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Right from the start, Dax was an adventurer. It swam deeper than any of its friends dared, charted underwater caverns previously unknown, and filled the pools of Trill with such joy for life it was almost electric. There were more symbionts in those days, back when few Trill ventured off-world, and Dax loved them all. Ever hungry for new experiences, it submitted itself for joining the very day it matured, desperate to explore beyond its watery home. Dax knew nothing of what was in store, and that was much of the appeal. Centuries to experience… unimaginable, for one so young.

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Lela had always been a careful woman. She was a good mother, a good legislator, a good wife, but in a comfortable sort of way. Before joining, she had played it safe, conscious of stepping on toes, rising above her station. When Dax’s youthful exuberance met her lived experience, it rushed through her in mountaineering, in late nights at the office, in shouting matches with colleagues. Her friends and family came to know her as a force of nature – perhaps it was fated that nature would take her in the end. Mountainside, frayed rope, fatal slip…! But Dax lived on.

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Tobin had never been fond of death. There isn’t a lot of it in engineering – even when machines die, their parts are saved and reused, and without a soul a robot can’t tell how many corpses it’s made of. Usually, after a sudden death, a symbiont returns to the pools to recover, but Dax was eager for more life on dry land. Perhaps Tobin would have been less anxious without the memory of falling off a cliff face. But would Iloja, the poet, have found him so fascinating? As shaking hands caressed shining scales, Tobin knew it was worth it.

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One life below water. Two more on dry land. It was only fitting that Emony should take to the stars. The Symbiosis Commission weren’t thrilled at the thought – centuries of possibility would be lost if Dax perished in some alien land – but she was gone before they could stop her. Dax brought with it no gymnastic experience, yet somehow its past lives made improving herself easier. Time slowed down as she flew through the air, four thought patterns filling the moment. No longer afraid of death, Emony Dax lusted for life, with high jumps, high emotions, and high rewards.

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Audrid had always had big plans for herself, and joined with Dax after becoming head of the Symbiosis Commission in the hopes that this inside knowledge would enable her to become a true expert in her field. It did, but most interestingly, Dax’s unending curiosity taught Audrid to slow down, to notice the little things in life. Shady glens, cool breezes, cold streams – she could spend hours alone in such places, watching the world go by. When her youngest daughter took ill, and later when the two became estranged, Audrid was grateful for the patience that comes after so many lives.

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You would think, after five full lifetimes, that life would feel blissfully long. Logically, Torias knew this was true, knew from Dax’s experience that there was plenty of time to reach every goal he set. But knowing was different from feeling, and Torias felt that life was short. Perhaps he knew from the start that he wasn’t destined for longevity. Perhaps that was part of why he applied for joining in the first place. Or perhaps… was that Dax’s influence? Had the curiosity of the symbiont, which killed Lela all those generations ago, sent Torias Dax to an early grave?

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Joran had always been volatile, in a cold sort of way. Those who had known him were shaken, though not exactly surprised, to hear of the crimes he committed. The doctors blamed the murders on Joran alone, claiming incomplete joining, assuming that Joran had never truly become Joran Dax. Dax was not so certain. Like Audrid’s death once haunted Tobin, the symbiont’s insecurities around Torias’s death can’t have been easy for Joran to cope with. If Dax considered itself a murderer, what did that make Joran Dax? Did a few more deaths make such a difference?

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Curzon Dax! Lover! Mentor! Warrior! Most Klingon-like Trill to ever have lived! Where Joran and Tobin were haunted by the deaths Dax experienced, Curzon learned to seek out new perspectives, viewing life as a battle with impossible odds. It was full, it was glorious, it was… difficult at times, but if you made it to the end, the spoils were magnificent. Life, after all, was nothing but a series of little deaths. As the years went by, and Curzon’s list of past lovers grew longer than his future ones, he and Dax alike readied themselves to greet the next battle with open arms

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Jadzia had expected Dax to open her eyes to new scientific pursuits, and she planned to provide the next host with a wealth of knowledge spanning years of research and countless degrees. She did not expect to find herself up late playing Tongo, sparring Klingons in the holosuite, befriending an augment and marrying a Klingon. Dax had lived too many lives to let itself rot inside a lab - life was long, new frontiers were being reached every day, and it was all so incredibly exciting! Dax loved being Jadzia. Dax would miss being Jadzia. Through Dax, in a sense, Jadzia lived on.

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For all Dax had enjoyed its brief time as Jadzia, they both knew the symbiont was the priority. So, when Verad took command of DS9 and forced its doctor to give him the symbiont, Dax put up no fight. It felt strange about that later. It had all made sense at the time – Jadzia would live on through Dax, so there was no guilt in letting her die and becoming this stranger for a while. Nothing was permanent. Seeing Jadzia through Verad’s eyes, however… had it really ever been that frightened young woman? Was it able to go back?

Did it want to?

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Dax did not remember Yedrin, except through Jadzia’s eyes. Dax had never been Yedrin, except that it had. Yedrin had never truly existed, being, as he was, a creature from an alternate present, an alternate past. On paper, Jadzia knew they had nothing to feel guilty about – no one had died, they’d just prevented a tragic line of descendants from being born. But when Yedrin spoke, she had heard Curzon. Joran. Bizarrely, herself. At least she had met him. At least he would be remembered. No one is truly dead if they are remembered, right?

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Dax woke up, and it was Tobin. No, Jadzia. No, Emony. Torias. Ezri! Ezri Ezri Ezri (Tigan) Dax. It was hard to remember, after so many lives, after so little training. Eventually, when the war was over and the station’s inhabitants (as changed as she was) relatively sane, she would return to Trill, undergoing the initiate training she had once sworn never to take. In the meantime, it was hard not to feel like she was living Jadzia’s life, filling the space that confident presence had left behind. But then, wasn’t Jadzia living Curzon’s life? Hadn’t they both stolen Yedrin’s and Verad’s? Weren’t they all living Dax’s?

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The pools of Trill were quieter now, far quieter than Dax remembered. So many of its siblings were off in the stars, seeking adventure where they once had sought zen. It might have been lonely, if it weren’t for the eleven-plus-one lives Dax had lived (more if you count the mirror universe, but Dax chose to ignore that). One day, after a few cycles of mating, it would seek a new host again, for Dax cannot stay still for long. But all those lives lost, so many of them long before their time… Dax had much to dwell on. Much to remember… much to forget.