The Tenth Voice -
The Journal of Orzal Dax.

James and I arrived at our moon outpost this morning, where we’ll be staying for the next couple of days. My visit is purely educational, while James has actual work to get through, though I’m helping wherever I can. The landscape up here is stark and desolate, but the view of Docosie III hanging in the sky is nothing short of spectacular. It’s the kind of sight that makes you pause without meaning to. Inside, the outpost feels noticeably different from our orbital platform. It’s a slightly newer installation, and the change in design trends is obvious. Cleaner lines, updated materials,  and a subtly more modern aesthetic. Despite its remote location, the outpost is well‑equipped. A couple of holosuites give the team plenty of ways to unwind, whether that’s running simulations, relaxing, or just escaping the monotony of lunar dust and silence. The long‑range sensor array is the real marvel here. From this vantage point, the colony can monitor activity up to fifteen light‑years beyo...

I’ve been mulling over what to give Ranih as a wedding gift. She’s never been one for material things, but she has a deep appreciation for anything crafted by hand. That thought led me to one of Docosie III’s best potters. I’ve commissioned a vase, something unique, something with the quiet beauty she loves. Ranih often returns from the wild meadows with freshly cut flowers, and I can already picture them arranged in a piece made just for her. The potter, Nana Griaan, will sketch a few designs for me to choose from later this week. She’s confident the finished vase will be ready before the wedding next month. I think Ranih will be delighted. She’s been curious about pottery throwing recently, and the timing feels perfect. While searching around, I found a place in Scotland, not far from where we’re staying for our honeymoon,  that offers pottery demonstrations where you can make something, have it fired, and take it home. I’ve already booked it. I think it’ll be a lovely experience...

What an evening. We’ve just finished dinner with both sets of parents, and over dessert we finally learned what they’d all been up to while Ranih and I were at work. Let’s just say… they were far more productive than we ever asked them to be. Ranih had predicted it perfectly: our mothers teamed up the moment we left the house. According to them, they “just did a little tidying,” which of course translates to a full‑scale, military‑precision sweep of every room. Not that the place needed it, at least not by our standards, but clearly we fall short of the elite maternal benchmark.   For the record, we live by a very old saying: “A tidy home is a sign of a boring life.” We’re tidy enough to function, but not so tidy that we spend our free time alphabetising spice racks. Our mothers, however, operate on a different philosophical plane entirely. Meanwhile, our fathers formed their own alliance. They spent the morning in the back garden, apparently unable to resist the urge to “stra...

Sadly, Ranih, James, Jean, and I are all back at work this week. Our leave for the wedding and honeymoon doesn’t begin until next week. This means that both sets of parents are essentially unsupervised during working hours. Our mothers will be just fine. It’s our fathers that Ranih and I are more concerned about. Who knows what those two might get up to on Docosie. Our mothers have already said they can only keep tabs on them when they themselves aren’t busy with their own plans. James has his hands full this week with updates and maintenance schedules for most of the colony’s systems, both planet-side and on the Orbital Platform. It’s an end‑of‑month process. As for me, I’m working on the general administrative side of day‑to‑day colony business, as well as the feasibility study for potential colony expansion. We’ve arranged a meeting with the colony council two weeks after Ranih and I return from our honeymoon as newlyweds. Ideally, I’d like to complete as much of the study as possib...

We took a shuttle out to the eastern coast today. That's me, Ranih, both sets of parents, and James and Jean. It’s about 500km from the colony, but there’s a purpose‑built coastal retreat there so residents can visit without accidentally being eaten, stung, dissolved, or otherwise inconvenienced by the local wildlife. Always reassuring. The moment we arrived, the four of us, my father, my future father‑in‑law, James, and me, hired a small boat and a local guide for a fishing trip. The guide is essential, mostly because there are a few species in these waters that look like they were designed by someone who thought “shark” was too subtle. If we accidentally hook one, we’ll need someone who knows which end is safe to point at the sky. With any luck, we’ll catch something edible,  ideally something that doesn’t fight back, glow ominously, or require a hazard permit to cook. While we head out for our grand masculine adventure (four men and a boat, what could possibly go wrong), the lad...

