more vast, and largely unexplored. Landon could tell that Greg wasn't as comfortable around him as he used to be. Why should he be? Landon wasn't really Donny anymore, he felt like a phased out Donny with the tweaking of an entirely new person. It was as if Landon Irelle was someone he used to remember being, but now he had stepped into the body of someone else. Someone new and bold, courageous, strong, sure of himself. He had memories that were old and troubling. Happy and new. Loving and dark. They appeared to him like any other memory would, except they were through the eyes of someone he wasn't. Days that had passed in pain were burned into the forefront of his mind, and the happy ones jumped around as he was reminded of things he hadn't even realized he knew. For instance Greg's hair looked like a style that was popular on Bajor about 50 or so years ago. Landon himself had never set foot on Bajor, even though it wasn't that far from Trill. Toran, however, had been to Bajor numerous times. He traded there on a regular basis. Landon could remember this one time when-

"Mr. Irelle?"

Landon's eyes snapped back as he was reminded there was actually company around. He couldn't be drifting off into his newfound universe. "Neyes."

"Oh yes, excuse me." The Admiral smiled a little, remembering his mistake. "We're here to talk to you about how you'd feel about being reinstated to active duty next week. You've spent the better part of the last couple weeks on Trill, and the Symbiosis Commission has assured me that you're through the worst of your condition."

The counselor held up a graceful hand. Neyes looked at her as she pursed her lips a little, inserting herself to no doubt correct some ill-informed choice of words on the Admiral's part. Landon smiled a little to himself as he thought about what it must be like for the young woman, to be in the shadow of a man who no doubt has had little recent experience being the guy out of his element. He was surely an excellent leader, but he was no official on the matters of Landon's journey since his journey. The woman smiled a little, giving the Admiral a soft and apologetic look.

Landon grinned to himself as he watched the two interact in that moment. Hilarious.

"Sir. What I think you mean to tell the Ensign is since you're doing better," she looked to Neyes, "we'd like to extend our congratulations on your successful joining. Once you feel you're ready, we have some open positions we feel you might like to try." She took a few steps past Greg and the Admiral, and held out a wide document PADD.

OH! Well she smells nice. I've never been able to find a perfume that fit me tha-

I don't wear perfume anymore, my dear.

Well I used to...

His lips shaped into a little face of interest, and his eyebrows raised slightly, Landon took the PADD and nodded gratefully to the counselor. She really did smell nice. After taking the PADD, he needed only a moment to read practically everything on it. There were only two assignments on the list after all. It did irk him a little to see such a short list of choices, especially given how skilled he was. Yet he clung to humility as he smiled diplomatically back at the two stooges Starfleet had sent not for Neyes' benefit, but for the benefit of the Federation/Trill relations. Landon was carrying one of the more ancient symbionts, and that meant that his position in Starfleet was subject to a little more bureaucratic nonsense. The worm wasn't going to win him any promotions, and it certainly didn't mean he was suddenly experienced enough to start acting higher than his status as an Ensign. Even if he felt a little differently.

"Ah. I see I have so many options available to me." He quipped.

The Admiral shifted a little. "We felt you might like to start off slowly. Given your rough ride since the joining, you must certainly understand. We could have simply ordered you into your previous post, but the good counselor suggested we add a deep-space assignment to the list." He looked down and out the corner of his eye at her.

"Since you have so much starship experience as a symbiont, we thought you might benefit just as much from a science vessel assignment as you would your star base shuttle pilot assignment." She added, nodding a little and motioning with her hands. To Landon, they looked like they were trying not to insult him. Normally he would have expected two people this young to treat him with the respect he deserved, but then he had to remember that he was really just 23 years old in this host. She seemed too ready to point out the benefits to him, and to make sure he felt included in this obvious bullshit display of interest in his life. The Admiral was all to ready to simply defend his position in the most clean cut and directive way possible, with a little positive spin.

Neyes rolled his eyes.

"Please. Just send me into space. Getting holed up in a moon-sized cage of traffic chaos isn't really on my to-do list right now, so I'll let you torpedo me into the depths of beyond."

"Mr. Neyes, if you feel lik-" She started.

"Save it, ma'am." Landon winced. "You're giving me a headache with this squishy-feely crap. I want the assignment on the Melbourne. Confederate fleet or no." He said, moving his right hand around in the air to silence her. His slid his feet over the edge of his bed and let them fall downwards onto the floor. It was cold, but still the first time he'd let himself out of bed in a few days. It was relieving to be back on solid ground for a change, even if there were two very annoying people mucking it all up for him...

