Chapter 2

"Define irony," Lieutenant Aya Kato said.

It wasn't the first time that one of her random statements had puzzled Jake. Ensign Vak seemed to take it all in stride, as he always did. He tipped his head and squinted. After a long moment of thought, he reached out and tapped a finger against the object they stood in front of: a tall, elaborate gate with iron bars. "I'd say this pretty much sums it up," he said casually.

Aya nodded. "Yup. Exactly what I was thinking."

Jake looked at it and understood. "Oh. Nice gate."

"It is a nice gate," she said. "And they've obviously gone to so much trouble to put it back up."

On the other side of the gate, enclosed by the wall which now lay half in ruins, was a neighborhood of Coranum Sector. There had been houses once, their wide foundations still visible, but almost everything here had been vaporized in the Jem'Hadar attacks. It had been the first part of the city destroyed, and one of the hardest hit. Whether it had been selected at random or out of some burst of spite on the Founder's part, no one knew. At any rate, its former elegance and prestige were gone. The only worth it had now were its spacious roads and lots, mainly clear of wreckage, which made it ideal for the camps.

Jake reached out and swung the gate inward on its creaking hinges. The gesture was superfluous; they could have walked four meters to their right and walked through a hole in the wall. But the gate was still there; he figured they might as well use it.

"Ready?"

Vak nodded. "Sure. Lead the way, Lieutenant."

Aya squared her shoulders and walked through, Jake and Vak a step behind. Just inside the grounds, one of many large refugee camps stretched out for several blocks.

"There are so many of them," she said, as if to herself.

Jake nodded slightly. "Dr. Bashir says they've been coming in steadily for at least a month."

Along a section of the wall, a large structure had been set up. It was part Federation emergency shelter, part tent, part makeshift shack, and it served as the office, soup kitchen, and center of operations. There was a line of people about fifty meters long waiting for the day's rations, and it was apparent that some of these people had been waiting for hours. Most of them owned nothing except the clothes they'd fled in, their last tie to their previous lives of comfort and power.

Tents had been set up around the food station and across the camp. They were of Federation design until those tents had run out, and then they were lengths of tattered canvas stretched over whatever was available. Those civilians who didn't wait in line waited near the tents. For a moment Jake looked at them, and then he discretely slipped a padd and stylus from his bag and started writing. He jotted notes, random thoughts. The children run around the camp – almost as if they don't understand what's going on. Games, imagination, playing -- rebuilding? Can't tell who their parents are; they're everyone's children, no one's children. Adults look at them, alert, watchful, rebuking if they have to.

They look numb somehow. Will this ever sink in?

Vak stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Jake?"

Jake glanced up and tucked his padd beneath his elbow. "Coming."

Aya was walking swiftly toward the main tent. She edged her way through the ration line, earning a few stern glances; Jake and Vak kept up as well as they could. A Cardassian man was leaning over a battered portable computer further inside, working feverishly. Aya took notice of him, thought for a moment, and approached him. He didn't notice her. Either that or he didn't think she was worth his time.

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

The Cardassian straightened and eyed her. He was tall, looming over the three of them. His face seemed to be set in an eternal frown, his eyes squinted in skepticism. His clothes were as tattered as the rest, but he seemed to be above them, giving off an air of authority. Maybe that was due to his size; maybe it was something else. "Who are you?"

Aya met his gaze squarely. "We're from the Federation. I'm Lt. Kato and this is Ensign Vak and Jake Sisko."

For a moment, Jake was worried that he'd refuse her greeting. He nodded briefly and faced them. He paused a bit when he looked at Jake. "A reporter," he snorted, motioning to his bag of equipment. "Is the Federation finding our misfortunes entertaining? This isn't a tourist attraction, you know."

"We're here from the clinic," Aya interrupted carefully. "We were told this camp needed an analysis for supply inventory."

That got his attention. "Well. I honestly didn't expect you people to get out here."

"We did," Jake said. "And I'm just here to get information. Give people a clear perspective of the situation."