What a day. We’re sitting in James and Jean’s back garden, letting the late‑afternoon warmth settle around us after an amazing BBQ they put together as a welcome for our parents’ arrival on Docosie III. It still feels a little surreal having both families here at the same time but in the best possible way. Once everyone had unpacked, we took them on a tour of the colony. There was something quietly satisfying about showing them the places that have become part of our daily rhythm. With two spare rooms at home, hosting them is easy, and the house feels fuller in a way that’s comforting rather than chaotic. I get on incredibly well with Ranih’s parents. Her mother, Olla, is an absolute delight. Warm, quick‑witted, and effortlessly kind. Her father, Cerzel, is every bit the gentleman: polite, thoughtful, and with a dry humour that sneaks up on you. Watching them interact with my parents has been a joy. At one point, the four of them wandered off to a quieter corner of the garden with ...

One of the things I enjoy about living on Docosie III is its diversity. It’s so vibrant and so representative of the Federation. A wide variety of cultural events regularly take place here, ranging from festivals to art, music, and theatre. Next week, we’re in for a real treat. We’ll be getting a visit from a travelling ballet and operatic group called The Echoes‑in‑Motion Ensemble. They’ll be giving the colony what has been described as a truly magical adaptation of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s The Magic Flute. I’ve heard the music and the arias many times over my nine lifetimes, but I’ve only ever seen it performed live once, as Emony, when I was on Earth to judge a gymnastics competition at the University of Mississippi. It was a date with Leonard McCoy. The Ensemble will be performing in the main auditorium of our central complex. Ranih, James, Jean, and I have already secured our tickets. I found myself wondering how Mozart might react if he knew his opera was still being performed a...

Over lunch on the orbital platform today, I casually asked James how his Best Man’s speech was coming along. His face went pale in an instant. With the recent trip and all the essential work happening on the platform, he’d completely forgotten he was supposed to write one. I did feel a little bad watching him spiral into flustered panic, but I’ll admit, it was also slightly entertaining. And reassuring. Apparently I’m not the only one feeling the nerves as the big day approaches. Still, I’m sure he’ll be brilliant when the moment comes. He’s always been good at public speaking and presentations, especially when Starfleet officers visit the station. He has that calm, confident presence that audiences latch onto. What I am wondering is how many of my mother’s embarrassing childhood stories he’s managed to collect… and whether I’m about to be thoroughly roasted. Even if I am, it won’t matter. I’ll just be grateful to have James and Jean there with us. Image from unsplash by Em...

It’s been a quieter day than usual. For a change of pace, I worked in our ground‑based office on the upper levels of the central complex. From the messhall windows, the view is incredible. You can see the entire southern stretch of the colony, all the way to the distant mountains nearly 300 kilometres beyond our southern border. It’s the kind of sight that makes you pause, even on an ordinary workday. Our parents, both Ranih’s and mine, will be arriving at the end of the week. They’ll stay through the wedding next month and head back to Trill once we’ve left for our honeymoon. Wedding preparations are more or less complete. You’d think that after nine lifetimes, seven marriages, five as the bride and two as the groom, I’d be immune to pre‑wedding jitters. But no. It turns out even centuries of experience don’t grant immunity. I know, fully and deeply, that marrying Ranih is right. Our life together is already wonderful, and it will only continue to grow. The jitters are just background...

I’ve scheduled a meeting with the Docosie Council for two weeks from now, which should give my team and me ample time to review the full set of proposals for the colony’s potential expansion. There’s a great deal to examine, and I want us to arrive at that meeting with a clear understanding of the options, the implications, and the work required for each path forward. During a discussion with my colleague Maria this morning, she raised an alternative worth considering: establishing a satellite colony on another continent rather than expanding the existing settlement. It’s an intriguing idea, one that could open new opportunities for development and reduce pressure on our current site, but it also comes with its own logistical, environmental, and administrative challenges. A secondary colony would require entirely new infrastructure, transport links, and support systems, not to mention a fresh environmental impact assessment for an untouched region of Docosie III. I intend to bring Mari...

