May 16, 2367

Starbase 220

Mask firmly in place Tom laughed and chatted with the other Engineering team members as they all sat together celebrating another successful project milestone. Don't Panic. It's just a coincidence. DON'T Panic. Captain Plith had stopped by earlier to let Tom know personally that Ambassador Dax had arrived on the station and was wanting a get together and chat with each of the pilots who'd had a part to play in the successful diplomatic event earlier that week. Tom wanted to believe that it was a coincidence. But after all those years honing his instincts in the Delta Quadrant, he couldn't. What does he want this time? Tom thought of all the other times in his life when Ambassador Dax had visited with his parents. How was it that every time Tom did something even slightly noteworthy that man managed to turn up at an event that he was at soon afterwards. And every time, or so it seemed to him, Ambassador Dax would be more interested in speaking to him than his father. He knows, whispered Merrick Vahr's voice through his consciousness. How could he not? You know what Emony and I were to each other.

Tom shakily put down his Flemharan Sunburst and stood up. "Won't be long guys," Tom deliberately added a carefree saunter to his gait as he headed to the toilets.

Once in the privacy of the cubicle, Tom proceeded to silently argue with himself. "Ugh! That is something I do not want to think about. Emony might have been a hottie, but this Dax is an old man. Yuck! He must be at least a hundred, these days. And oh man. This is so weird. I am not Merrick Vahr. I am Tom Paris. Thomas Eugene Paris. Human. Not Trill. Not Vulcan. Human. Get it together, idiot. You can do this. Paris human mask 10. You can do it. Human. I am human. Thomas Eugene Paris. Human. Got it?"

No, I don't got it. I need to beat a hasty retreat and sleep on it.

Tom rose and returned to join his workmates. A few minutes of scintillating small talk and then the opportunity opened up. Deliberately Tom yawned. "Wow, I don't know about you guys. But I'm beat. Working for a slave driver really saps the energy right out of a person." With a grin and a wink at his room-mate and supervisor Tom took advantage of the ensuing laughter and rebuttal by Rahara's husband Alex to make his exit, once again oblivious to the admiring glances watching his graceful movements with interest.

In his room Tom paced to and fro pondering the best way to deal with this latest thorn in his path. He remembered clearly the Trill's interest in him when he first returned from the Beta Quadrant

Earthdate: April 7, 2351;

Starfleet Medical

Tom had been pretending to read a book while listening in on the intense medical conversation going on between his parents and the doctors for the last hour. Tom had always had superior hearing. Now, honed by the recent experience of carrying not one but two Vulcan katras as well as a symbiont's entire memories of multiple lifetimes for a year and a half Tom clearly heard and understood the whispered reports between the doctor's and his parents. It appeared that while Starfleet doctors had at first been convinced that, with the two katras returned to Vulcan, Tom would quickly recover and his memory return to normal, now - five days on and in light of his Vulcan typified responses - there was some little concern on the specially imported Vulcan Doctor's part that the amount of recent neural activity still seemed abnormally large for a child his age, even allowing for the extent of trauma experienced. They were wanting to take some more extreme measures to ensure that the Vulcan memories were erased from his mind. His parents and the other doctors felt that the Vulcans were being somewhat paranoid and precipitous in their demand for immediate intervention.

Overhearing the hushed concerns being voiced Tom frowned into his book. For the last year and a half, he had dwelt among strange aliens. Their lack of knowledge of Federation species meant that he had been left unfettered to develop his new persona as an adaptive blend of human/trill/Vulcan traits. He liked it. He also liked the presence of the Vahr consciousness which sometimes sounded like his own thoughts, but at other times like having a permanent friend hidden his head. He never felt alone and forgotten anymore. But now he was back in the Federation, his every move was being watched and analysed for Vulcan influences that 'shouldn't be there now that the katra's have been removed.' It's just a good thing that Starfleet Medical doesn't know that trills are a joined species and haven't enquired about whether I've retained any of the Trill or symbiont's memories in addition to Vulcan ones.

Mention of his temporary housing of the two Vulcan katras to Starfleet medical had been unavoidable. He'd gone directly to Vulcan to return them. Dealing with the fallout of that experience had been bad enough. His acquired knowledge of the trill symbiosis commission left him in little doubt as to what his reception there would be also. The Trill Home World can just live with their loss of the Vahr Symbiont. There was no way he was going to volunteer for anything else. To that end, Tom had thankfully chosen to carefully hide the truth about the existence of symbionts and of retaining the symbiont's memories from Starfleet's prying eyes.

Now that the specially brought in Vulcan doctors were discussing various options to employ if "the boy" did not sufficiently recover Tom was rethinking his game plan. No way am I going to submit myself to that procedure. 'Vahr' symbiont memories fired up in his mind as Tom flickered though various plans and options. Knowledge input from the two previous Starfleet hosts - as well as the Vulcan ability to purge unwanted emotions from the mind's surface, to think logically and to compartmentalize - enabled his symbiont friendly brain to formulate a survival plan to ensure his "new" memories stayed safely intact, but hidden, from Starfleet, the Vulcan scientists and the doctors. No problem. With two lifetimes of memories of Starfleet protocol and intelligence skills to draw on, it will be easy to hide in plain sight, even around telepaths. Tom relaxed, comforted by the plan he had developed,

Ten minutes later, Tom was dismayed to see a Trill Doctor walk into his ward and join the discussions taking place. Oh-Oh Trouble! Tom recognised the Doctor immediately as one of the specially assigned joined Trills who reported directly back to the Trill Symbiosis Commission on any and all Starfleet Medical activity that might negatively impact the safety of the Trill Home World. This paranoia, Tom knew, dated back to the L'dira attack of 2063. It did, however, mean bad news for him personally. It meant that the symbiosis commission was suspicious. He panicked.