"Greg, let's go." Neyes said, making his way over to the doorway. "It was nice to meet you both." Landon gave a passing glance at both the Admiral and the counselor.

Greg's brow shot up as he tried to figure out what to do, but Landon simply took his hand and the two left out of the doorway into the clinic, leaving behind the others. The counselor, however, wasn't ready to be dismissed from Neyes' attention.

"Ensign Neyes! You're still under my supervision for the next week!" She called out after him, hopping along awkwardly behind him as she tried to steady herself on her high-heeled shoes. "We need to discuss your placement and what you'll be doing for the remainder of your recovery period."

Landon kept on moving down the hall, not even turning to face the woman. "I've got some things to take care of. You're welcome to come if you'd like." And indeed he did. Landon had spent the better part of the last week piecing together samples of thoughts and memories that made his family's death a little more suspicious than he was comfortable with. With a few new perspectives to take into account, he felt like something was amiss within his past business contacts, and that they needed a talking to.

"Landon, where are we going?" Greg asked, following along side him.

The Trill's face softened a little. "I have questions, Gregory."

"Questions?"

"Yeah. But first we're gonna pick up my old ride."

=/\= End Log =/\=

---

---

[SD 240605.01] :: Trill Djusih Landing Dock

The three sat in a triangle in the back of a crowded transport. It's noisy atmosphere provided the perfect backdrop for Landon's concentration, and his mind had been reeling since he'd woken up almost two weeks ago. The new exposure to a variety of viewpoints was intoxicating and he couldn't seem to ignore the thoughts that pecked away inside his mind. There was something wrong with what happened to his family. It kept repeating over and over and over again, as if his subconscious mind knew something, but wasn't able to simply tell him.

Shuttle accident? His shuttles worked perfectly. They always had. No, this was something else. Someone had either neglected to tell him something or he was missing a big part of the puzzle.

Maybe he didn't know, and he was simply going insane as so many joined Trill had done in the past. He wasn't exactly the first choice for the Neyes joining, even though he was an acceptable candidate. After waking up for the first time in the hospital, he was told that Taylor was too far from any of the other choice hosts, and he was the only one near enough to the symbiont to safely transfer. It was a shame to accept such an honorable position, knowing that he wasn't really the first choice, but that didn't detract from his current situation. He was on a hunt for the facts. He had a feeling it would transform into a hunt for a murderer soon enough.

For the most part, the three had been sitting in a relative silence as they made their way across the vast launchpads that covered a great majority of the eastern coastline on this continent. Greg had been actively watching the massive starships and transports lifting off and touching down as their little shuttle whizzed past. He admired Greg for his unflinching support, but worried what would come of their friendship.

"Mr. Neyes. Since you won't answer any of my official questions regarding your health, I'd like to ask you about-", Counselor Odalla started.

"I'm fine," said Landon matter-of-fact, his eyes moved to meet hers, "and we're almost there." Every word effected their intended purpose of silencing her. Landon had his uses for officials and counselors, but answering their incessant inquiries and dodging their probing analysis was a path he needed to avoid right now. He didn't need the distraction, and she really didn't need to know all the things she was asking. It wasn't like anyone was going to read her report on him once she finished it, anyway. The Starfleet bureaucracy was obvious and penetrating. While he admired the human race's drive to be the go-to example to the rest of the galaxy, he didn't necessarily agree that their ideals were the best way to handle every situation. In this case, he needed the counselor to be his keycard, if she was willing. If she wasn't... he had other means of getting into places he shouldn't be going.

Odalla raised an eyebrow in annoyance, and returned to her PADD.

Greg pulled his eyes off the bay window glass and finally turned to face them. His face was it's usual "big-brother" kind of look, but he'd obviously missed a day or so of shaving, because both the counselor and Neyes had noticed some obvious stubble coming in around the man's jaw-line. "Donny, what are we going to do once we get your shuttle? You say you have some contacts in your old line of business, but how do we know you'll find what information you need? For all we know these people are dangerous."

"Why does everyone need to know what's going on all the time?" Landon asked, irritated.

Greg shot him a look, "Would you rather we leave?!"

"It's not that," Neyes' voice thrummed down from it's angry flare to a resolute and diplomatic tone, "but can't you trust I know what I'm doing? I'd have thought we'd have known each other long enough for you to do at least that."

"But you're not really Landon anymore, right?!" Greg's frustration began to show in pangs.

"Oh course I am! How dare you sta-"

"Gentlemen!" Odalla held out a hand on either side of her, quelling the heated exchange. It was embarrassing enough having to report that she was chasing a young and recently joined host around, but to be subjected to public transportation... really. "This isn't going to get us anything useful, and I suggest you both take a moment to reflect on why you're upset. I know I have been."

