Time Regained: A log of Riya Aklar

Posted on Sun Apr 27th, 2025 @ 4:36pm by Ensign Riya Aklar

3,095 words; about a 15 minute read

“Time Regained: A log of Riya Aklar”
Ens. Riya Bijjwal
StarFleet Command
SD: 78367.3 (May 15, 2401)

“I’m gonna change your life. / I’m gonna steal your soul.
I’ll keep you warm at night. / I’ll leave you in the cold.

I’m gonna change your life. / I’m gonna leave my mark.
We can lie in the light. / We can wander in the dark.

I wanna know your feelings. / I wanna know your shame.
I wanna know your secrets. / I wanna know your name.

I’m gonna change your life. / I’m gonna turn you around.
I can lift you up. / You could hold me down.”


- The Thermals, “I’m Gonna Change Your Life”

Mostly, she remembered dying. Eyes fluttering shut in old age looking out at the purple ocean in Wewon-on-the-Sea. The pain of radiation sickness ravaging the body over several days. Watching the symbiote be separated from the body, giving a life to protect Aklar’s. Crushed in a shuttle accident. Passing from a brief illness in retirement, surrounded by family. Severed from the symbiote in a flash.

Her mind was a swirl of images, feelings, thoughts, scents, sensations. Overwhelming. Too much. Too loud. Too… full. It was all too much. Too much flooding her all at once, too much to learn, to know, to experience. “Slower.” She said out loud. “Slower!” She took a deep breath, holding it and exhaling slowly. “Concentrate on one thing. One thing.”

In and out, in and out. She focused on controlling her breathing, clearing her mind. She pictured something that she could claim as hers. At first it was hard to tell. So many images, so many feelings, so many perspectives. She thought about the Academy, the Golden Gate Bridge. But there was visual dissonance. She remembered seeing it from too many different angles. Berin was tall, Eurid was short. They both had stood at the same place but the view was different. Phaele never stood exactly there, so she saw a similar view from several meters away. All three views were overlaid, and couldn't reconcile. She adjusted and tried to focus on her… something that was truly hers. It was hard to find herself. She saw glimpses, as if seeing them through doors that were closing as soon as she focused on them.

But then she felt something. The sickening, nervous energy of going on a date. The fear of the unknown, the unworthiness, the joy, the excitement… “Shoes… must find my shoes.” The words flowed out of her mouth and suddenly she found herself in a dark space. Concentrating on the feeling, suddenly the details began to fill in. She was wearing a gray dress, which accentuated her deep fawn skin. A single gray pump was in front of her. Its partner was… Under her bed. She bent down as if to pick up the shoe and the unmade bed of quarters faded into view. She moved the covers to the side, revealing the underside of her bed, and fished out the other shoe. As she stood up, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her messy updo was leaving strands of dark chestnut across her face. They framed her face and enhanced the brown of her eyes, though they also drew attention to the dark shadows of last night’s makeup under her eyes. Her dark spots only further framed her face, tapering from her temples down her shoulders, which the straps of the dress gracefully hemmed.

Riya. I’m Riya. She concentrated on the memory. She was preparing for a night out with Clem, center for the Academy water polo team. They had been in a coy back and forth over the last semester and with graduation and Frontier Day looming, they finally made the jump to go out together. The Bolian swimmer was popular but somewhat aloof. Humorous and determined, but oddly alone. They shared a class this last year; they studied together, becoming closer than just being in each other's orbit. She laughed at a joke; he pressed on. They ate in the mess hall; they stared at the bridge. Despite both being academic seniors and their life experiences, their initial courtship was furtive, almost juvenile, but finally Clem asked.

She found herself in that memory. I’m Riya, she repeated. Riya… Aklar.

That name was a surprise. New, never worn. But it also felt correct, if not exactly right. She was being flooded with memories but she found a simple, sweet moment to cling to. More. She heard a voice that wasn’t her’s whisper in her mind. Find yourself in more.

They were seated in a restaurant in the Tenderloin. Porthos. Named for Admiral Archer’s dog, the restaurant had been founded by the NX-01’s chef and successively handed down his family for generations. An academy date night staple. She was trying to remember the meal or the conversation. There was polite laughter, general talk, commiserating over their fears of their postings, talk about Clem’s big plays. Jokes. They laughed, touched hands. She heard herself say “Typical Bolian attitude…” as Clem described a play from his last polo match, a rakish smile crossing his face. “Stop, Clem!” she shouted in jest as he tried and failed to balance a glass of water on his ridges to close the evening, rivulets of water cascading down his forehead, the glass magically landed on its rim. They walked back through the city to their dorms. They held hands. They passed the bridge and looked at it together, her head tilted onto his shoulder.

Suddenly, she felt more herself. The chaff of other minds was segmented off. Riya remembered her training in the Symbiosis Commission but it hadn’t prepared her for this feeling. The rush of feelings. The loss of self. She started to live in other memories. Her parents. Her siblings. But she was younger than most of the other hosts and they had so much life; it was overwhelming.

