Going out alone in this dense wilderness was probably not a good idea, but Marc was accustomed to putting himself into danger, first as a mercenary and then as an avatar for Khonshu. Either way, he was always being sent to do missions, often with little more than his fists and his wit to protect him, so he tried to think of this in the same way.
Besides, he really didn’t know anybody well enough to be comfortable around as an exploration partner. Yeah, there was Layla, but that got awkward since he was trying to avoid the conversation about where they stood as a couple. There was also Pike, who was the only one besides Layla that knew about his disorder, but he was busy building shelter with a handful of others, and Marc didn’t feel like working as part of a big group.
That’s why he volunteered to scout while at the same time forage for food. .
“Admit it, you have no bloody idea what you’re doing.”
“Shut up.”
“It’s true! Even if you found a nut or berry you wouldn’t know whether or not it was poisonous, and certainly don’t know.”
“We’ll take whatever we find back to the main camp.”
“We’d be better off helping out to clear the area. You just don’t want to work with anybody else.”
Marc's response was an irritated grunt.
“How do you think it makes me feel when you don’t want people to know about me? It’s bad enough as it is when you force me to be quiet.”
“That’s the problem!” Marc replied, raising his voice in frustration. “You don’t shut up!”
There were a few moments of silence where Marc knew he’d crossed a line and Steven was really upset.
“What happened to the understanding we had in the Duat?” Steven finally said, sounding both hurt and accusatory.
“I’m sorry,” Marc quickly responded, feeling guilty. “Things were different there. It was just you and me.”
Understanding the heart of Marc’s anxiety, Steven paused, then said, “Chris is right, mate. Not everybody’s going to judge us. Not everybody’s going to be cruel.”
“I know,” Marc wasn’t convinced, though.
“And I reckon if anybody’s going to be understanding, it’s this lot.”
“Wait, do you hear that?”
“We got people turning into cartoons, for Pete’s sake.”
“Shhhhh! I’m serious. Listen.”
In the silence that followed the faint whirring and beeping sound of… something electronic? … could be detected.
“It’s coming from that direction,” Steven said.
Orlin probably shouldn’t have been out on his own, but he was determined to make up for the fact that he’d been completely worthless last week. Not that it was his fault that he was in a so-called Sleeping Beauty rest, but he felt guilty nonetheless. Also a little ashamed. And very depressed. While he was sleeping, Elsa disappeared. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to her. He didn’t even get to tell her how he felt about her. Well, he had told her a little bit. They were still getting to know each other, after all. But there’d been more he’d hoped to say. More he’d hoped to do. And while he wasn’t angry that she was gone—he knew she was back home with her friends and family and her kingdom—he was depressed. And the only way he knew how to cure that depression was to keep busy. Busy doing the thing he did best.
Focus on other people.
After helping one of the young newcomers from his strange bites, Orlin had gone off into the jungle in search of plants that could be used for medicinal purposes. He had his tricorder and his hypospray, but in the event of a massive attack or group injury he didn’t have enough for everyone. Not with Baymax on low power and the clinic buried beneath years of overgrowth. He wanted to be prepared for whatever might happen next. And knowing Derleth that could have been anything. Literally.
He crouched down near a unique flowering plant. It had five long orange petals and appeared to react to his presence. Possibly in response to his body heat. He used his tricorder to analyze its properties and biological genome. The tricorder whirred as it brought up results to similar plantlife in the Starfleet records stored in the tricorder’s database. Meanwhile the flower swayed to the sound of the electronic buzz and beeps.
Voices.
Orlin’s attention was drawn away from the plant by the sound of two men arguing. He couldn’t make out all of the words, but the tone was clear. They didn’t get along. He stood up, straightening his posture as he stared off in the distance where the sound emerged.
It was probably just someone from Derleth, right? It was probably just one of them. No one had seen any others yet, right? This was supposed to be a Void week. They were probably alone. But, of course, he couldn’t know for certain.
“Hello? Is there—” Orlin cleared his throat. “Is there someone out there?”