"Oh, I'll give you your clear perspective," the Cardassian said with a dry laugh. He turned away from his computer and gestured for them to follow him. A few strides away, at the back of the tent, was a small section partitioned off with a threadbare curtain. He pulled it aside to reveal a desk. Or rather, an upturned crate serving as a desk. He rifled through various PADDs stacked on its surface as he spoke.

"Just off the top of my head? The main injuries around here are burns, contusions, and lacerations; we need more treatment kits for each. The conditions here are also favorable for infection, so antibiotics are necessary. We're always in need of blankets and we could do with a better way to purify water. And the children will be needing vitamin supplements. Their diet is so limited, they'll be lucky if they don't grow up with some infirmity." He seemed to find the one he was looking for. "Those are just a few of the things we need; the ones I can't think of right at this moment are listed here, in good detail. Figuring out what we don't have is the easy part."

Aya took the PADD and scrolled through it briefly, then handed it to Vak. "We'll get these to you as soon as we can. In the meantime, we'll also be needing records of the people in this camp. We can start taking down information in the next day or so, unless you've been keeping...?" She trailed off.

He snorted. "I've been struggling along with an archaic console for over two months. Half the time it doesn't work, and the other half we can't use it because power's running too low and we need it for the replicators. Now listen." He held Aya's gaze. "Your friends at that clinic of yours want to help us, this is what they can do. Most of these people here are separated from their families. A lot of the children have been unofficially adopted by strangers because we don't know where their parents are. There is no way for them to locate each other. We need a database between the camps to get them back together, which means we need working computer networks and a reliable power source. Get those lines of communication back up. Soon."

Aya nodded once. "We will."

"Good." He glanced outside at the line of people. Some of the edge faded from his expression. "I need to get back. Anything you can give will be much appreciated. Thank you."

Without another word, he walked out of the tent. Aya followed close behind, murmuring to herself. She walked with quick steps along the ruined wall; Jake and Vak kept stride with her, waiting.

They were nearing the edge of the camp when she stopped and turned to face them. "I'm going to stay here for a while. I'd like to do some scans and make a supply list of my own, maybe take some bacteria samples for analysis later. You two heading back?"

Vak nodded and gestured with the PADD. "Yeah. We'll put in the order."

"Thanks." She smiled briefly. "Later, Jake."

He waved after her as she walked along the camp's perimeter. Her tricorder was already open and shrilling in her hand, and her red hair gleamed against the gray landscape.

Jake watched her go for a moment. "Does she ever get tired?"

"Well, not around you," Vak said.

"Oh yeah?" Jake gave the Bolian a wry glance. "Does she get tired around you?"

Vak chuckled. "Sometimes. I have to catch her off guard, though. Come on, let's go. It'll be getting busy downtown."

They walked without speaking. For some time there was only the crunch of their boots in the gravel, and Jake found himself wishing that a wind would pick up and fill this noisy silence. In the end, however, he was glad it had been so quiet. Otherwise they might have never heard the tiny sound among the rubble.

"Hold on." Jake put out a hand, stopping them both. "What was that?"

"You heard it too?"

He listened harder. In a moment, there it was again; soft, feeble, barely audible. "Sounds like someone's crying."

Vak's voice dropped to an unthreatening murmur. "A young someone," he said. He pulled out his tricorder and scanned the area. "Over there. Go carefully."

They walked in that direction. The cry wasn't repeated. Jake found himself holding his breath and released it. "Hello?" he called. He tried to make his voice as gentle as possible.

No answer. Vak's pace slowed further as they reached the crumbled remains of a wide pillar. Carefully, he leaned on one of the larger stone fragments and looked over it.

An egg-sized stone came flying up and hit him in the forehead, dead center.

"Hey!" Vak was around the pillar in a moment and had his hand on the Cardassian child's arm. The boy yelped in anger and struggled.

"Let go of me! Let go!"

"Easy, easy." Vak grinned. "That's a great aim you have there. I didn't mean to scare you."