Neyes sighed, and looked back over his shoulder. She was right about one thing, they weren't going to get anywhere fighting with each other. In his retreat, Landon stole a look at Greg, who had turned away and continued looking out the window. It must have been hard, he thought to himself, for Greg to see his friend going through so much. In many respects Landon wasn't really the same man Greg had grown up with. In many ways they had less in common now than they ever did before.

How sad...

Oh stop it, he'll get over it.

"All passengers departing at L'iaru Station, please disembark." The overhead PA announced.

The three gathered the small bags they'd brought with them and made their way off the transport. In their short flight, they'd covered about half the distance of the Trill homeworld. A little fleeting moment of nostalgia struck at Neyes as the wind on the platform whipped up at his clothes and hair. The feeling was something he'd come to remember fondly, and he smiled a little despite himself as they crossed the platform to the elevator that would take them down the structure to the small craft loading dock. He'd made the arrangements for his ship to be moved and prepped for launch while they were on the shuttle. He had told them the truth when he'd said he still had contacts in his old business.

It was the people he didn't know that were going to have to explain themselves to him.

"You're in for a treat, buddies." He grinned and made a sweeping gesture at the entrance of the lift. Inviting them in.

Both the Counselor and Greg looked at each other quizzically. Greg looked confused, "Buddies?"

"What?" Landon asked, also confused.

"What in good names is 'buddies'?" Odalla straightened, beginning to doubt the stability of her new patient. She regarded him with a analytical and judgmental eye, and made note that he may have started to invent his own language in order to deal with his conflicted feelings. She'd certainly seen it before.d

Neyes rolled his eyes. "Just get in."

Once they'd shuffled into the elevator, he spent the next few minutes describing his vessel to them in radiant detail. While he spoke, it seemed like his worries as well as his dark cloud were lifted for just a few short moments. The description of his vessel was one of fantastical amazement and jolly good old times. He recounted several stories about the ship, including a few about other ships and hosts that Greg had never heard before.

Once they stepped down onto the final platform, both Landon's travelling companions looked up in awe. Before them, directly across a huge floor space was a massive gateway door that led out into the atmosphere of the planet. Colossal support structured held the frame of the enormous hangar and ships flew overhead with plenty of room to spare. Landon moved with intense purpose as he bid them to follow his closely. Being here again was making his heart race and his ears pop. Part of him had thought that his ship would lie here in the bowels of this building for the remainder of his lifetime.

"Almost...", Landon felt like his heart would tear itself from his chest. "There!"

Once again at long last. His home away from home.

=/\= TBC =/\=

---

---

[SD 240605.01] :: Trillian Civilian Ship (TCS) Nodlan

After showing them his ship, which in a moment of uncertain cleverness he'd named the "Nodlan", they promptly launched in the direction of some unknown destination. Neyes knew exactly where he was going, but he had refused to divulge that to his colleagues.

They hadn't been in space for an hour before the counselor started in on her tirade about protocol again. As the collected and oh-so-proper voice rang out its disapproval of his activities, Landon's eyes slowly rolled back and closed in annoyance. He was resisting the urge to lock her in the sleeping quarters, and every second he didn't was a second he regretted. She had first found the ship itself to be something less than appropriate for someone of her status. As if being a counselor afforded her special treatment on a non-sanctioned mission of his own personal interest. Secondly, she protested his continuing unwillingness to be a part of her counseling activities. Now... he was flying too fast. As if he had any control over the dynamics of warp travel.

"Please." He sighed. "Just... Please, Counselor." Landon's voice was tired and withholding.

"You are getting a little out of control, Odalla."

The Trill counselor immediately let her frustration be known as she slammed down her PADDs onto the rear controls. "HOW am I supposed to get any work done with you, Ensign?! You refuse to talk about anything other than this shuttle, and even then you color it with alien terms neither one of us can understand? Have you forgotten the Trill language altogether?" She fumed, arms now crossed over her chest.

Landon smiled, probably with more satisfaction than he should have. "Actually, I probably know it better than you do now. I just don't care to show it off to everyone."

Her mouth opened in protest, stricken by his back-handed comment.

With a resigned roll of his eyes, Neyes let her attitude slide. There was no point in exchanging repartee with her for the next few days. He felt silly trying to speak his feelings to her, and especially in front of his closest friend. Greg was really alien to all this. Odalla and Neyes were both from Trill. She was particularly 'comfortable', being a counselor who handles newly joined officers on a regular basis. Greg had to at least feel a little out of place, and Landon didn't want to make it any worse for him. He felt it wasn't necessary, and anything she had to say to him was something he was going to figure out on his own eventually anyway. He'd managed for the last 700 years or so without a baby-sitter...