Oops. Somebody was there. Had they heard the both of them speaking? Marc froze and considered the pros and cons to not responding and just leaving the area, but before he could act, Steven called out, “Yes! Hello! Be right there!”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Marc growled under his breath. “Shut up!”
“If we’re going to be staying here for any length of time, we might as well start telling others.”
Despite Marc’s internal protests, Steven was now in control of their body and strode forward through the bush in the direction of the other voice.
“Oh, hello. Orlin, isn’t it? I recognize your face from the journal thingie. Good to meet you in person, finally.” Steven’s smile was broad and friendly. “Doing the same thing, I reckon? Scouting and whatnot?”
Orlin tilted his head to the side inquisitively as the man stepped out from the thick brush. He did recognize him from the network. But it was always different seeing someone in person for the first time. And for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he was surprised by the accent. He didn’t know why, but he’d been expecting something else.
Oh well! Orlin shook it off with a smile. A nice smile. A pleasant smile. Because Orlin always tried his best to be friendly and optimistic. Even if he wasn’t exactly feeling his best. Even if he was grieving a bit. But it was a good sort of grief. He was happy. But he was also sad. It was confusing. As so many things were.
“Marc, right? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Orlin paused. “In person, that is! Yes. In person. It’s good to meet you in person. As opposed to the network which, of course, it was also good to meet you on because that is convenient. But—”
Cue an awkward laugh. Poor Orlin. Always so awkward. The literal and figurative antithesis of the other man in Derleth with his face.
“Ah, yes! Well, not scouting, per se. I’m collecting plants that can be used for medicinal purposes.” He held up what looked like a weed. Then he slipped it into a bag he had hitched over his shoulder. “Potentially, at least. Trying to cover all the bases in case Derleth decides to surprise us with more … surprises.”
Way to go, Orlin. Surprise us with surprises? Really smooth.
“Are you … looking for someone? I thought I heard someone else nearby.”
Everything about Orlin’s mannerisms, from his awkward politeness to his patterns of speech, to his friendly smile, was really endearing to Steve. Two peas in a pod, one might say. “Oh wow! And that machine you’re holding helps to identify the plants for you? Brilliant! Are you finding a lot of useful things?”
He was so chuffed that he wasn’t even thinking when he said, “My name’s Steven. With a V.” Internally, he could feel Marc protest, and it manifested in a sort of shoulder spasm.
Marc wanted to tell Orlin they were alone, nobody else, and at first Steven hesitated, then complied by saying, “It’s just me.” Nervous smile. “Sort of. It’s a little tricky to explain…”
“No, God damn it, what are you doing?” Marc suddenly broke through, his accent making it clear somebody else was now speaking. He grimaced and covered his face with both his hands.
“Cat’s out of the bag. It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Steven said, hands dropping to his side. He looked at Orlin, apologetically. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that. That was Marc. Y’know… the one you were writing to before.” He tried to stay positive, but it still felt like a risk, letting others know their truth.
“Well, yes and no,” Orlin said, holding up his tricorder. “Technically it’s a medical tricorder to identify illnesses, bacteria, or injuries. But I’ve adjusted it to the default scientific setting which retains the Starfleet botanical records. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s better than nothing.”
Orlin raised a brow when Marc—no, Steven—corrected his name. He could have sworn he’d read it differently on the network. But he had just come out of a long sleep. Perhaps he had misread it. Or maybe this was the man’s preferred name. Either way, Orlin wasn’t going to argue. That wasn’t his place. Nor was it in his personality. He didn’t like to intrude.
But then Steven spoke with an entirely different accent and, well, Orlin couldn’t help but stare. Not that it was a worried stare or a bothered one! It wasn’t. No immediate judgment on his part. His face was just blank as his mind began to process what he was seeing. And what he was hearing.
It took him a moment. Not long, but there was a considerable pause until the lightbulb went off.
“Ah! I see. I think I see. At least, maybe I understand your queries about my previous hosts a bit better. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Marc. And Steven! Lovely to make both your acquaintances.” Orlin smiled. An honest smile. He wasn’t in the least bit perturbed by this on the outside. A consummate professional. And he wasn’t going to poke or prod unless Steven and Marc wanted him to.
