“I was afraid you might say that.” Tanj sighed. “Aoi did say something else, and I think you’ll agree that this bears investigation. Apparently the People take children from the worlds they visit. The advice is that you should put a watch on all the children on DS9, or else they’ll take some of them.”
“That,” said Crusher hotly, “is almost certainly a lie.” She turned angrily to her commanding officer. “Captain, this is the kind of thing that used to be said historically about Romani people on Earth.”
“Romani?”
“One of our ethnic groups. They’re travelers too, and historically they suffered dreadfully as a result of this kind of bigotry—up to and including genocide. People accused them of stealing children and it was nothing more than outright racism. People would see blond children among them and say they couldn’t be Romani. Sometimes the children were taken away from their parents, all in the name of caring for them. But then DNA tests would prove they were Romani after all.”
Ro ran her hand through her hair. “But we know that there are children traveling with Oioli and the others that they’re not related to—”
“You know better than to believe this. It’s what oppressors always say about oppressed groups rather than face up to their own guilt. Everything Aoi has said about the People . . . I bet the Cardassians used to say the same kind of things about Bajorans—that they were shiftless, that they couldn’t be trusted. I bet Bajorans were accused of harming Cardassian children or even stealing them. Weren’t there cases of Cardassian orphans left on Bajor—”
Ro waved a hand to stop the flow. “You’re right that casual racism about oppressed groups doesn’t play well with me, but then neither does kidnapping. If there’s a question mark over the legitimacy of their custody of any of these children, that’s something we need to find out.”
“And do what?” Crusher said. “What does the Prime Directive allow us to do, exactly? We’re not supposed to get involved—”
“The Prime Directive is a nice ideal, but have you noticed it never works in practice? We’re already involved.”
“And some of us are more involved than others,” said Tanj. “Another point that I need to impress upon you both is that the Chain is significantly more advanced technologically than the Federation. Their ship is vast, and we simply have no idea of the extent of its capabilities.” Tanj looked uncomfortable. “I can’t shake the feeling that there is a veiled threat behind everything Aoi is saying, and I’m terrified that any refusal to assist them might give an excuse for reprisals—”
“If that’s the case, then Aoi is making a mistake,” said Ro firmly. “I won’t be threatened into any course of action. I certainly won’t hand over children at gunpoint. Tey Aoi needs to read up on the Occupation—”
“May I respectfully point out that you are not the ones in Aoi’s immediate firing line?” Tanj said. “The Athene Donald is not equipped in any way to respond to Aoi’s threats. We are a research and exploration vessel.”
Ro sighed. “I take your point. Let me consider all this, Doctor Tanj. I’ll get back to you before the end of the day, station time. DS9 out.”
Ro turned to her CMO. “Beverly, you’ve carried out medicals on most of the People. Can you prove one way or another whether the children are related to the adults?”
There was a moment’s hesitation.
“Beverly?”
“Of course I can,” said Crusher. “But I’m not sure it’s an ethical use of my medical data. And it wouldn’t tell us anything about whether they have been legitimately adopted or not—”
“Legality is in the eye of the beholder. I think we can assume that the People will say the children are legitimately adopted, and that Aoi will say that they’re not.”
Crusher shook her head. “I won’t do it, Laren. It’s not right—
“Beverly, you heard what Tanj said. Her ship might be in danger if we don’t act.”
“You said yourself that you wouldn’t respond to a threat.”
“No, but I won’t willfully put the crew of the Athene Donald at risk either—”
“Let me speak to the People first,” urged Crusher. “Let me get their side of the story. We owe it to them—they’ve been completely frank with us so far.”
“Not completely,” said Ro.
“I thought we agreed that concealing Corazame was a misunderstanding.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Ro shrugged. “Do you know why they left the Chain? Neither do I. If they’re taking children away from their parents, that would explain their reluctance to tell us why they left.” Ro held out her hands. “I’m a child of the Occupation, Beverly. That’s not going to happen on my watch.”
* * *
Crusher cross-checked her medical files. What Aoi had said was true: none of the Open Sky children was genetically related to any of the adults. Further checks confirmed what she already knew: some of the children were the only members of their species traveling with the People. They were thus certainly not traveling with any relatives. But there was no proof that any of them had been taken away from their families against their will.
When Crusher reported back to Ro, the captain was ready to move at once to return the children to the Chain. But support for Crusher came from an unlikely quarter: Odo, who was present in Ro’s office when the doctor arrived, and listened to Crusher’s arguments with interest and sympathy.
“I know that this presses particular buttons, Laren,” Crusher said.
“You bet it does,” Ro said.
“But families are complicated. They’re not all cut to the same size.” Crusher took a deep breath. “Look at my own family. René, right now, is living a long way away from his mother. Do you judge me for those choices, Laren?”
“Of course not! It’s none of my business! Besides, isn’t he with his father?”
“Does a child have to be a blood relative to be with family? What about adopted children? You don’t discount those relationships, surely?”
“You know I don’t—”
“We don’t know enough about the People. We don’t even know if family means remotely the same thing to them as it does to us.”
“Doctor Crusher’s right,” said Odo quietly. “Family is considerably more complicated than many of us allow for. The Great Link sent me out to explore the world of solids before I was even aware enough to know what I was. My childhood was spent in a laboratory. Who is my mother, Captain Ro? Who is my father? Doctor Mora was the closest, and he had me performing tricks for his Cardassian paymasters. What sort of family was that?” Odo gave an odd smile. “In truth, when I think of family, I think of the time I spent here on DS9.” He frowned. “I would ask you not to repeat that to Quark.”