We’ve begun the preliminary phase of assessing whether the colony can be expanded beyond its current boundaries. It’s early days yet, but the discussions are already proving both complex and fascinating. I wasn’t involved in the original feasibility study conducted before the first foundations were laid on the surface of Docosie III, so I’ve been relying heavily on those archival files as a reference point. They’re thorough, but the colony has grown and changed significantly since then, which means much of the work ahead involves interpreting those findings through the lens of our present‑day needs. There are, of course, a multitude of factors to consider when expanding any settlement, let alone one on a developing world. Even the smallest projects, such as the construction of a single new building, require careful planning. Expanding the colony by an estimated thirty percent around its current perimeter is an undertaking on an entirely different scale. New homes, new infrastructure, n...

Last night we went to a small music gathering,  just four colonists with a guitar, a harmonica, and a handful of other instruments, offering a recital of Earth folk music that spanned centuries. Simple, intimate, and unexpectedly grounding. There’s something about old melodies that lingers long after the last note fades. And now, in contrast, today has unfolded in pure tranquillity. Blue sky, white clouds drifting lazily by, and sunshine warm enough to settle into your bones. Ranih and I have spent most of the day out in the back garden, coffee in hand, letting the light gently undo whatever knots the week tried to tie into us. Whenever I’m outside like that, my mind tends to wander, not just through my own memories, but through those of Ezri, Jadzia, Curzon… echoes of lives that still colour the edges of my thoughts. It’s a quiet chorus, never intrusive, just present. Moments like this bring into focus how different my life is now compared to any of my previous hosts, and how righ...

Tidying my office on the orbital platform turned out to be far less of an ordeal than I’d imagined. A couple of hours was all it took to bring everything back from the brink of disorganisation. Once I finished, I logged in to check a few items in preparation for next week. That’s when I received a surprise, and a genuinely lovely one. A message from Bahjaar Vox. He wrote to say he appreciated my help, and that he’s settling in well aboard the Serenity. He added that if they’re ever close by, he’ll do his best to come visit. There’s something deeply rewarding about helping someone and then seeing the results unfold in their life. Vox and Dax first knew each other under terrible circumstances, yet time has a remarkable way of softening what once felt immovable. Now, we’re good friends. Proof, perhaps, that healing doesn’t always announce itself, it just quietly happens, one step at a time.

The working week has come to an end, not that I was present for most of it, having spent the better part of it on Trill with James. Tomorrow I’ll be up on the orbital platform, tucked away in my office. Not for work, mind you, but simply to restore some order. It isn’t a disaster zone yet, but it’s definitely hovering on the edge of becoming one. Thankfully, Ranih never ventures into my office. She’s impeccably tidy, and the current state of things would almost certainly give her a nervous twitch. As for the rest of the weekend, I have no firm plans. But I’ve lived long enough to know that something always has a way of presenting itself. Image by Brett Jordan - Unsplash.com

Back in my office on the orbital platform, surrounded by what I like to call my infinity view. While James was being shown around the Caves of Mak’ala, and after my own brief dip in the central pool, I had the rare pleasure of sharing tea with Bunaal Kur, one of the oldest and most widely respected Guardians. He joined the order at eighteen, and he’ll turn 150 next month. It wasn’t our first meeting. He was there when Ezri underwent the ritual, and again during Jadzia’s visit, when the memory block surrounding Joran Belar forced everything into the open. Through all of it, Bunaal was steady, perceptive, and quietly reassuring in that way only the long-lived can manage. He retired a few months ago, but he wanted to see Dax once more. A final visit, as he put it.   He’s a good man.