The boy looked insulted. "I'm not scared of you! Let go! Leave us alone!"

"Us?" Jake saw the girl as soon as the word left his mouth. She was curled up against the meager shelter of the pillar. She was smaller than the boy, her arms looking thin and frail as she hugged herself. Her face was streaked with tears, and she was shivering.

Vak released the boy and sat back on his heels, giving him room but staying close enough to stop him if he tried to run again. "We're not going to hurt you. Are you two all right? We heard someone crying."

"You stay away from her," the boy demanded. He gave Jake a glare, warning him back. "I'm taking care of her."

"I know you are," said Jake. "It's all right. We just want to help." He turned toward the little girl and crouched down a safe distance away. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

The boy answered for her. There was desperation in his voice. "She'll be fine. I just need to find us some food. That's all."

"We can get you food, if you need it," Vak said cheerfully. "And medicine, too. We're on our way to a hospital, actually. You can come with us and rest for a while."

The spark of interest in the boy's eyes was undeniable. Still, he drew back, ready to fight his way free if he had to. His jaw clenched. "The other aliens said that and they wouldn't let me go."

Jake and Vak exchanged a startled glance. "Other aliens?" Jake said. "You mean not from the Federation?"

"I don't know," the boy said. "I don't care. It doesn't matter – I got out, and I'm not going back. We're staying here."

Vak lifted his hands. "Don't worry, we're not going to force you to go anywhere. But if someone is trying to capture you for some reason, you might not want to be out here by yourself. Our hospital is run by Cardassians; there are people in charge up there, people who can help. If you come with us, we'll get you fed and make your friend well again, and you can tell us what happened."

The boy's resolve faltered. All at once, he looked as young as he really was. "I have to stay with her the whole time. You're not separating us, do you understand?"

Vak nodded, his face solemn. "Of course. You take care of her, we know that. Will you come?"

The boy hesitated. Then he lifted his chin proudly, and his eyes flashed. "Well, okay. Okay."

*****

"Doctor?"

Ptacek glanced up from the flickering computer monitor and blinked as her eyes adjusted from the bright panel to the murky room. "Yes?"

Nurse Eske stood in front of her, looking tired but relatively energetic, all things considered. "If you have a moment, we have a few new patients. Two kids – a few minor injuries, nothing horribly serious. I'd take them myself but the generators have been giving us trouble...."

"Giving you trouble? Imagine that." Ptacek smiled wryly. "I'll take care of the children – not a problem. Two of them, you said? How old are they?"

"The boy's about ten," Eske said, leading the way toward the stern chamber that had ironically been appointed as the pediatric ward. "He's in pretty good shape, actually – a few small abrasions, bruises, but other than that he's fine. M'at took care of him earlier, but he refused to leave the girl. She's eight, maybe nine."

"What's her condition?"

"Not quite as good. Dehydrated, hasn't eaten in a day or two. She's exhausted, understandably, but she should be fine."

"Mm-hm." Ptacek tugged her blue uniform sleeves up her bluer arms with a grimace; she was even more sensitive to the heat then her Human colleagues were, and the synthetic fabric was beginning to prickle. "Do me a favor – prepare the girl an intravenous rehydration patch. 1300 milliliters salt solution and 5% glucose supplement, at least to start with. She'll probably be able to handle some broth after that. Oh," she said as an afterthought, before Eske could leave, "and a glass of that - what was it called? Rokassa juice. As cold as you can get it."

Eske frowned. "Rokassa? Won't that be too acidic for her at this point?"

"Yes, it would be," Ptacek grinned back. "But it's for me."

The nurse laughed, pausing by the door of the ward. "Ah, I see. Well, if you like that stuff – I find it undrinkable. Back in a moment."

"Thank you, Nurse." With a nod, Dr. Ptacek stepped into the somewhat brighter atmosphere of the children's room.