"I'm here, but someone's watching everything I do. The weird part is that it feels like it's me who's watching. I'm watching myself. It's hard to explain. How's that? That helpful? Can you get some work done now? We've got another four hours of traveling ahead of us, so you'd probably be better off if you made it stretch." He looked over his shoulder towards her in the back. He gave her a warning and incredulous wink as she stared back at him.

Odalla remained silent for a moment as she gathered her devices and snapped back into her professional mode of attitude, suddenly charged with renewed purpose. "Oh well, I see you've wanted to talk all this time." Her voice rang with an self-important slight. "I knew I'd eventually manage to get something out of you."

"You don't have to try that hard." Landon said as he continued to work the controls. "You just have to try not to be such a bitch. After that I'm sure you'll go places." He smiled.

Greg snorted a quick laugh and immediately stifled his surprise at hearing Landon say 'bitch'.

An uncomfortable silence filled the cabin, with both the men realizing they may have crossed some unseen line. Odalla was many things, but meaningfully hurtful wasn't one of them. Her demeanor slowly solidified into a stonewall, as she quietly excused herself from the main cabin and moved into one of the aft quarters. The doors slid shut with an almost palpable attitude, and both Landon and Greg sat in the quiet of their thoughts for a moment before either one made any kind of motion. With no one really knowing what he was up to, Landon understood why tensions would be high. Greg was tagging along out of trust and loyalty to his friend, and Odalla felt pride in doing whatever was necessary to do her job. If that meant she followed her charge on a crazy space ride to an unknown destination, so be it. He respecter her for that, but it wasn't going to be enough to get in his way.

Greg stood and walked up to the co-pilot's controls at the front of the small bridge. Taking the seat, he activated the panel and tapped a few buttons. Neyes already knew what was going on. "I can't tell you where we're going, Greg."

"But why, Donny-

"Don't call me that."

Landon looked over when he heard Greg slam his fist down onto the control panel. It fizzled then went black, a similarly dark and frustrated expression covered Greg's face. "That's the most immense load of bullshit about this so far, Landon."

Neyes looked down then continued to work the controls, deciding he'd just let Greg have this one.

"I'm your best friend. I have been since we met at the mixer when we were accepted to the Academy. You were weird, unsure and sickeningly ambitious. Now you're cocky and arrogant and know how to do things no one should know. You're name's different and you don't act the same. You're still Donny to me, though, Landon. You're always going to be fucking Donny until the day you die. You've been Neyes for barely a week, practically. I know you don't feel the same, or whatever, but I don't understand. Shouldn't someone like you just GET that I need to hold onto my friend? Aren't you wise beyond all measure and know the secrets of living forever? I need you to keep being Donny. Or else we're not friends anymore. We might as well be strangers if I can't at least hold onto that, don't you see that?!"

The words stung a little. For what he knew, Landon was familiar with just about every feeling someone could know. They still hurt though, even after everything he could recall happening to him. This never got easier. "You're right, Greg."

"Goddamn right I'm right." Greg said, rubbing his hand angrily.

A little grin turned up the corner of Neyes' mouth. His voice caught for a moment as he tried to compose himself. "Call me whatever you want." He turned at looked straight at his friend. His best friend. "I'm still me. Realistically, anyway. I remember that guy you're talking about, and I feel like he's a part of who I am. But... Greg. I know things..." Neyes' eyes belied a hint of fear as he spoke, as if the words would strike out at him for simply uttering the sentence. "I know so much about things I can't even begin to describe to you. There are secrets about the world we live in... I can't be the same guy you knew before. I'm going to be Neyes whether either one of us can handle it or not. Sometimes I wish I could go back home and forget about all this, but we both know it's not possible and we have to deal with the way things have happened.

"I'm still me though, and we're still us. Greg and Donny, unstoppable force of nightmares." Landon grinned, holding out his hand in a familiar fashion.

Greg looked at him for a long moment. The look on his face made Landon think perhaps his expressions of honesty weren't enough to win his friend over. They had been friends for a good deal of Landon's life so far, and he felt like it was important to at least try to hold onto something stable right now. Partly because he wanted it, and partly because he needed it.

With a sigh, Greg also held out his hand. They shook like normal, then proceeded with their secret handshake. A wiggle of the fingers, some odd motions and a whistle. It was odd, but it had almost always made Landon laugh. This time was no different.

=/\= END LOG =/\=

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