We’re home. I’m stretched out in the back garden with Ranih, letting the evening settle around us after a barbecue at James and Jean’s. He’d arranged it before we’d even finished docking at the orbital platform, we were barely through the hatch at 17:30 CST when the invitation came through. We reached their place around 19:00. I offered to help, naturally, but James waved me toward a chair and insisted I relax while he worked his usual magic at the grill. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest that he and my father got along so well back on my Homeworld, especially around a barbecue. There were even a few playful tussles over who got to turn the meat, each trying to claim the tongs like it was a matter of ancestral pride. All jokes aside, they’re both excellent with a grill, and I’ve never once had reason to complain.

We spent about ninety minutes on the DS9 promenade, wandering its familiar curves while I pointed out the differences, not just from my own memories, but from the perspectives of both Jadzia and Ezri. It’s strange how a place can feel unchanged at first glance, yet completely different once you start looking closely. There have been plenty of alterations since my last visit. A few small tweaks from just a couple of months ago… and then the larger, more sweeping changes since the days when I was there as Captain Ezri Dax, with the Aventine docked just outside. Those memories sit in the walls, in the lighting, in the hum of the station itself. The sights and sounds bring back a mix of emotions , some warm, some sharp. That’s life, though. It’s never all sunshine and rainbows; there are shadows too, and they shape us just as much as the brighter moments. It’s good to look back, to acknowledge where we’ve been. But it’s just as important not to linger too long. Time keeps moving, and so do...

As I write this entry, we’re aboard the transport, cruising at warp as we make our way back to Docosie, with a few scheduled stops along the route. The day began quietly and pleasantly: a leisurely breakfast out in the garden, the kind of slow morning that makes you forget you have a departure looming. Most of the late morning was spent packing, less glamorous but necessary, readying ourselves for the journey home. James has genuinely enjoyed his time on my homeworld. He’s been gracious, curious, and, much to my relief, has so far refrained from deploying any of my mother’s more embarrassing childhood stories. I’m not naïve enough to assume they’re forgotten; more likely, he’s storing them away like carefully chosen ammunition, to be used at a moment of maximum tactical advantage. Still, I can’t picture him being vindictive. Mischievous, yes. Vindictive, no. For the past hour, he’s been absorbed in his padd, refining ideas for the Trill Archaeological Commission and their preservation ...

We spent the afternoon at my parents’ home, enjoying the usual mix of familiar comforts and gentle chaos. When dinner rolled around, a few of my father’s colleagues joined us, and that’s when the evening took an unexpected turn. Two of them work for the Trill Archaeological Commission (TAC), the people responsible for safeguarding our ancient sites, including the ever‑mysterious Furez. Over the meal they began discussing some of the preservation challenges they’re currently facing. Naturally, James, being the technical wizard he is, couldn’t resist offering a few ideas. Within minutes he had their full attention. By the time dessert arrived, they were practically leaning over the table, asking follow‑up questions and sketching possibilities on napkins. To skip straight to the grand finale: they’ve asked for James’s assistance with their preservation work. Which means that once Ranih and I return from our honeymoon, the three of us will be heading to Furez with full TAC support. Absolut...

Another day of exploration for James. We caught an early shuttle to the capital, Leran Manev, and checked into one of the tallest buildings in the city. The view from our window alone feels like a reward, the whole skyline unfolding beneath us. From the observation lounge, several floors higher, the panorama becomes even more breathtaking. In the far distance you can just make out the ancient ruins of Furez, hazy but unmistakable. It’s a shame we won’t be able to visit them this time; the layers of clearance required take months to arrange. We spent most of the day wandering through the heart of the capital. James managed to pull me into every museum we passed. I have to admit, I ended up learning things about my own world that I’d either forgotten… or never knew in the first place. Tomorrow we head back to my family home for the afternoon and stay overnight before catching our transport back to Docosie the following day. Image of the ruins by Raph Howald - Unsplash. 