They'd at least tried to make the place seem friendlier, she had to admit. There were no real windows to speak of in this place, just a length of grating near the ceiling on one wall that allowed a gloomy gray light. But several lamps had been brought in and placed in the darker corners, and Ptacek herself had made sure the light they gave was cheerful but soft. In any other situation she would have wished for toys or pictures to lighten the mood, but a few hours of examining Cardassian children convinced her that such frivolous luxuries would be looked on with disdain, if they weren't ignored completely. The children that were well enough created their own amusement – complicated word games, usually. No doubt designed to strengthen the military strategy of the Cardassian mind. The sick children always played quietly, calmly, on their best behavior. Ptacek would have almost preferred a little rowdiness.

Right now, though, most of the children in the room were sleeping in their cots. Almost completely without the feverish tossing of one week ago, she noted, and her spirits lifted a little. Progress. She walked across the room to the one real biobed they'd been able to set up here, where M'at was scanning a young Cardassian girl. An older boy hovered near the medic's elbow, his face concerned.

"Is she going to be okay?" the boy demanded of Ptacek, before she had a chance to speak.

The doctor smiled encouragingly, countering his aggressive tone. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Are you her brother?"

"I may as well be," he shot back. From her seat on the table, the girl watched the conversation with attentive eyes, not saying a word. Ptacek directed her smile to M'at, pointedly.

"She'll be all right," the medic confirmed. "She just needs some fluids, a good night's rest. And you," he continued sternly, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, "should get cleaned up. Your friend will be waiting for you when you get back."

The boy considered this, then frowned at Ptacek again. "You'll take care of her?"

"I promise," the Andorian replied solemnly, to comfort both children. "You can come right back when you're finished. All right?"

M'at tugged gently on the boy's arm; he scowled and looked ready to pull away, then nodded resolutely. "I'll be right back," he told the girl. "Don't be scared." With a parting glance, he let the medic lead him out of the room. Ptacek watched them go for a moment, then turned back to the biobed.

"Hello," she said warmly. "I'm Dr. Ptacek. Nurse Eske tells me you aren't feeling well."

The girl's eyes never left the doctor's face. "I'm all right," she said after a long moment.

And that was that. Ptacek grinned again, a little ruefully – these children could be studies in austerity, especially when around strangers. She kept her voice pleasant and soothing as she reached out to turn the child's head gently to the left and right, looking her over. "I know you are. We're just going to get you cleaned up and fed."

The girl didn't reply. A series of long scratches stretched across her cheek, just below her right eyeridge; not very deep, but ugly enough to look painful. Ptacek pursed her lips and reached for a sealed container where she kept disinfectant swipes. "I'm going to fix these first," she explained. "I'll clean them off to avoid infection, then close the skin with a dermal regenerator." She handed the small instrument to the girl as she spoke, letting her examine it as she wrapped the swipe around two fingers. "This might sting just a little."

Even so, the girl held still and didn't even flinch as Ptacek dabbed the dirt and clotted blood away from the wound. The doctor smiled slightly to herself as she worked. She had never expected to think of a Cardassian – a ridged, gray-skinned Cardassian – as beautiful; but there it was. The child's eyes shone a delicate amber color, and the ridges that curved gently across her brow and over her forehead glowed warmly, like mother-of-pearl.

Ptacek brushed the matted hair away from those serious young eyes and continued her ministrations to a small cut at her temple. "You know, you're a very pretty little girl," she said, keeping her tone appropriately neutral. "Do you have a name?"

The Cardassian child certainly wasn't afraid, not this one; she gazed steadily back, curiosity curling the corners of her mouth into a frown. "You're blue," she said.

That certainly wasn't the answer Ptacek was expecting. She laughed. "So I am," she said. "And it's a very nice color to be, don't you think?"

A shy smile appeared for the briefest of moments, then retreated. It looked like the girl was opening up. Good.

"In fact," and Ptacek lowered her voice conspiratorially, "can you keep a secret? My given name means 'dawn sky' in Andorian. The sky on my world is light blue in the early morning, just before the sun rises. So you see, I'm blue in more ways than one."

