[Ten Forward] for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dreams_dont_die
Even on a ship as big as Enterprise, with as many people as it held, there were only so many places to find one of his fellow transplants, since they were prevented from accessing certain parts of the ship. He didn't bother asking the computer where Captain Hunt was, it wouldn't take long to search him out, and Julian did enjoy wandering around without too much threat of everything going pear-shaped.
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Maybe he'll go to the lounge and watch the stars go past. Maybe he'll ask the computer for some more information about what he is and isn't allowed to access.
He hasn't decided yet.
As it is, he's headed down the corridor just outside one of the lifts (which, he'd have to admit, are rather more convenient ways of getting quickly around the ship than they have on Andromeda) when he sees a man he's met before approaching.
"Doctor Bashir."
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"I hope I wouldn't be interrupting any plans if I asked for a chat? I believe I promised you a bit of a history lesson. I could show you the holodecks in the bargain, they're one of the better forms of entertainment on the ship."
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Dylan says it without any trace of annoyance; he's never really minded that. Though it would be nice to occasionally get a captain or sir that didn't sound sarcastic, he has always preferred just plain 'Dylan' to 'Captain Hunt'.
Besides, there's really no point when he is a few thousand years and another universe away from his ship. That puts even more distance between him and his rank than three hundred years in a black hole did.
He smiles.
"I am at your disposal, Doctor. Please."
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"This way, then. I'm curious, I admit, do you have anything like holodecks on your ship?" They were a common enough technology here, most species had some sort of way to create them. But he wasn't sure if that applied everywhere.
Julian turns back to the turbolift, waiting for Dylan to board before calling out the deck. "Deck 10."
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He might miss the High Guard, but he also appreciates that there are few places and circumstances where it's really necessary to insist on the formality of a title, and this is not one of them.
He nods.
"A little like it. Our holographic technology's pretty sophisticated. We use it for simulations, training, recreation, and as a way to talk to the ship's artificial intelligence." He smiles. "Though we don't have anything quite like your holodeck, from what I've heard. Our holograph technology is a little more ... widespread."
He waves a hand as they step into the lift.
"This, though, I like. There's nothing quite like this on the Andromeda. I could probably get used to not having to climb ladders to climb between the decks."
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"We do have more extensive holographic technology even just eight years from now. They were even considering using me as a model for a long-term medical hologram, that could serve as a doctor on certain missions, and there's Emergency Medical Holograms as well."
Julian is something of a motormouth, if Dylan hadn't noticed that yet.
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"A lot bigger than this one, as far as I can tell. The Andromeda's a Commonwealth ship of the line with a crew complement of over 4, 000."
It's taken him a long time to get used to how few people there are on his ship now. And for all the things that might be strange to him about the Enterprise, it is good to be on a fully-crewed ship again.
He's had to spend a lot of time listening to Andromeda complaining about the things she can't do with only a tiny fraction of her complement.
"Ours are kind of the other way around. We mostly use lifts for moving cargo and ladders for quick access between the decks." He chuckles. "You get good at running. And ladders."
He's not going to forget the time he'd had to dash to the slipstream core to deal with what he was sure was a reactor problem only to be greeted by his crew with a birthday cake any time soon.
He's not sure he's ever run so fast.
"We use holograms for just about everything. I admit, I'm curious to see how your holodecks work. It sounds most like some of the simulators we have on board the Andromeda."
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Julian is used to the crowds and ever-changing faces of Deep Space 9--alternately, the Defiant and its small crew, only about 50, where everyone needs to be doing their job all the time. Even sleeping, they were on call. But it was also somewhat odd for him to be surrounded by so many Starfleet officers. DS9 had the Bajoran Militia and Starfleet working in concert. He sort of misses their rust-red and beige uniforms.
Julian tosses a glance and an amused grin over his shoulder when they stop at the holodeck door. "Well, I hope they impress. We may be only in the 24th century, but we do have some tricks up our sleeves at least."