He crouched down by another plant, which honestly looked more like a weed, and hovered the tricorder above it. It whirred and beeped, information popping up on the screen. “What we really need is something more indigenous to a desert climate. Like aloe. But sometimes certain ferns can have similar properties for making salves and ointments.”
The considerable pause felt like an eternity. Marc’s whole body tensed, and he internally cringed as he interpreted Orlin’s stare as judgment. Even Steven, who had been sure that Orlin would be kind and understanding, felt insecure and wondered if he’d done the right thing by revealing their dual identities.
When Orlin finally spoke, it threw Marc into confusion…this level of acceptance was completely unexpected, and he continued to look at Orlin skeptically, expecting for something more. Something negative. When that didn’t come, and the other man turned to analyzing plants, Marc didn’t know how to react.
“Wait a minute,” he said with a hint of anger in his voice. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say? No questions or… or… worry?”
Steven had to interject with a smug little, “I told you so”, but Marc wasn’t having any of it, and shook off the comment as an annoyance and waited for Orlin’s response.
Marc’s sudden frustration surprised Orlin, but he managed to maintain his shock to a curious raise of both brows. Then he turned off the tricorder to stop the background buzzing and whirring, and stood up again.
“Should I be worried?” he asked. It was definitely a very physician-sounding question, but Orlin managed to ask it without sounding demeaning. He had a very good bedside manner which was surprisingly difficult to find among most Starfleet medical officers. And he was proud of his ability to get along with most of his patients.
Orlin scratched the side of his temple where the line of Trill freckles began. “Sure, I can ask questions. Is that what you want? You want me to ask questions? Okay.”
He hooked the tricorder to the side of his belt so his hands could be free. Then he clasped them together in front of him. “Steven doesn’t appear to be quite as concerned as you, Marc. Does that bother you? Are you troubled by your situation? Are you feeling physically unwell?”
Orlin paused. “Are you two not getting along? Granted it’s been a while since my counseling rotation, but my previous host, Ezri, was a counselor and her memories are still fresh in my mind. My certification has lapsed obviously since her passing but I still feel competent enough to navigate couples therapy if that’s something you feel the two of you need. Not necessarily because you’re a couple, of course. But as two people who are closely intertwined with each other on a daily basis I imagine you probably have some conflicts similar to those of any intimate relationship.”
Orlin watched Marc and Steven for any sign that he was asking the right questions. But before the other men could respond, he added, “I don’t know either of you well, but from what I can ascertain you both seem very capable. If you aren’t worried then I don’t see any reason why I should be. But if you’re feeling unwell I can always give you a scan. If Jadzia were here she’d probably recommend some kind of physical activity. She used to work out her worries and frustrations with a bat’leth.”
What did Marc want? That was the thing, he didn’t know. Ultimately he wanted acceptance and peace… but instead his mind prepared him for what he expected, what he thought he deserved. Years of abuse from his mother had beaten him down, both physically and emotionally so that while he hoped for a positive outcome, he couldn’t envision himself actually getting it. Orlin’s kindness, which in a way mirrored the way his father tried to be the calm in the storm of his mother’s hatred, confused Marc to the point of being stunned. All he could do was stare at Orlin, mouth slightly open, shrinking away with a distraught expression.
And like in the past, when Marc was overcome by the trauma of his abuse, Steven stepped in to take over. “You’ll have to excuse us,” he politely began. “Marc’s… well… he’s a little swamped at the moment.” Awkward smile. “We do get along actually, it’s just that we’re still trying to… I guess you can say navigate our situation. In fact, I’ve only found out what’s been happening a little more than a week ago. Before that, I was sure I was going mad.” Another smile. “Turns out that we are.”
Steven swallowed hard, then continued, “Physically I’d say we were as right as rain. Mentally… well… how can I explain? We’re one person with two personalities. With that comes a sort of stigma. What was that word you used? Work out worries and frustrations with a bath?”
