Leaning back wearily in her padded chair, the president stared in quiet contemplation at the balcony window. In the distance, the crowds milling about in the golden early-morning sunlight seemed to be expanding. Faces were turned up toward the balcony, perhaps in eager anticipation, perhaps in righteous anger.
After a seeming eternity during which no one spoke or moved, the president spoke in a quiet yet determined voice. “Perhaps you’re right.” Bashir wasn’t at all certain to whom she had spoken.
Drawing herself erect in her seat, the president silently motioned for everyone to back away from the visual pickup that was mounted on her desk. It was obvious that she had reached a decision.
Withdrawing with Ezri and Gard to a far corner of the chamber, Bashir watched as a red light activated on the desk, signaling that the president was now addressing the entire Trill humanoid population, including the surviving members of the Senate, via the planet’s civilian and military comnets. The lighting around her grew in intensity as the polarization of the balcony windows adjusted to make the president conspicuously visible from the street. For Bashir the moment became elastic, and felt supercharged with uncertainty.
He knew only one thing for sure: it was a damned dangerous time to be the president of Trill.
Dax thought her heart might try to climb out of her throat as the president began speaking to the entire planet. She was surprised, though pleased, when the president began by dealing with the neo-Purists’ accusations—not by denying them, but by essentially corroborating most of them. Yes, the president explained unflinchingly, the Trill government had for many centuries concealed the close relationship between the symbionts and the alien parasites. She accepted culpability for continuing the dishonest policies of her twenty-two government predecessors, all of whom had known the truth.
Those earlier Trill governments knew the truth because of what Audrid and Jayvin discovered in that comet,Dax thought, feeling guilt because of Audrid’s complicity. And they were able to keep it hidden for as long as they did because Audrid kept silent.
Then the president went a step further, explaining that ancient Trill scientists created the parasites millennia in the past—and that they also were forced to try to destroy them, though without complete success. That failure, she said, not only had doomed millions of Trill colonists on Kurl, but had also given rise to the ancestors of the modern parasites.
Dax glanced over at Julian, whose dark eyes seemed riveted on the crowds visible through the balcony windows. She followed his gaze and noticed that the distant clusters of people outside were moving. Arms were flailing in what appeared to be angry gestures.
Switching to a respectful, almost hushed tone, the president said, “This ages-old cover-up has led us all to a precipice. While we do not as yet have accurate figures, we do know that the worldwide humanoid death toll is already in the thousands. The radiation casualties among the symbionts alone have been equally severe; as a result of the neo-Purist bombings, the symbiont population has suffered a terrible ‘crash’ in terms of its overall numbers, which have been reduced by upwards of ninety percent.”
Genuine anger crept into the president’s tone. “You may rest assured that the terrorists responsible for this atrocity will be apprehended and punished. Several of the neo-Purist ringleaders—those who weren’t killed by their own weaponry—are already in custody.”
Dax looked at Gard, whose attention was absorbed by the silent comm unit on his wrist. A text message,Dax thought.
Gard’s wide eyes and pallid cheeks told her that the news he was receiving couldn’t be good. Fear gripped her soul with sharp-bladed fingers. Perhaps Gard and Julian had been right to counsel caution. Had she just succeeded in persuading the president to say entirely too much, and to do it far too soon?
Gard quickly tapped several commands into his comm unit. The president paused momentarily in her speech as she glanced at her desk console; she was evidently now in possession of the same information Gard had just received.
Though Dax couldn’t see Gard’s text message from where she stood, she had a pretty good idea of its contents. They’re beginning to riot again. The people have heard the truth, but they’re just too angry to deal with it appropriately.
What have I just done?
The president felt shaken to the core by what Gard had just told her. Once again the streets of Trill’s most populous cities, from Gheryzan to Tenara, were erupting in spontaneous violence—and the revelations she had just made were the most obvious cause.
The president quietly shook herself; now was the time for leadership, not paralysis. Somehow, in spite of the deep emptiness—the utter aloneness—that she felt, she found the strength to continue with her address.
“Because…because of the terrorist attacks, the symbiont population has been greatly reduced. It will no doubt take many years—perhaps many decades—before the symbiont breeding population is once again large enough to allow any symbionts to be spared for symbiosis.
“I must therefore issue the following emergency proclamation: the Symbiosis Commission shall authorize no new joinings, and shall suspend all pending joinings, until further notice and after senatorial and executive review. Allsymbionts currently living in conjoined status with humanoids will be returned to the breeding pools at the end of the lifetimes of their current hosts, and will not be reassigned to new hosts at that time.
“This indefinite moratorium on joining constitutes a wrenching change for our world, to be sure. But this change is dictated by absolute biological necessity. Replacements must be bred for the symbionts who died in the attacks, and those who were injured and left without hosts will require time to recover, as well as to breed. No healthy joined person’s symbiont will be taken away. But every available symbiont will be taken to the spawning grounds to help the species increase its numbers as quickly as possible. The symbionts mustsurvive. They mustbe protected, if Trill humanoids are ever again to hope to benefit from the long lives, the shared experiences, the accumulated wisdom—and the tandem immortality—gifted to us by our sister species.
“As radical—and perhaps frightening—as this change is, it also affords us a unique opportunity. While we are waiting for the symbiont population to replenish its numbers—and thereby to become ready once again for symbiosis—the distinctions our society has drawn between the joined and the unjoined will shrink and vanish, as will the number of joined Trill citizens who live among us.
“We will put the lie to the charge that only the joined rate positions of power and influence in this society, while recognizing that we have erred badly in this regard in the past. We will re-mold our civilization into something more all-inclusive than has ever existed on Trill before. No longer will the topmost strata of Trill society be dominated by a tiny minority. In a manner of speaking, we will allbe unjoined sooner or later.”
This is it,she thought, pausing in her oratory. She wished she felt as confident about her next action as she had when she had originally conceived this plan.
Of course, she had still been joined then.
With all the conviction and dignity she could muster, the president rose from her chair. As she stood behind the desk, she imagined she could feel the delicate wings of a nest of yilgamoths fluttering inside her abdominal pouch. She had yet to get used to its strangely flattened condition.
“I cannot issue such a sweeping proclamation without including myself,” the president said, opening her charcoal-colored jacket, along with the lower portion of the formal white tunic she wore beneath it.
She knew that her visibly slack abdominal pouch was now exposed to the entire Trill comnet.