Turning back to the door, he addresses the computer.
"Computer, run program Bashir 175, please."
There's a chirrup of acknowledgement, then the computer responds that they can now enter the holodeck, and the doors swish open obligingly. Julian leads the way in--he's started a holographic recreation of Starfleet Academy, students milling about and all.
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"I could give you the specs if you really want them. But the Andromeda's a very different design to this. It's a Glorious Heritage Class heavy cruiser, designed for war, not for passengers. I think the most we've ever carried was 2,300 on top of the crew, and that's pretty much capacity. 10, 000 is a lot of people."
He knows from what he's read on the flexi Trance prepared for him that Starfleet has a far less military focus than the High Guard ever did, though at the heart, their roles seem fairly similar. Relief, exploration, protection of the interests of the Federation or the Commonwealth. The High Guard went for centuries without fighting a serious war, but they were still there to patrol, to maintain the Treaty of Antares, to fend off Magog attacks and protect the borders of the Commonwealth from its enemies.
And that was the role of the Andromeda Ascendant and her sisters before the fall. They were the ships that held the line against the dark.
There's still pride in that, even now.
Julian brings them to a halt outside a door and Dylan waits, curious, as he addresses the computer. It's not so very different to asking Andromeda to run a simulation or play some data files, and he's not sure what to expect when they step through into the holodeck.
It is impressive technology. It's immersive, the whole room around them turned into another place. Dylan watches the people moving around them for a moment, noting the uniforms, their ages, the way they move, and drawing a parallel from his own experience.
From somewhere he'd been not so very long ago, in fact. Bigger, busier, yes, but not unlike the military academy on Mobius where he'd taken Molly to begin her training for his new High Guard.
"What are we looking at here? Your version of a military academy?"
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"The holodeck uses replicator technology as well as holographic. It's designed to be as immersive as possible." Julian gestures for Dylan to follow with a wave and a smile, heading for where he knows his favorite coffeeshop from his student years to be.
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"Earth. I'm hearing a lot about Earth lately."
Even more than usual, and with Harper on his crew, that's saying something. Not that Harper talks about what life was like on Earth (though given what it's become since the Fall, that's probably not surprising), but he references its history and culture constantly, to the frequent confusion of his captain who isn't even from the same galaxy as Earth.
Dylan follows after Julian at the wave, but he's not paying as much attention to Julian as he should be, too busy looking at the simulation of Earth all around them.
In Dylan's time, Earth might be the homeworld of humanity, but it was just one in over a million Commonwealth member worlds, largely abandoned by its people as they spread across the three galaxies. And since the Fall, it's a shadow, a wreck, devastated by Magog and the Drago-Kazov.
Here, it's busy, bright, cheerful; he can smell the ocean, hear some sort of transports flying in the distance, squint against the light of the sun. The students are more casual, less military in their bearing than the classmates he'd seen around him every day back in his High Guard Academy days back on Tarn-Vedra, and the bits he can see of San Francisco are nothing like Vishna-Tarn, but there's a feel that's familiar.
This is where the best and brightest come to learn. To get started on their careers of service to the Federation.
And that's just like the High Guard Academy on Tarn-Vedra.
"It's certainly immersive." At that, he stops admiring the scene around them and looks back at Julian with a smile. "I like your tricks."
They walk a few more steps in an easy companionship before Dylan speaks again.
"So is this where you studied?"
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Julian smiles. "Actually, the Julian Bashir native to this timeline is still here. In the middle of medical school, at that."
Q causes paradoxes just by existing, it seems.
Just off-campus there's a small hole in the wall coffee house--literally, 'Hole in the Wall' is it's name--and Julian leads the way inside. The interior is dim and cozy, cushioned chairs and old tables scattered around, people engaged in quiet conversation.
"Feel free to get something if you like, by the way. The simulation also utilizes the replicators, so it's real enough." Julian takes himself up on that, getting a chai tea and a scone, and there's an empty table in the back he steers them toward once Dylan is done at the counter.