May 16, 2367

Starbase 220

Snapping back to himself, Tom laughed quietly as he remembered his younger 7 year-old self. Trills were never joined as children. It being recognized that a certain level of mental and physical brain maturity was necessary to ensure a healthy joining.

Tom's immature brain had struggled to contain and sort the conflicting memories and feelings washing over him. But, too frightened by what "Starfleet Medical would do to him" if they knew about the retained Trill and Vulcan memories, Tom had chosen to suffer in silence, slowly burying more and more of the "real improved Tom" behind a safe, carefree, smiling mask.

With hindsight, and the clarity of several quality meditation sessions, he recognised that his own memories of the kidnapping had all jumbled up together with the implanted alien memories of several lifetime's worth of traumatic events and pre-learned coping behaviours. And Tom, being only five when he first acquired them, did not process or grasp the nuances of the experience as well as he'd thought he had. He had lacked the maturity and ability to distinguish between all the good memories/behaviours and the unwanted bad memories/behaviours; particularly after the nightmares began to plague his sleep.

Tom was finally beginning to understand why he had become the person he had been.

To begin with he'd used the symbiont host memories to cope, careful to draw from the "former hosts' childhood memories", to maintain a safe "cover"; trying to show, if not feel, enjoyment in typical seven- year old play. Sometimes, he would succeed all too well and his old golden, sunny personality would shine through as he genuinely enjoyed an activity or event. Everyone would always seem especially relieved and excited when he spontaneously acted that way. He had deduced that smiling on the outside and acting carefree and playful was an important key to getting people off his back.

He had practised it, gradually modulating his behaviour through the use and appropriation of a handful of mask variations to meet the expectations of those around him without totally losing his own sense of self. Very carefully, he learned to hide his Vulcan-like logical thought processes, his craving for order and solitude and spiritual centeredness, and most importantly, his advanced intelligence and knowledge, particularly in the areas of tactical, engineering and science, except in those areas directly related to flying.

With time, it got easier.

In hindsight Tom recognised that his subconscious determination to never again let someone else control his destiny, combined with the 'Vulcan' portion of his personality meant that he was conflicted.

On his return, Tom's parents had coddled him, yet the recent experiences had shown him that being touched could be bad. It smothered him and drove him crazy even though the childish portion of his soul still needed to be loved and comforted; In between the kidnappers, the rescuers, and overheard medical conversations, Tom's trust in other people was almost non-existent. Needing comfort, but not trusting it. The fear of being caged, trapped or forced into someone's choices slowly cemented itself into Tom's psyche. Of paramount importance was the impetus to hide the new 'Vulcan elements' of his soul. Acting like a normal 'emotionally volatile human' was essential in order to get rid of his keepers and "stay safe." He also chose to bury the knowledge of his 'joined' persona, too concerned with the risk of accidently revealing his hidden memories to make a stand and demand the space that his soul needed to develop real trust again.

Within a year, most of his masks had been perfected. Gradually, the masks became habits, changing from "safe, assumed behaviours" to standard patterns of behaviours; the information and memories hidden and buried deep within. Eventually, his assumed persona -incorporating a subconscious ability to automatically feed any suitably modified but "necessary skill or information" from the symbiont/Vulcan memory through his persona- "adapted" to the requirements of his environment. Within two years, even the betazoid counsellors brought in to 'read him' were convinced. Of course, they said, the memories would never totally leave. But with typical childhood resilience, the memories were fading quickly, and Tom was almost back to normal.

Tom remembered how relieved Tom's parents had been at his 'normal' diagnosis. His father, already thwarted by his two eldest childrens' decision to attend a standard high school and pursue normal careers rather than going the Starfleet route, pinned all his hopes onto Tom. With a good report from Starfleet medical, Owen Paris had focused all his attention on grooming Tom for life as a Starfleet Officer.

By that time, Tom had turned nine. As Tom's father began to impose his vision onto Tom's future, he was met with subconscious passive resistance. Without conscious thought, Tom started making even more average grades in most of his classes, continuing to only do better in the classes that would help with his "flying". Flying was his escape. Tom already had natural talent before the kidnapping, but afterwards, the extra knowledge imparted into his memory cells from the symbiont's first host, an engineer, and its seventh host, a civilian pilot, caused his skills to become even more honed, and truly "gifted."

Tom's father - seeing the vision of his "gifted child" making captain by thirty slipping away - increased the pressure.

While Tom now saw the downward spiral, his life had taken with new eyes, recognising the flaws and holes in his childish understanding that had brought him to that place, he realised that nothing concrete had changed. At this point in time Starfleet still knew nothing about Trill symbiosis. Once again, he was on his own.

And he still had Curzon Dax to deal with.

He sighed.