The last week played before her. The early graduation from the Academy. The rush to be assigned to ships for Frontier Day. She drew a spot on the Archer. She and Clem joked about the kismet of eating a meal with the Admiral’s Dog and now serving on his ship. Clem was sent to the Khitomer. They parted in the transit hall, with a promise to stay connected. They both knew it wasn’t likely; they both hoped it was.

She didn’t remember the events of Frontier Day. The loss of self, the disorientation, sitting on the bridge one moment, arms deep in a panel three decks away the next. A pinprick of light invaded this memory, her mind was overlaying the last moments of Drogan Aklar, trying to make sense of what Aklar didn’t know about the day after it was separated from Drogan. She felt pain, she felt loss. Uncertainty. She “saw” Drogan in her mind, recognition despite never having met him. He was examining the shade of the Borgified her. She moved forward to say something to him and the whole memory dissolved.


She had been Borg for less than a day and didn’t know what she had done. Didn’t suspect… The violation hurt the most. She couldn’t make amends for her actions, couldn’t reckon. The whirlwind of being returned to Earth, endless medical scans, a “restorative” trip through the transporter. It was all too much.

And then she was approached by a Trill Ambassador. There was a symbiote who had been rescued during the height of Frontier Day. Severed from its host. But oddly… the host had not yet died. She was a medical match, available to be joined and fit the psychological profile of the symbiote. She agreed.

Riya had been trained, prepped, wanted to be joined. But the Ambassador seemed a little resentful. Not of her, but of who she was being joined to. “A once-storied Symbiote,” he had said. “Who had been attached to a rebel, a rule follower and a socially awkward scientist.” If he had been trying to scare her off, the idea that the symbiote wasn’t some succession of academics or bureaucrats, but instead a wild card felt exciting, interesting.

There had been a warning. The circumstances of Drogan’s severing had done some damage to the symbiote. It was recuperating, but wouldn’t have survived a trip back to Trill unjoined. So it might not take, might not work or could be different from what she was trained for. That’s how she found herself here, adrift in memories of both her own and others. And she couldn’t claim to be anything other than floundering.

Ah, you’ve come to help me find your zero point. She instinctively knew it was Aklar speaking. Welcome. We are Aklar. Or at least we will be if this joining works out. The symbiote felt warm in her pouch, flooding her system with feeling. She walked through an opening door in her mind.

Aklar, she said into the void.

You were expecting someone else? A tall, burly man with a white beard stood before her. His suit was old fashioned, his demeanor a little arch. This was Berin. The first host. He set the tone for Aklar. An academic with a storied career. Aklar was supposed to be attending a lecture series on his books about the early Federation. She felt reassurance emanating from him, he seemed to be adjusting to her presence in the symbiote. He offered a curt nod.

Another flash in her mind and she saw a dark haired woman standing with her arms crossed. She was imposing, despite being short. Her face was broad, her aquiline features giving her a classical, severe beauty. This was Eurid, the second host. A weapons system designer and a key figure in many 23rd-century StarFleet refits. Eurid radiated confidence. Just three small points. Where am I? Who am I? And who are you?

Riya was starting to understand. The symbiote was talking through the hosts. You’re on Earth. You were damaged. Your connection was cut and they said there’d be some issues. You’re Aklar. No… We are Aklar.

Who am I? She whispered to herself. Who am I? It was an obvious question. Aklar was learning who she was. She could give her biography. But realistically it should know who she is. And Aklar was showing her bits of her life.

Who am I? She realized the question wasn’t about her name, her siblings. It was existential. I don’t really know yet. I just graduated from the academy, I hadn’t been on assignment for more than 24 hours when I was taken over. Now I’m here, with a stranger in my mind. I’m nervous and afraid and happy. How can I live up to the name? How can I be me with you here? But I want this, I want to be this, I want to be you. To be us. I am a messy, officious, studious person who is almost never going to feel worthy of being here. But I’ll make sure I am.

Another face stood before her. Dusky brown, wearing a maroon StarFleet uniform. An engineer. Seris. He examined her. Doctor no more? That stung. And it took her back to every fight with her mother before enrolling in the academy. She didn’t want to be stuck here. She didn’t want to be doing what her parents did. She wanted… more. Seris nodded and looked her over. He represented a sense of self-worth. He, too, took a gamble on himself. He left Trill to join StarFleet and became a Chief Engineer. He could have stayed and been… something else. He didn’t even remember what that path was. Seris smiled and tugged at the lapel of his uniform, I forged my own path, you will too.

Run. Came the next voice. Phaele, the artist. She was skeptical of the Trill symbiosis commission, broke with them, was exiled. A rebel. Oddly, despite her rebellion, despite her distaste for the structure, Aklar seemed to like her the best. She was at the surface, full of life. Run into it, Riya. We’ll grow together. Independence was Phaele’s metaphor and it shone through her like a star.