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He frowns back at the medical school. So Julian is here from the future of this place, too, but not very far, it seems, because he's still quite young.
"So you're here from the future, too. Just a nearer one than mine."
It's kind of nice walking through the Starfleet Academy with Juliam, smiling at occasional students, all the time admiring the holographic technology, which is far more advanced than he'd have expected from the 24th century, even if much else he's found here has seemed primitive to him. There was something special about the High Guard Academy days, and yes, this place does remind him of it, even if it is still very different.
He'd enjoyed visiting the new High Guard Academy on Mobius, too, and not just because he'd been there with Molly.
He follows Julian into the little coffee shop, still looking around like a curious but polite tourist, his expression appraising. The fact that he can get something to eat and drink here? That's impressive.
"You weren't kidding when you said it was immersive," he says as he follows Julian up the back of the room, past a pair of obviously studying students. The coffee on the Enterprise isn't as good as Andromeda's, but it will do, and so will the fruity tart; the fruit here isn't grown by Trance in the Andromeda's hydroponics garden, but this world has different fruits to his and he's still enjoying that fact.
He'll admit to curiosity about why they're here, in this simulated version of Earth, and just what Julian is going to say, but he's also happy to let the doctor get to that in his own time, so he doesn't say anything else as he settles into a chair at the table Julian selected.
He has nowhere else to be, so he can be patient.
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Assuming he does get back.
The reason will be obvious in just a few moments once Julian's settled, the holodecks are private and there are strict rules governing just when and where and how they could be monitored. He can reliably say they'll be able to speak in private here. He's off duty, and clothed accordingly, his combadge is nowhere in sight--he can't be heard or tracked through it either by the internal sensors.
All calculated. He doesn't want to be overheard.
Tea and scone in front of him, Julian clasps his hands on the table, looking--well, for want of a better word, slightly apprehensive.
"Well. Like I said, discussion of genetic enhancement is something of a touchy subject for people from Earth. It's been illegal there since well before the Federation was founded. That's not to say it doesn't happen--that's why I was curious about your scans in Sickbay. I was seeing how they compared to mine."
Julian pauses to take a drink of his tea at that, and lets the implication sink in.
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When it comes to time travel and future knowledge, Dylan has far too much experience for anyone's comfort. He'd told Sara what happened in the future. He'd had to. Had to tell her why he had to go back instead of staying with her.
He can't regret it. She'd used that knowledge to move on (she'd needed to, he couldn't stand thinking what losing him would have done to her) and make something beautiful. Something Telemachus Rhade, his new neighbor, had taken from him.
But future knowledge had also forced him to do something he can still barely live with, even knowing what he'd saved the Known Worlds from by doing it.
Nothing short of maintaining the timeline could have made him slaughter those Nietzscheans. No matter what he held against them for the destruction of the Commonwealth.
That's a topic he'd rather not say too much about. It's a relief that the conversation moves on, that Julian, his expression uneasy, rests his hands on the table with a deliberation that suggests he's getting to the point of this meeting.
Dylan sips his coffee, watching Julian over the rim of the mug.
Then he sets it down, with careful deliberation.
Ah. Yeah. That's not a huge surprise. It was clear that Julian had some particular interest in genetic enhancement, though it wasn't clear whether the interest was academic or more ... personal.
Once Trance was involved, though, he'd come to expect there was something more there than just interest. She'd made a point of introducing Julian to him, of bringing him over to look at Dylan's scans and explaining his physiology to him.
That could have just been being a good medic, but he hadn't thought so at the time.
"I thought that was more than just academic interest. So how did they compare?"
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Now that's out in the air, Julian's manner does seem a bit easier. Not because he's among peers, but because he doesn't have to play at being normal. Because he can talk about this.
