Dr. Ptacek scanned the storeroom, her antennae shifting attentively at every sound. She hadn’t seen Ibis and Kehin anywhere around the clinic in the last couple of days. The disturbing reports that people were starting to avoid the Federation medical stations, either out of fatalism that the doctors couldn’t help them or a more disturbing suspicion that their illnesses might be the deliberate result of the team’s actions, were continuing. The Andorian doctor was anxious that the two orphans might have heard the stories, and believed them — or worse, become sick themselves, or been victims of some violence.

She didn’t want to see that happen. A much more personal interest and attachment had grown in her heart over the past few months. She cared too much about the children to leave them here in the midst of a desolated planet trying to rebuild itself, victims of a culture that had no place for them.

Two days of not seeing them had confirmed her resolve.

Along the back wall, she spotted the Bolian medic. He was inventorying and shelving newly-delivered boxes of medicine.

“Vak, have you seen Ibis or Kehin today?”

“The two children?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe I have.”

“Where might they have gone?” she muttered.

Vak paused to wipe the sheen of sweat off his blue skull ridge — the storeroom was unpleasantly warm for the Federation officers, a combination of power conservation and comfort for the native Cardassians. “Have you checked with Garak? Dr. Bashir’s Cardassian friend? I believe they’ve been spending a great deal of time with him recently.”

She pursed her lips. “The one who found the Hebitian tomb? I haven’t seen him recently either. Where would he be?”

“The memorial garden in the Paldar sector, in the corner where the Coranum and Tarlak sectors come together. He maintains the garden, with the help of any who care to assist him. I’ve heard the children talk of spending time there.”

“Thank you.”

Back at his perch after the break with Lt. Kato, Jake tried again to start writing his next story. After a half-hour of alternately staring resentfully at the blank PADD screen and equally resentfully at the empty, sun-baked courtyard, he found his opening sentences.

*What do you do when nothing you do is ever enough? In light of the vicious rumors currently spreading through the local population, that is the question the Cardassian relief team has to be asking itself. And it’s a fair question.*

He studied those few lines for a moment. Yes, it was a fair question, after some of the things an unusually downcast Aya had said in their brief conversation over raktajino.

But maybe it shouldn’t suggest the Cardassians were providing their own relief. A quick scribble changed the line to, *That is the question the Federation relief teams on Cardassia have to be asking themselves.* Yeah, that was better.

*An undercurrent of local suspicion suggests that the unknown disease now reaching epidemic proportions in several locations across the planet is the result of Federation activities, perhaps deliberate, and not the aftermath of the Dominion efforts to exterminate the people here. At the very least, the rumor has it, the Federation is making insufficient efforts to combat the fatal illness.*

He reviewed the words again, and changed *unknown disease* to *new disease*. Best to make sure his readers understood how short a time Bashir and the others had been facing the medical challenge.

*Their evidence of this alleged conspiracy against Cardassia?

*That our doctors have not yet found a cure.*

He leaned back, smiling and nodding, not consciously noticing the warm cracked stone against his back. The story was off to a good start....

The children were in the memorial garden. Ptacek saw them working quietly, cleaning the carvings in the base of one of the statues. Brushes in one hand, personal-size detoxifiers in the other, cloths hanging from their oversized aprons, they were intent on their task. The Andorian woman had become attuned to their moods and the way the generally reserved Cardassian children concealed most of their feelings to offworlders. She could see that Ibis and Kehin had settled whatever argument had been a wedge between them, and were again content in each other’s company and in what they were doing.

She watched them from the shade of a stele for a moment before calling to them. “Ibis. Kehin. I’d like to talk to you.”

She saw momentary jumpiness on the boy’s face, and wondered if he’d done something he didn’t want an adult to know about. Then they looked at each other, and back at her.

“Is there someplace we can talk privately?” she asked.

“It’s private here,” Ibis said.

“No one comes here at this time of day,” Kehin added. “They’re too busy.”

“Except Garak,” the girl noted, “when he’s not at the clinic or somewhere else.”

“And those times, we have even more to do, and can’t leave because we have to keep an eye on things for him,” was the boy’s conclusion.

“All right,” the doctor acknowledged, accepting that the children felt it was their Cardassian duty to stay in the garden and keep working. “But I hope you’ll at least put down those detoxifiers so you can hear what I have to say.”

The youngsters both nodded.

“We could rest for a moment,” Ibis announced.