It’s been quite a day. James and I spent the morning, starting at 07:00, at the Caves of Mak’ala. The Guardians were gracious enough to give him a guided tour, though naturally they kept the restricted chambers to themselves. Then came my ceremonial dip into the main pool. Before stepping down into the milky water, I had to change into the ceremonial robes: a fitted white top with short sleeves and long trousers, simple but unmistakably traditional. The moment I entered the pool, the young symbionts surrounded me. They were still decades away from maturity, Trill symbionts don’t reach that point until they’re a century old, but even in their youth, their presence is unmistakable. Considering they live for around 650 years, this early stage is only a brief chapter in their long existence. James was utterly transfixed. The communication between my symbiont and the young ones manifested as white currents of energy, like lightning threading through the water.  It’s always a strange, gr...

My mother, father, James, and I are out in the back garden at my family home. It’s a beautiful day, blue sky, 23°C, and a light breeze. Both my parents are avid gardeners. My mother focuses on the vegetables, orchard, and herbs and spices, whereas my father enjoys his ornamental flower beds, trees, and flowering bushes. His pride and joy is one particular bush called Cho Vlyjo, roughly translated as “The Bride” due to its delicate white flowers, which have been used in decorating Trill weddings for centuries. Cho Vlyjo can be extremely particular about where it grows. There are multiple factors that must be taken into account for it to flourish and flower, and in this case, my father has done well, as this one has bloomed in abundance for sixteen years.

We’ve arrived. The transport touched down about half an hour ago, and now we’re in the main terminal building in the capital, waiting for the shuttle that’ll take us out to the town where my parents live. It’s surprisingly lively here today. This isn’t the primary transport hub on Trill, but it’s still one of the major ones, and you can tell. Travellers from all over the Federation pass through, and if you ever want a snapshot of the sheer diversity of visitors to this world, a hub like this is the perfect place to stand and watch. I’m really looking forward to getting home. I might be biased, but I still think my family home is one of the more stylish ones in the area. I have a feeling James will be impressed. Image by Felix on Unsplash.com.

We arrive tomorrow. It will be good to be home, even if only for a few days. I was telling James a bit more about Trill on the journey, and two things came up that he hadn’t known. The first is gravity. Trill sits at about 0.56g—much lower than both Earth’s 1g and Docosie III’s 0.94g. It means we’re both going to feel it: I’ve grown used to Docosie’s higher pull, and James, of course, is originally from Earth. The second is the length of the day. A Trill day runs 26.6 hours, which is 2.6 hours longer than Earth’s and 1.4 hours longer than Docosie III’s. He asked me not to tell him much more so he can experience the rest for himself. Images from https://memory-beta.fandom.com/wiki/Trill_(planet)

We’re finally on our way to Trill. The transport slipped out of Docosie III’s orbit just over an hour ago, and now we’re cruising at warp toward my homeworld. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back. I sent a quick message ahead, and my parents are over the moon. My sister’s still off‑world, so James won’t get the chance to meet her this trip, but there will be other visits. Since my family home is only a short shuttle ride from the Caves of Mak’ala, my mother has already arranged everything: James will take the guest room, and I’ll be back in my old room, which feels strangely comforting. At the moment, James has gone off to—his words, “raid the galley.” I just hope he doesn’t overdo it.

James and I are catching a transport to Trill tomorrow, and we’ll be there for seven days. The first three will be spent at the Caves of Mak’ala, which I’m especially excited about. James will get a guided tour and the chance to watch my immersive ceremony. I’ll be wearing the traditional robes and stepping into the main pool, allowing my Symbiont to connect with the others. It’s essentially a telepathic catch‑up across lifetimes, and I think he’ll find it fascinating to witness. After our time in the caves, we’ll head to the capital. We’re staying in one of the tallest buildings so James can enjoy an incredible view of the city. I couldn’t secure permission for us to visit the ancient city of Furez, but we’ll still be able to see it from where we’re staying—just on the horizon, which is magical in its own way. I have a feeling James is going to love this trip.

Ranih is really embracing her crafting interests, but knitting socks is most definitely her forté. We’re at a local café enjoying a beverage and, without fail, she’s knitting yet another pair. The colours on this pair truly pop. I’m enjoying an Espresso Con Panna, a drink our esteemed Governor Maura introduced me to. It’s essentially a single, or in this case double, shot of espresso topped with whipped cream. As Maura described it: sweet and shocking.