"But since all that hasn't happened yet, I'm by necessity not sharing information about my genetics with Captain Picard. At any rate, the ban isn't in place because of people like me."
Julian is well studied on the subject. He'd couched it in academic interest for anyone that asked, but Dylan was right in assuming it was rather more personal.
"After I found out about that particular truth, I did quite a lot of research on the history of genetic research on Earth and in how that related to current Federation policy. In short, the ban is in place because of a...group of genetically modified humans. Four hundred years ago, there were a series of devestating conflicts on Earth, directly caused by these people, or because of them. We call them the Eugenics Wars, and historians estimate over thirty million people died. We don't know, exactly--there are no exact records from the time, due to the widespread destruction.
The ban, though, didn't start until after World War 3. Part of that conflict was also caused by belief in eugenics...and the death toll was over six hundred million."
It's a staggering, terrifying number in his estimation. If it had continued for even a little longer, he couldn't be sure that humanity would even still exist.
"There have been further incidents, three and two hundred years ago, with surviving Augments, that haven't exactly improved the perception of genetic engineering since."
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"I appreciate you telling me." He's used to being greeted with more suspicion than Julian's shown him, and it's nice for someone to actually trust him without trying to double-cross and bluff him. "I can't pretend I like the idea of hiding what I am, but it's got to be even harder for you."
This is, after all, Julian's world. If not his time. And in Dylan's world, the only comments he gets about his genetic background are from Nietzscheans refusing to believe he's not part Nietzschean just because he can kick their asses.
Nobody looked twice at a Heavy Worlder in the High Guard.
Julian's not just here for his confession, though; he's good on the promised history of genetic enhancement in this world that he'd offered to give in a less public setting when they met in medbay. And the history lesson makes more sense understanding how and why Julian knows all of this.
Dylan considers himself fairly open minded. Not judgmental. Willing to hear a thing out before he comes to any conclusions. But even so, his expression darkens as he listens to Julian, his mouth tightening and a hint of a frown creasing the middle of his brow.
"And because of that, they've banned genetic engineering."
Different timeline. Different history. Maybe even different reasons. But some of that sounds far too familiar for comfort.
A devastating conflict with millions of casualties caused by genetically enhanced believers in eugenics?
Yeah. That hits a little close to home to a man who lost everything because of the Nietzschean Uprising. And ... he can see why this world reacted in that way.
"Sounds like they've never had much reason to think kindly of it."
Hell. He's had his moments when it comes to Nietzscheans. He's probably killed more Nietzscheans than any other man around, though it wasn't by choice. Or out of hatred, whatever his personal feelings sometimes are.
"How much did Trance tell you about me and the history of our world?"
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Julian looks at the table. He's not exactly sure how much Dylan would put together about his past--if he'd guess at the reason Julian's parents had risked prison and becoming social outcasts by getting their son treatment on Adigeon Prime. He's...not precisely ashamed of it anymore, but it still doesn't feel good to admit, and he hadn't told many people at all why his parents had done it. Miles, Captain Sisko, and that was about it.
"But no, they haven't. And even with my status known, it's not anything that will be reviewed anytime soon--not since we're at war with a power in our time that uses genetically engineered soldiers. It seems that we've only ever been used as weapons."
Julian doesn't necessarily feel kinship with the Jem'Hadar--after all, they're his enemies. But he knows they didn't ask for that sort of life either.
"A little. Not too much. She doesn't seem to be the type to let on about things."
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And Harper, completely unengineered and proud of it, from Earth, an Earth completely unlike the one Julian's holodeck program surrounds them with that gave him absolutely no advantage except the ability to fight like hell, is one of the most brilliant engineers Dylan's ever known.
Not liking the rules in this world he's landed in doesn't change them. But Dylan's never taken kindly to injustice, and it is unjust that Julian, whatever his genetic background, can't be exactly who and what he is and be taken for that. That he and his crew are in the same situation.
That doesn't mean he can't understand the reasoning.
