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Tobin nods gratefully to Voshen as he excuses himself. As the navigator walks away, he turns back to Jeeri. "I take it that the ambassador is not willing to disclose the existence of the symbionts to the Federation, then?" Tobin asks, his voice lowered. "Because if so, I am afraid that may scuttle our application. Our world's reticence on certain topics makes many think we have something to hide, Jeeri."

"It's certainly an adventure, between the polarization of Legorian Hall* along application lines, the almost off-putting nature of the Federation commissariats' enthusiasm, and the opposition of the Novan-aligned bloc in the Federation Council. But that's what this preconference session's about, right?"

Tobin nods. "I suppose so. Honestly, I'd rather leave this sort of thing to you -- I'm much more at home in my lab than dealing with politicians -- but I can hardly refuse being personally asked by Kurzon Dax," he says in a self-deprecating fashion mirroring Jeeri's own non-boastful boasting.

"Which leads me to ask," he continues, "what is Ambassador Voliax's position on Federation membership? I'm afraid it feels as though my crew and I are being brought into this whole thing half-blind."

Tobin quirks a half-smile as he recognizes Jeeri. "Legate Prussk," he says, nodding respectfully and putting an emphasis on the new name. "I must say I am surprised to see you, but then I guess I shouldn't be. You always were ambitious -- 'bound for great things,' Master Nohr said."

Turning to Voshen, Tobin explains, "The legate and I were ... classmates, in our youth." Returning his attention to Jeeri, he adds with a smile, " It's good to see you again, Jeeri. From the look of you, I'd say diplomatic life suits you."

OOC: Let's say Tobin and Jeeri were friendly rivals. They got along well enough, but there was always a degree of tension as they tried to outdo one another. Obviously, Jeeri got the last laugh on that, since Tobin was filtered out of the program.

"You and I needed to leave our pasts behind in order to find our place in the Federation.  I offer that Trill may need to prepare to do the same.  Commander."  The lanky lieutenant padded down the patio and along the sandy beach, waves erasing his long footsteps.

Tobin watches the Zaranite leave, concern creasing his brow, then sighs as he turns back to regard the ocean. "Damn secrets. They make everything so complicated," he mutters to himself.

"Is it much the same?  On Trill?  What exactly are we arguing for here?  What are we being asked to defend?"

Tobin knots his eyebrows in thought. "At its core, Trill culture asks each of us to place something higher than self at the center. That takes different forms for some of us. Those like Dax will know and experience things I could only imagine. I wanted to be like him, you know. Well, not him specifically, but of his ... order, so to speak. That didn't come to pass. At the time, I was devastated. The purpose I had devoted my life to was gone, snatched away by what seemed a manifestly unfair system. That's why I joined Starfleet. I needed some purpose, some higher calling for myself. And I found it, out here in the galaxy, seeking knowledge and understanding. Working hand in hand with my crew."

He glances at the Zaranite. "My people can be reticent. We have a secret that many of us consider far too precious and fragile to risk. And that can be a flaw, no doubt. It may even, in the end, bar our way to Federation membership. But I believe entry to the Federation is a necessity for my people to grow. I hope that the Federation will cause more of my people to see that there is not so much to fear in the galaxy as we have thought. Perhaps it's naive optimism, but I really do believe that, over time, the water of knowledge can wear away at the cliff of fear, until it one day becomes a beach." He smiles. "Perhaps like the one we find ourselves at here."

"Commander?  May I join you?"  Lt. Voshen approached Tobin on the patio with a fluted glass of small, local crustaceans, a bright floral stalk waggling on top.  He spent an awkward moment detangling the stem from the tubes of his respirator.  "The need to embellish even the smallest foodstuffs here is certainly a choice."

A peal of laughter rang out from the main building.  Ambassador Dax had reached the punchline of some story and was in the middle of replacing an empty tropical cocktail with another one.  "The ambassador certainly does not seem to mind...embellishment."  He clicked his vocoder twice wryly.  "I will admit: it is a strange temperament to see in such a high-ranking diplomat.  But his reputation speaks for itself, of course.  Are all Trill functionaries as...convivial as Ambassador Dax?"

Tobin smiles as he turns to glance inside at Dax as he holds court. "He is particularly gregarious, for just about any species. At least the ones I'm aware of." The officer looks down and picks at his food. "Certainly part of that is just his personality. But I'm fairly certain he also uses it as a tool for his work -- getting people to let down their guard is highly useful. So don't let his charming frivolity fool you, he is a formidable person."