I’ve been told that in a couple of weeks, after James and I return from our trip to Trill, a Starfleet engineering team will be visiting the orbital platform. They’re coming to survey a section of the station that currently sits unused, with the intention of possibly taking it over. On the surface, it sounds perfectly routine. So where’s the complication, you ask? Well… one of the officers on that team is a talented Lieutenant Junior Grade named Bezree Kahn. Yes, that Kahn. The current host of the Kahn symbiont, whose previous host was Lenara. A bit of history for context: - In 2285, the Kahn symbiont was joined to Nilani, who was married to Torias Dax. Torias died in a shuttle accident, leaving Nilani devastated.   - Later, in 2373, Lenara Kahn visited Deep Space Nine. The Kahn symbiont and Jadzia Dax briefly considered reassociation, but doing so would have risked the symbiont’s expulsion from Trill society. Jadzia was willing to take that risk; Lenara ultimately chose to wa...

I was hoping to get another jaunt in the Kestrel this morning but James decided, after going over the telemetry from her inaugural flight, to have another look at her impulse and RCS thrusters to see if he can't improve them, even if it's a mere fraction more.  So, instead of a thrilling ride, I'm sat with a cappuccino in the central complex, with Ranih, whilst James is having way too much fun in the hanger on our orbital station. I hope he does improve her, even though, to me she is perfection. 

What a day. James and I are kicked back in his garden with cold beers, still riding the high from the Kestrel’s first test flight—and what a flight it was. The Kestrel‑class fighter was already a remarkably agile craft when it debuted in the late 24th century, but with the upgraded RCS thrusters, impulse engines, warp drive, and inertial dampeners, she’s become something else entirely. She handles like she’s reading your thoughts. Absolutely spectacular. I haven’t had this much fun at a helm since the day Ezri took control of the Aventine and threaded us through that asteroid field. Today had that same electric edge—the kind that reminds you why you fell in love with flying in the first place. James hasn’t stopped grinning since we touched down. Honestly, neither have I. She’s not fully armed yet—just the phaser strips for now. The forward and aft torpedo launchers still need attention, and the phaser pulse cannons are a work in progress. But even unarmed, she was a thrill. Today was p...

We’ve officially completed the restoration of the Kestrel fighter, and she’s now resting proudly in the main hangar of our orbital platform. Every system is powered up, every panel polished, and she’s humming with that quiet, coiled energy that only a ship waiting to stretch her wings can have.   She’ll be taking to the void for her first test flight tomorrow morning—a moment we’ve been working toward for far too long. James is excited, I’m excited, and she looks ready to remind the stars what she can do. The plan is to put her impulse engines through their paces first, giving her a proper sprint around the Docosie system to make sure every subsystem responds the way it should. Once she’s proven herself at sublight, we’ll open her up and test the warp drive with a sustained, one‑hour run at warp 8. If she handles that with grace, we’ll know the restoration was worth every late night in the hangar. Image by https://www.artstation.com/calamity_si

My morning began the same way most workdays do—steady, predictable, nothing out of the ordinary. But I couldn’t shake that strange intuition, the quiet nudge that something was coming. No hint of what or when, just that familiar hum beneath the surface. And sure enough, just after lunch, it arrived. I was over at the Central Complex, wandering through one of the shuttle ports, when I saw her—my sister. We’ve always gotten along reasonably well, though things shifted a bit after I joined with Dax. That’s not unusual for joined Trill, but it does mean our dynamic has its quirks. Kaneel had decided, entirely of her own accord, to bring me a few things from home rather than sending them by cargo ship. I’ll admit it: I assumed she had an ulterior motive. She usually does. But this time, she genuinely just wanted to deliver the items herself and see where I live. We spent a lovely bit of time together before she caught her next transport. She also informed me—rather gleefully—that she’ll be ...