If anyone can, it's the man who's seen first hand what the Nietzschean Rebellion cost the Known Worlds.
He shakes his head, a hint of a fond smile on his face, even as he starts to prod idly at his food.
"Yeah. That's our Trance. But I ask because my world has its own history with genetically engineered warriors that ..."
His laugh is bitter.
"Let's just say it's about as good as yours. But I've seen how different it could be, and it doesn't have to be like that."
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But Julian's enhancements are what got him his Starfleet career, he has to think--he most likely wouldn't be here if it weren't for them. He'd be on Earth, doing...something with his life, he has no idea what. But the person he would have become is long gone. Julian took his place years ago.
And he's also accepted that because of it, there are some people who are uncomfortable with the simple fact that he's not natural. He'd been the same way, before he could live embracing that reality. Not exactly healthy.
"Perhaps in the future, it won't be." He can hope, anyway. Not necessarily for himself, because he's content with his life--as it is in the future, he can be wholly himself and not face censure for it. Generally. Right now, though, that's just simply not the case.
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He shakes his head.
"The war the Nietzscheans launched against the Commonwealth destroyed civilization as I knew it. Left the Known Worlds in chaos and darkness for three hundred years. Killed ..." His voice trails off, and his head shakes, again, sadly. "I don't think anyone knows how many people the war killed, or the occupation of planets that came after it."
Of course, he'd played his part in the casualties of that war. A hundred thousand Nietzschean lives is a hard thing to bear on his conscience, even knowing why he'd done it and how many lives he might have saved from oppression at their hands by preserving history's account of Witchhead.
"There are people who hold that against them," he admits, quietly, because there have been times when he was one of those people. Times when anger at Rhade's betrayal and the then too-fresh, too-close pain of losing his entire world had made him want to wipe out entire Prides. But that's not him. Not at heart. It was only ever a darkness born of anger and hurt.
He knows better. Especially after Witchhead.
"But the idea of holding that against anyone genetically engineered is ridiculous to me. Even against all Nietzscheans. I've got allies, a crew member, even, who are Nietzschean. And I'd like to think your world could take the same attitude."
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So it's not that it was completely outlawed. Just that being enhanced, given abilities beyond the norm, was.
"Therefore, disorders such as the one I likely had as a child--no diagnosis was ever made and therefore I can't confirm it--just don't come up as often. Most parents simply don't know how to deal with them. And...for someone as...prideful as my father, it was a bitter pill." To have a child who didn't quite live up to expectations, who wouldn't have a lucrative and illustrious career. Who might have still been happy, despite that. There were, even with humanity's corrected genome, plenty of people who lived with mental disability and illness.
Julian's still hurt by his parents' willingness to give up on him--on Jules--all these years later. Even if he began to forgive already.
"And frankly, the most visible people who have undergone processes similar to the one I did are...less than completely balanced. There are side-effects, quite often and quite disruptive. Perhaps more so than the conditions the child's parents sought out genetic re-sequencing to address."
It's a disservice to them, one that so soon after meeting his fellows Julian can feel the bitterness of. Jack, Lauren, Patrick, and Sarina deserved as much a chance to contribute as he has--and perhaps now they will--but that didn't change the fact that they'd been altered without their knowledge, surely without informed consent, and now they were paying for it. Just as Julian nearly had a year ago.
"The context is...somewhat different. We simply don't have extensive genetic engineering any longer. There aren't people like yourself and I visible to change the perception away from the violent past. Not to any great degree."
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He holds the cup warm in his hand before sipping, blue eyes fixed on Julian. The doctor's been dancing around the subject of just what his genetic enhancements are and just what they were aimed to correct, and Dylan's curious, of course, but that's not really the point here.
He's picking up enough to get a bit of an idea, at least, and the situation is ... different to most of the genetically enhanced humans in his world, many of whom just ... are. Not to fix any particular condition. The result of enhancements on their ancestors, like Dylan in descending from people on worlds inhospitable to unenhanced humans, or like Beka, just inheriting that little edge that helps make her such a good pilot.