Riya was calming down, finding more of herself here. She was learning to access other’s memories. Though there was still dissonance. She would smile and her mind would reject what it saw in the reflection. New teeth, that’s weird. Expecting to see her smile but seeing it through Eurid’s eyes. But then it passed and she saw herself, accepted herself. I know these teeth. This was getting weird.

It only gets weirder, came the voice of Volen, the lanky security officer. Now then, where were we? Volen’s hand went to his chin. You were telling us about you. Phaele invited you to grow with us. Volen felt more tangible, as if the memories were slotting into her mind and making him more real.


What more do you need? She realized Volen was a stand-in for introspection.

You’re on a pathway to losing yourself to 6 minds. Try to lock onto a pure thought of you.

“I remember… I’m… I’m crashing.” She breathed out. “Not literally, but I remember feeling like I was crashing. It was the night before the Academy. And I was absorbed with the feeling that it was all too much. I had finished joining training, being prepped to take on a symbiote. And the responsibility of it all… I doubted who I was. I wasn’t ready for what it all would mean. For this moment. And I fell back onto my bed, but the feeling… was like crashing. Falling forever. Lost in myself.” She flailed her arms and danced around. “Do you happen to know how to fly this thing?’ I shouted out as I laid out on the bed, willing myself to stand back up. Anxiety. I worry. I am worrying. I always worry. It makes me who I am. It’s why I’m good at operations. But it also means, sometimes I give over control to my doubts.”

Volen nodded, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She almost felt it. Welcome.

And for a moment or two there was darkness. Then a dark skinned figure emerged wearing a rumpled sciences uniform. He turned to regard her. Oh… Brilliant! He was more animated than the others. I was young when I joined too. He circled her, moving quickly. Drogan. You remind me of my sister Emin. He smiled. We were very similar. Joining delayed my time at the academy and we ended up attending together.

He paused his circle, staring at her thoughtfully. I was also anxious. His smile slipped, the sudden realization that he wasn’t the primary. My joining was rushed as well. With his hand he drew a line over his pouch, a scar from the joining when the symbiote acted out. Drogan moved forward. I’m fuzzy on the details. Everyone else remembers how…

This surprised Riya. Though it probably shouldn’t have. The Changeling that stabbed Drogan Aklar had targeted the main cluster of nerves that connected the symbiote to the host. By sheer luck, that separation was clean and separation hadn’t killed Drogan. But now the host had an “incomplete” copy of Drogan.

Drogan touched her mind. She could feel it. By remembering what happened, Aklar knew, and so the past selves knew. He recoiled a bit, but then it dawned on him. No way! You’re me!

She paused. This was odd. As if the Drogan self thought of her as another person and not a replacement, a new face. No, I’m me! She shouted out. But we’re also us.

Drogan smiled. Riya wasn’t quite sure what metaphor Drogan was. He was enigmatic, hiding behind frivolity, something the psych profile of Aklar had indicated. I think I’m really, really me. He reached out and took her hand. This time the proffered hand felt real in her hand. I am completely me.

Self-acceptance. The previous host was the last one, the one who indicated if the host and symbiote would pair, would make sense. Joined, Drogan said.

Then they were all there. All six hosts, tangible in her mind. In a moment that could have been forever, they talked, touched, blended. There was a swirl of minds, of emotions. She saw all their lives, all their loves, losses, successes, failures, achievements, shortcomings. And they saw hers.

She saw herself through them and they through her. She was subsumed but still herself. Eventually, the dissonance became something she could control. It would take longer to know the feeling of each host, to access them as seamlessly as Drogan could. They’ll yell at you, but it’s so worth it, he said.

And then she snapped back to reality. Awake on a biobed in StarFleet medical. Attended by Trill surgeons and some supervising Federation doctors. “Ensign Bijjwal?” An Acamarian nurse leaned forward and touched her arm. “Are you awake?”

“I…” she said, her voice slightly raspy. She cleared her throat. “Ensign… Aklar. I’m Riya Aklar.” She looked around and saw nods from the medical team. The nurse squeezed her arm. “Congratulations on your joining, Ensign.”

They asked to watch her for several days. The damage to Aklar had been hard to quantify and monitoring felt like the best way to ensure there were no long term effects. They also indicated it had taken a while for the joining to occur. But that once it did the biosigns of herself and Aklar were strong.

She spent much of the next days reading about her hosts, meditating to commune with Aklar and access their memories.

These were stronger memories. Setting foot on the red sands of Vulcan during the first Trill exchange mission. Successfully activating the weapons array on the Bonhomme Richard for the first time, a system she designed. Standing underneath the Richard’s warpcore as its Chief Engineer. Painting a sunset on Bolia, capturing the velvet purple texture of the day-night on canvas. Witnessing the birth of Sattaro in the medical bay of the Accommodator. Standing over Teagan in the Potmekin sickbay after Tamarra’s attack, touching his fingertips to hers’, inviting her to dinner and dancing.

She remembered dying, yes. But mostly she remembered living.

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