He looks back up at the Zaranite. "You know, Voshen, he does more than just wrangle diplomats. When I was first assigned to Capt. Treyva's command, we worked with him on an operation to take a rogue Starfleet officer into custody. It was definitely a harrowing introduction to this crew," he says, snorting out a chuckle as he shakes his head ruefully.

"But we're supposed to be off duty for the night. Tell me, what do you think of our accommodations? Do they have resorts like this back on your homeworld?"

After engaging in what he judges to be the appropriate minimum of small talk, Tobin wanders out onto the patio by himself with a plate of some sort of tropical Novan delicacy -- it appears to be cubes of raw fish tossed in a mixture of vegetables with a copious drizzling of some kind of vegetable oil. Taking a seat at one of the tables, he picks at the food while he thinks.

Being involved in these talks is a great honor, but I can't help but worry about all the things that may go wrong. The intransigence of politicians knows no bounds, after all. He sighs. I wish T'Kalla were here. A little Vulcan stoicism and logic could go a long way in a situation like this.

Tobin takes a deep breath.

"I'm afraid it's not quite as simple as that, Lieutenant," he says, speaking somewhat slower than usual as he chooses his words carefully. "There are certain practices which are deeply engrained in our society. Though Mr. Dax is correct in saying they are not precisely religious in nature, it could be helpful to compare them to one.

"In my readings on Earth anthropology, I have learned some about the Druze, a fascinating group. They keep most of their religion secret. There are facets of their religion a layperson will never have direct experience of; only certain devoted members learn their full teaching. And of course outsiders are strictly forbidden from this knowledge. Historically, as a religious minority, this was in part to protect their community from persecution. But for those who still practice the faith, it is simply part of their identity.

"Without going into details, Trill society has some parallels. Mr. Dax would be among these devoted members, in this metaphor. Revealing the full truth of our culture to non-Trill could cause the unraveling of our society, or so some say. I would have once shared this concern, but my experiences in Starfleet have changed my perspective. Nevertheless, my view is in the minority. If Trill society is to become more open regarding these practices, it will have to happen slowly. I doubt the Trill delegation would be willing to do so in the context of this conference."

Tobin's grin turns to a more somber, reflective expression as Dax replies. Being forced to return home would be ... quite frustrating. Not least because of his resumed relationship with T'Kalla, but it went beyond that. He felt his calling lay in exploring the stars and seeing things no one, or at least no Trill, had seen before. And though he appreciated his culture, his people had become very inward-facing as a result, he felt, of keeping the symbiont secret from the wider galaxy. Starfleet, with its many races and cultures represented therein, had been a breath of fresh air for the curious scientist. And he was certain the Federation could do the same for his people -- if they would let it.

"I have found that my tenure in Starfleet, and on the Drake in particular, has been both welcoming and edifying.  Zaran certainly has its own critics of wider Federation policy, but even they recognize the value of membership.  Speaking for myself, being recalled to the homeworlds would be..."  He looked to Cmdr. Les as he tailored his words.  "...it would be a great loss.  I sincerely hope our presence can provide the inspiration the ambassadors require."

"Well said, Lieutenant; I agree wholeheartedly. Let us hope we can convince the ambassadors that the Federation and my world would be stronger and better together than apart."

He shifts his gaze to Curzon. "I think I can guess why Ambassador Voliax has her reservations. But what about Ambassador Erricko? What is the basis of his opposition to our membership?"

Curzon nods approvingly at the civilian attire (and, as usual, Tann-Tyra looks incredibly alluring, even as she's attempting to downplay any form of sensuality in her dress*). The Trill rises to greet her "properly" - which each man had done at least once when they first met the security officer; however, the crew have been around her long enough to acclimate themselves to her pheromones, and no longer become foolish around her.

Tobin chuckles quietly to himself as he observes Curzon's interaction with his Deltan crewmate. But who can blame him? No matter how many lifetimes of experience he has, he's still mortal, he thinks to himself.

"Okay, but why us?" Miguel chimes in.

"Oh, that's easy: You and Tobin are a Novan and a Trill working together as department heads on the same ship, and I know you all are trustworthy - saw that in the Schrepfermann affair. And, bringing in Cole and his security team will take a burden off the Federation Security detail as they do their own prep work." Curzon smiles broadly. "Tobin and Miguel will each be the primary liaison for their respective delegations; Voshen and Chev will be your primary aides in that regard, and Cole and his team will provide security for both groups. Not a bad assignment for a couple weeks in paradise, eh?"