Dylan's expression is sympathetic as he looks at Julian. This is a world far different from his own, when the technology to engineer human genes hasn't had the thousands of years of advancement it has in his world.
A world where things go wrong with it.
"I'm sorry. At least in my world, that sort of side effect doesn't happen much. Not any more. And truth be told, most genetically enhanced people haven't undergone any sort of processes to correct anything. They've inherited enhanced genes like I did."
He shakes his head and shrugs.
"I'm not sure that would make me that great an example to change any perceptions. The actual engineering in my genes happened when my mother's family settled on a Heavy Gravity world."
Though at least in this world, the wars that have caused these prejudices are past.
In Dylan's, the fight between the Nietzscheans and humans still goes on, on slave worlds and in pirate raids and in petty tyrannies across countless planets. There are a lot of people out there still fighting the remnants of the civil war that caused the Fall.
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His disability hadn't been life-threatening. It would have resulted in him having a different life path, almost certainly. But there'd been no guarantee of that, or even that it would have taken. He could have ended off worse than before.
"At any rate, the context is different. There are caveats to the legislation, simply because of how prevalent engineering was in our past. Having ancestry, even Augment ancestry, a certain number of generations back is permissible. And you and your crew are from another reality entirely, or at the very least another time frame. I've done a bit more reading, and I'm not sure our laws regarding it would apply to any of you at all."
It wouldn't be fair to expect, anyway. It's not anything that he personally would challenge legal precedent on, but he preferred to fly under the radar anyway--so to speak. Since Captain Hunt and his crew's presence isn't intentional, and expected to be temporary, he can't expect a reaction to the level of his. It's been 15 years or more, since he researched this in earnest, and while his recall is perfect, his understanding of legal interpretation had been somewhat limited as a teenager.
He sips his tea, but has ignored his scone.
"Hypotheticals aside, do you have any questions I might answer, specifically?"
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When he'd considered the problems he might encounter in an alternate universe where there is not and never has been a Commonwealth, the idea that his genetics might be illegal was far from his thoughts. In part, certainly, that's because there's a difference between being engineered yourself and inheriting enhanced genetics like he did from his mother's family who'd lived on a heavy gravity world before she came to Tarn-Vedra, or Tyr and Rhade from their whole race.
He has his issues with the Nietzschean race, but they're with their actions, their philosophies and beliefs and what they do as a result, not with who they're born. Gaheris might have been a traitor, but Ismael was a loyalist. Tyr is a friend. The Sabra-Jaguar are allies, and for all the trouble they've caused, he needs them. That's what matters.
And that's from their world, not this one. Any of it.
Dylan's fingers tap on the table for a moment.
"Not specifically." He draws out a long, thoughtful breath. "But it is clear I need to learn more about the history of the Federation and this world." He smiles. "Not just because of this."
He hasn't forgotten Trance's words when he first found himself here, either. Hasn't forgotten that this is a world where there's a Federation three times larger than the Commonwealth charter requires.
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Julian had plenty of recreations, the educational value of them potentially questionable, but they were made for fun, re-enactments that he and Miles participated in.
"We use rooms like this for more than sitting around and drinking tea--there are holonovels, exercise programs, and historical recreations that can be run. Among others."
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He's never fooled himself into thinking that the task he'd set himself would be easy, and over a year along he's been proven right about that. They still have a lot of worlds that they need to sign up, and a long way to go. He'd like to learn how it was done here, how a Federation of this many worlds was created.
He's not too proud to learn; he knows that he's not a statesman. He is, however, in a position where he has to be one. Which is nothing his High Guard training ever prepared him for.
He glances around the café they're sitting in, the hologram so real it can be touched and felt and experienced as well as seen, very impressive for this time.
"I'm liking the sitting around drinking tea thing. But the rest of it?
That sounds handy."