The girl's eyes widened slightly. "Really?" she said. "Our sky is never blue."

A shadow passed over her face as she spoke, and Ptacek restrained a sigh. The Cardassian sky hadn't been much of any color since the end of the war. She touched the girl's arm in a confiding manner. "I'm sure the sky here is lovely," she said. "And it will clear up in no time, you'll see. You can teach me a few Cardassian words about the sky then, what do you think?"

The girl considered this. "All right," she said solemnly. Then she gave Ptacek a skeptical look. "But you haven't told me the Andorian word for 'sky' yet. The one that you're named after."

"Oh, you're right, I haven't." The doctor dipped her antennae in thought, tracing the swipe along the teardrop crest of the girl's forehead. "Are you sure I can tell you? We Andorians don't reveal our given names very easily. Telling you my name would be a very important secret, like a pact."

"But then I'd tell you mine," the girl stated, puzzled that confidentiality was even a concern. "It's like giving your word. A Cardassian doesn't go back on her word."

Dukat did. Dukat went back on his word. But Ptacek met the girl's earnest gaze and let the angry thought fall to the side. "Okay," she said gravely. "I think I can trust you." Glancing around, she leaned close and whispered into her ear. "My name is Ndali."

The girl mouthed the name carefully. Then she nodded in satisfaction and leaned forward. "My name is Ibis."

The name suited her very well. The doctor held out a hand and Ibis grasped it in greeting. "I'm very glad to meet you," Ndali said. "And you can trust me to keep our pact. I promise."

Ibis smiled back.

*****

“Would you please keep still?”

The voice was friendly enough, but Kehin thought he could hear a slightly irritated note as the Starfleet medic attempted to wipe his face with a damp, sweet-smelling cloth. They were the only ones in this small treatment room at the moment, but Kehin wished there were someone else that the alien could be looking after at the moment. He fidgeted restlessly in his chair.

“But I want to talk to someone,” he said. “Now.”

The medic – M’at, he said his name was – stopped what he was doing and put a comforting hand on Kehin’s shoulder. “You can always talk to me, if you like. You must be worried about your friend, but she really is in good hands.”

Kehin shook his head, a little annoyed that the alien was talking to him like he was a baby. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, whatever the matter is, it can wait until you’re cleaned up,” M’at told him in slightly sterner tones, though there was a smile on his lips. "Why don't you tell me what you were doing out there? Are you looking for your parents?”

Kehin frowned. “My parents are dead.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” M'at stopped wiping. “Do you have any other relatives, people who could look after you?”

“No. The Jem’Hadar killed them. But I have Ibis,” he added. “She’s kind of like a sister. Have you finished yet?”

“Nearly. And perhaps when you’re clean, we can go and see someone – perhaps find a family who can look after you for a while, just until Ibis is better....”

“No!” Kehin interrupted. He wondered if this medic was even listening to him. “I’d rather just stay here. I won’t get in the way. And I don’t want to go anywhere else. I want to speak to someone in charge!” He spoke with as much forcefulness as his tired mind could muster.

M’at sighed in defeat. “What is it? Is it something important?”

Kehin was about to nod when something caught his attention. Two voices in the corridor, just about to come into the room by the sound of it. He swung himself around in his chair, listening to their conversation.

“There must be some way of speeding up the supply to the refugee camps. We need to cut down the waiting times.” The first voice sounded… different, somehow, not like the voices Kehin was used to. The second was instantly recognizable as Cardassian.

“My dear doctor, it’s simply a matter of distribution – and that is something that we are already proceeding with as quickly as we can. The teams can’t just throw supplies at people. Getting the computers operational will help more than anything else."

As the speakers walked into the room, Kehin’s eyes lit up. One was a Human – one of the strange people that were visible almost everywhere these days. This one was wearing the grayish uniform that the other people around here wore, with a medical bag slung over his shoulder. He was talking to a Cardassian whose clothes looked quite shabby in comparison to the Human’s, but neater than most. That, plus the fact that the Human was apparently a doctor, made Kehin realize that these were probably important people of some kind. He slipped off his chair, ignoring M’at’s exasperated noises, and moved until he stood directly in their path.