"Staying in a resort, taking an active role in a pivotal moment of history for my world? Could be worse," Tobin says, grinning. "But you're making this sound like a cakewalk, as the human expression goes. With respect, sir, there must be a catch."

Tobin smiles as he greets the Starfleet Intelligence operative.

"It's good to see you again as well, Mr. Dax. But you do seem to enjoy being enigmatic, sir. I think I speak for us all in saying we've been wondering the whole way here what this all about. Not that I'm complaining about the locale, but I must admit I've never understood why we hold important events at these leisure resorts."

I'll convert over the remaining medical staff, so Casey, Dr. Galt and Nurse Brown.

[Current Determination]

Current Determination
2

Reputation
Episode 2.2: 4

Advancement
Log entry after Episode 1.13: -1 Presence (9), +1 Control (10)
Milestone after Episode 2.1: +1 Command (3)
Character Arc after Episode 2.2: Add Encryption focus

[Background]

Background
Tobin grew up on Trill, the son of a writer and a musician. His parents encouraged him to explore the arts, and he eventually became a fine player of the kinor, a Trill instrument similar to the cello. He enjoyed studying great literature and art, but as he grew older, it became apparent his real passion, and talent, lay in mathematics and science. He applied to the Initiate Program, devoting several years of his life to the program, but failed to win a symbiont, leading to a period of depression as he attempted to figure out what he would do with his life.

As his people's ties with the Federation grew and it began to appear inevitable they eventually would join, Tobin latched onto the idea of joining Starfleet, attracted by the challenge it presented. Impulsively, and against his parents' advice, he traveled to Earth at the age of 22 and applied to Starfleet Academy, quickly gaining acceptance, and majored in the sciences. Despite the rigorous coursework, Tobin, who was the only Trill at the Academy (or in Starfleet, as far as he knew) initially found the largest obstacle to be working with the wide variety of students, who hailed from all corners of the Federation and beyond. However, by his sophomore year, he had adapted to, and embraced, this diversity, finding it to be one of Starfleet's greatest strengths.

He graduated from the Academy in 2281, receiving an assignment as a junior science officer aboard the USS Macon, an Oberth-class science vessel assigned to survey systems that had previously received only cursory attention from passing Starfleet vessels. He served on the Macon for six years, rising to the rank of lieutenant and eventually becoming chief science officer under the command of Capt. Prugm bav Gronnahk.

Several months before he was due to transfer off the Macon for several months' leave to visit home on Trill, the ship suffered a catastrophic accident during one of its routine survey missions. While cruising at warp 2, a freak malfunction lead to a cascading failure of the ship's warp drive, quickly escalating out of the crew's ability to contain. All hands reported to the lifeboats, and most made it off the Macon before she was destroyed. Tobin and his good friend Lt. jg. Evan Good, the ship's communications officer, shared a lifeboat, and found themselves adrift for several days before they crash-landed on a barely habitable Class-L planet. Good was injured in the crash, and Tobin, who also was injured, did his best to save his friend while they waited for rescue, but it wasn't enough. By the time rescue vessels found them, Good had died.

Tobin blamed himself, falling back into a period of depression, though he received a promotion to Lieutenant Commander for his efforts to keep Good alive in the survival situation. Tobin reluctantly accepted the promotion, not feeling truly worthy of the honor. After several months of medical treatment and counseling (and a visit home to Trill) following the destruction of the Macon, Lt. Tobin Les returned to active duty, being dispatched to Starbase 24 amid heightened tensions along the Klingon border. Still grieving the loss of his friend and other crewmates, he decided to redouble his efforts, working long hours -- his counselor says it is a (hopefully temporary) coping mechanism for dealing with his grief and feelings of guilt. Regardless, he has received orders to take over as chief science officer aboard the USS Drake.

Appearance
Average height and build, curly, short black hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard.

Personality
Tobin is a focused and dedicated officer, often working in the science labs after the end of his scheduled shift. When he does take time off, he often can be found playing his kinor (a gift from his mother after the Macon was destroyed) in his quarters, as he finds it very relaxing. Very well-read, Tobin tends to use large words in everyday speech. Despite his workaholic tendencies, Tobin does not expect others to work as much as he does, and he generally gets along well with his crewmates and those he supervises. He tends to take a hands-off approach to management, trusting his science officers' skills and dedication.

I'll do Garav, Thadis and York for starters.