Ptacek followed the Cardassian children to a bench a dozen short paces from the statue. She found it interesting that, while in most cases it was Kehin who took the lead and was protective of the slender girl, here in the garden Ibis seemed more in charge and sure of herself. Seating themselves, Kehin and Ibis watched Ptacek expectantly.

She considered how to begin. “There is something important I want to talk with you about. I know that neither of you have been claimed by any surviving relatives—”

“We have each other,” Kehin interrupted with determination. Suspicion touched his expression.

She nodded. “I have seen that. And I know that no one could take either of you away from the other, now. You are close as siblings. You even fight like them,” she finished with sly humor.

They didn’t seem to catch the joke.

Looking down at her hands, Ptacek studied her fingernails for a moment.

Frankness was the best beginning, she decided. “It seems you have no one and nothing here. I would like to change that. I would like to give you a family and a home,” she said bluntly. “I would like to adopt you and take you away from this place. With me.”

They looked at each other.

“Both of you,” she added quickly, sensing alarm that they might be parted.

The children kept staring at each other. She wondered what was passing between them in those stares.

“Have the Directorate and the Reunion Council decided to send children to other planets?” Ibis asked quietly after a moment.

“No. No, of course not. I don’t think your government has made any decisions about that. I don’t think they’ve even considered what to do for their orphans. But I am asking you to become my children, to be part of my family. To let me be your parent — if you want to, because I care about you and want to see you grow up happy and healthy, away from this ruined world.”

There. She had blundered through it. She wasn’t sure what reaction she’d expected from Kehin and Ibis, but these awkward shared looks weren’t it.

“I’m not saying this well, am I?” she hazarded. “And I’m rushing you. I don’t mean to. But we won’t be here forever — the Federation relief team — and I want you to have time to make a decision, and time for the three of us to make plans and arrangements.”

“We will have to think about it,” Ibis stated with dignity.

“I understand. I expected you would need time,” the Andorian woman replied. “It’s an important decision, and I know you won’t make it lightly.” Her gaze shifted to Kehin. “We can talk about it at supper this evening. If you have any questions, please don’t be afraid to ask them. This is a big decision. I ... I want to become your parent, to both of you, if you accept me, and it is a parent’s responsibility to tend to a child’s questions and needs.”

The children’s expressions were thoughtful, and they were no longer turning to each other. Ptacek knew she had to give them time. Pressing them now would be unfair.

“I’ll see you at supper,” she finished, and walked away.

Though she wanted to stop and listen, to hear what they would say to each other now, she knew it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. She deliberately focused her hearing on what wildlife she could detect, and on the dusty breeze sighing among the stones. She pushed her straight white hair off her forehead, shielding her eyes from the hazy light of the sun. Her spirits lifted despite the intense heat eddying around her. Ibis and Kehin would consider it. By this evening, she hoped they—

“You want to take them away from here.”

She started at the quiet, unexpected voice so close to her. Her antennae shifted intently toward the husky Cardassian male who seemed to appear from nowhere.

“Mr. Garak....”

“They won’t go, you know.” His chilling blue eyes fixed on hers.

“Why not?” She almost shivered, told herself it was the sudden breeze through her sweat-dampened clothes.

“What could you possibly offer them?”

Taken aback, she replied, “I could give them a home — a family. Security.”

His smile was as unexpected as his voice had been. “I am sure you mean well, doctor, but I assure you, what you could give them is nothing compared to what they already have.”

Her glance jerked to the ruins around them, her antennae curling in shock.

“They are Cardassian,” he reproved.

She frowned.

“You don’t understand, do you? A pity....”

Before she could respond, he’d vanished among the monuments.

There are no easy answers, no simple cures. And that doesn’t seem to be acceptable or comprehensible to a demanding population.

Exhaustion sets in. Ultimately, there is nothing more we can give, emotionally or physically... Jake considered for a moment, then nodded emphatically and entered another sentence. Faced with resentment from those you’ve come to help, with the sense that nothing you do will ever be enough, it becomes tempting to give up....

Struggling in the face of adversity, where the overwhelming odds of hunger, devastation, and plague weren’t the greatest foes to overcome, but the enmity of the very people they were trying to help. This was great. Vonderhaar was going to love it. Federation citizens would see, from his words, just what their relief teams were up against on Cardassia.

“Jake?”

Distracted, he looked up. “Huh?”

It was Eske, the emotionally elusive human nurse, looking unexpectedly somber. “Can you come? That Cardassian child you brought in, she’s not doing well today. She’s asking for you.”

Chapter 7