Steven and Marc weren’t the only ones with secrets. Orlin had a secret as well. The truth was, he wasn’t a full Trill. He was half Betazoid. In most circumstances that wouldn’t cause a person to bat an eyelash. But on Trill? Only full blooded Trill were selected as hosts for the symbionts. Orlin never should have been a Dax. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the right place at the right time. He spent many years trying to ignore his Betazoid half because of the stigma it caused him. Even now he was reluctant to admit to it. But there was an advantage to being two in one. It offered him different gifts that he otherwise would be unable to have.
Like empathy.
Most Betazoids were telepaths. Full telepaths. It made their planet very open and understanding. Also very confusing. But as he was only half, Orlin acquired empathy as his psionic ability. Which meant he could sense the kind of tug-of-war going on inside the man in front of him. He didn’t know where the emotions came from or why he had them. But Orlin could feel them as though they were palpable on the air. The stunned standoffish isolation of Marc and Steven’s warm willingness to embrace others.
Orlin understood those feelings better than he could ever admit.
He smiled. Another soft, kind, friendly smile. “Of course! Naturally you’d both be feeling a little uncertain or anxious. And then on top of everything you end up here! That alone can cause a lot of emotions for people. But you’re not alone. Not here. Not with each other. In that sense I’d say you’re a step ahead of most people. You don’t have to worry about never having a sounding board. You always have each other to rely on. And to figure things out. But I understand stigma. It’s not an easy thing to accept nor is it easy to share. I think in trying to welcome differences society also puts a lot of pressure on those of us who are different. That’s a lot to deal with.”
A breeze rushed through the trees overhead and Orlin glanced upward. That was odd in the Void.
“I’d offer you a hug, but I get the impression one of you isn’t quite ready for that. So, I’ll just say, if you need someone else to talk to. Or if you need a friend. I’m always happy to listen.” Orlin paused, slightly confused at the question of a bath. “Oh! A bat'leth! It’s a Klingon melee weapon. Kind of like a sword. Usually held with two hands. Very heavy. Very beautiful. Extremely deadly. Jadzia was a fan of Klingon martial arts. I, on the other hand, struggle with most physical coordination.”
Orlin gave an awkward laugh.
Steven responded with an awkward laugh of his own and shook his head once in a gesture that looked like he was trying to rattle his brain into working order. “Big difference there, between a bath and a weapon. I’m usually not the physical sort, either… but I’ve gotten better.” He was thinking about his experience fighting Harrow as Mr. Knight, but bringing up the whole Khonshu connection was a whole other topic that he didn’t really want to talk about. For now, it was enough that he went against Marc by telling Orlin about their dual nature.
“The thing you said about not being alone, it’s very true. Don’t get much by way of privacy, though.” Steven smiled lopsidedly. “I’m not sure how much of this conversation Marc will remember, Sometimes we’re aware of what’s happening when we’re not in control of our body, other times, we black out and we don’t remember a bloody thing. But I’ll be sure to talk to him about it. Marc.. well… we don’t have very many friends where we’re from. Again, it’s something we’re both learning to navigate.”
Orlin’s expression softened the more Steven spoke. He liked Steven. Steven had a natural comfort about him. He was honest and he exuded that honesty. Orlin also felt an openness emanate off of him. Something that seemed like a desire to trust people. Or maybe a need to feel as though he were a part of something. It reminded Orlin of himself. Was that not part of the reason he joined Starfleet? Was that not why he struggled with being joined to Dax? Everyone in his life seemed to be so much more—so much smarter, so much more capable, so much more talented. And then there was Orlin. Forever hoping that he was good enough. That he wouldn’t disappoint the people around him. That he wouldn’t disappoint Dax.
That he wouldn’t disappoint himself.
He nodded. “Well, I would be glad to be your friend. Marc’s friend as well, if he wants that. And I wouldn’t share anything with either you or him that’s told to me in confidence. You both deserve a measure of privacy. Like anyone.”
A small creature, one of the many that had been native to the smaller version of Derleth’s Green, skittered past their feet and hid in the nearby brush.
“Would you like to join me?” Orlin asked. “I could use some help collecting these samples. Maybe we could scout out some of the area as well. I don’t know how far the Green goes out here, but I think it’s worth exploring. And perhaps we could also find some clues as to who has invited us all to this mysterious ball.”