“Well, what if we start training more personnel to hand out the supplies? If people were to volunteer, we might—”

The doctor might have walked right into him, as engrossed as he was in the conversation. "Excuse me," Kehin said.

The doctor stopped short. Kehin watched as he crouched himself down a little until they were at an equal eye-level. A quick smile crossed the doctor's face; it seemed sincere enough. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

Kehin gazed at him firmly. "I have to talk to you."

The smile widened. "I see. How may I help you?" As he spoke, he offered his hand. Kehin looked at it, realized that he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do with it, and was thoroughly mystified when the Human reached out and shook his hand. He dismissed it as some strange ritual and chose to ignore the amused look on the Cardassian’s face.

“My name is Kehin; I came here with my friend Ibis this morning."

“Yes, they told me about you and your friend – it’s nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Julian Bashir, and this is Mr. Garak,” he said, indicating the Cardassian. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“The... aliens.” He almost cringed at the word – so childish! – but he didn’t have any other name for them. He remembered learning a little about them in school, but there was so much he'd forgotten. They'd never really interested him until now.

“Aliens?” Dr. Bashir’s brow creased in puzzlement. “You mean the medics here?”

“No, the people who took me out into the plains. The people with the ears.”

Kehin waited for an answer. They stared at him blankly. He sighed. “I like collecting things. After the war ended, I found a lot of other objects that the Jem’Hadar and the Breen left behind, and I thought I could sell them or swap them for food for Ibis and myself. I spoke to some of the other children who do the same thing, and they told me that there were aliens who were interested in the things we were finding. They took me along to see them, and I sold them a few of the objects I’d found. They gave me a bottle of water for them.”

Mr. Garak took a step closer, his pale eyes cautious. “You mean that you collect artifacts from the war.”

“Yes – lots of things like that. Unit badges from the old barracks, mostly.” Kehin couldn’t help but smile to himself. “I kept finding objects for them, things that even the other children couldn’t get hold of, and they were very pleased with me. They said that they’d make sure that I didn’t have to go hungry any more. As long as I worked for them. I thought they meant finding souvenirs. I’m good at that.” He shifted his feet. “They took me to a building out in the brushland, away from the city – they said that I’d have to wait there for a while. They took me to a room, and they gave me these new clothes. There were other children, all dressed like me.”

“What happened?” Dr. Bashir said softly.

“Nothing, really. We just waited there. But I didn’t like it – we weren’t allowed to leave. They kept the door locked up so we couldn’t get out. Some of the children who had been there longer were frightened; they'd heard the aliens talking about us, saying that we were being sent away. I didn't want to leave Ibis, but if I'd told them about her they would have found her and locked her up too.” Kehin shivered. “I don’t like them. I’m worried about the other children – I escaped, but I couldn’t bring them with me."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. When Mr. Garak finally broke the silence, he was quiet, and yet sounded more dangerous than anyone Kehin had ever met. “A slave market,” he said to the doctor. “Someone’s found a nice little source of income. They’ll keep reeling them in, promising them an escape. Then they’ll take the children to some other system, and sell them to whatever bidder they can find.”

“Who's behind this?” Dr. Bashir said, anger evident in his voice.

Mr. Garak smiled grimly. “Oh, I have an idea.”

“What about the others? What’s going to happen to them?” Kehin demanded.

Dr. Bashir looked back at him. “Kehin, do you remember where they took you?”

Kehin nodded eagerly. ”It's west. West of here. I remember. The sun was rising behind the city when I left."

"Perceptive – well done," Mr. Garak said. "If we went with you, do you think you could find that place again?"

Kehin thought of the building, the aliens, the other children trapped out there. He frowned. “I’ll find them. I’m good at finding things.”

Chapter Three

After you read this episode, please Leave Feedback for the authors.