“All right,” said Ro, “I take the points you’re both making. But Aoi has made some serious accusations. Why do that?”
“There could be thousands of reasons,” said Crusher. “The People could be political refugees. They could be like the Romani, victims of racism or some other bigotry. Oh, I don’t know, Laren! But let me talk to Oioli before you do anything. There are always two sides to a story.”
Ro sighed. “All right. But remember that the clock is ticking on this. Aoi wants an answer—and I have to think of my responsibility to the people traveling on the Athene Donald.”
When the doctor took her questions to the People, Ioile seemed almost angry: the first sign of anger that she had seen from any of them. Oioli, however, responded calmly.
“Let me tell you, Beverly, how we came to our children. They are the lost from many worlds, the homeless and unwanted. We found some of them on rubbish dumps, eating only garbage. Other sipped from dirty streams. Others we found starving. The litter of the universe—the thrown away, the refuse. But not to us.” Oioli smiled. “We are their home. They are safe among us. They eat, they drink, they play and laugh. They are much loved and wanted.”
“I
have no reason to doubt them,” Crusher said to Ro, when she reported back on this interview. “And no evidence to show that what they’ve said is untrue.” Carefully, she watched Ro as the Bajoran woman considered what she had heard. “You’ve seen those children, Laren,” she said softly. “It’s exactly as Oioli says: they eat, they drink, they play and laugh. They are much loved and wanted.”
“I have sympathy for the People,” Ro said at last, and with a little difficulty. “Any Bajoran of my background would. You spent a lot of time wishing someone would appear from nowhere to take you away . . .” She laughed, rather bitterly. “Where were the People when I needed them, eh?”
“There was Starfleet,” said Crusher gently and with great sympathy. Her situation was hardly comparable to Ro’s, but she knew how she had found a home there after her parents’ death. “They came.”
“Eventually,” Ro replied dryly. “But that makes me wonder—is this really the best way of life for these children? Wandering about the universe, without access to basic health care or any structure?”
“They are much loved and wanted,” Crusher simply said again.
“But what about their education? What about security or stability? These were things I craved as a child. That’s what Starfleet gave me. In time.”
“Who are we to say that these children are not receiving an education?” Crusher said. “Think of the worlds they must have seen. They’re plainly secure—I’ve don’t think I’ve seen happier children in my life, not even on board the Enterprise, with all its riches!” Crusher smiled. “And sometimes, you know, it’s that regimentation that people need to escape. That isn’t best for them—or their children. They find their own way of life, their own structures—and they pass those on, with love and care.”
“I’ve still got many questions,” Ro said. “Are all these children unwanted? There might be relatives on their homeworlds, hoping one day to be seeing them again—”
“I doubt it,” said Crusher. “I don’t think anyone wanted these children until the People arrived.”
“And shouldn’t they be settled? Is it even fair to drag them around the universe on these ships?”
“Like we do on our starships?” Crusher shook her head. “You can’t hand these children over to Aoi, Laren. They’re already home. And—most of all—they’re not pawns to be used to protect one of our ships.”
Ro sighed. “I know, I know. But the simple fact is that ship is still out there—and it’s still undefended. So what do I do?”
“What you always do,” said Crusher. “Make your decision. And stand firm.”
Ro nodded. She had made her decision. Crusher had read her well: no child was going to be removed from his or her home while Ro Laren was in charge. The Chain would have to find a way to get around to liking that. Events, however, were about to overtake them all.
* * *
Later, Pulaski would wonder what their visitor was doing wandering down a quiet corridor of the Athene Donald away from the rest of the group over from the Chain ship. Perhaps she (or he, or whatever pronouns these damned people used, and where was a fully trained xenolinguist when you needed one? Sidetracked into spying, that’s where) had simply got lost looking for the restroom, or perhaps the reasons for straying were more dubious. But there it was: one of the visitors from the extremely powerful spaceship looming menacingly beside the little vessel had been attacked on board their ship, and nobody knew who was to blame.
Everybody was nevertheless more than ready to make their suspicions known. “My strong advice,” said Alden (and he was plainly back in the role of Starfleet Intelligence officer; his body language had shifted to upright and unyielding), “is that you check Metiger’s movements at the time the assault occurred.”
Pulaski threw her hands up in disbelief. “Here we go again! You think that our guest wouldn’t have noticed a giant glowing alien attacking them?”
“Tzenkethi can dim their skin tones to whatever hue they like, if the need arises,” Alden said. “Metiger’s status requires that she put on this show, but she can be as dull as one of their service grades if it suits her. I’ve no doubt we’ll find that she is in some way responsible—”
“Poppycock!”
“You’d be wise to listen to me when I talk about the Tzenkethi, Doctor Pulaski—”
“Back to titles, is it? Well, Commander Alden, you’d be wise to put some of your suspicions behind you—”
“Be quiet, both of you!”
Pulaski had never heard Tanj use so sharp a tone of voice before. Alden too was clearly surprised to see the usually conciliatory Trill so angry.
“I’m sick of all this quarreling,” Tanj said. “The pair of you will wreck this mission before it’s had a chance! And I’m not having that. Not after all the work I’ve put into assembling this crew and putting together this mission. You two will speak to each other civilly and work with each other as colleagues or else I’ll send you back now. I mean it, Kitty! You can push my patience too far, you know!”
“I’m sorry, Maurita.” Pulaski took a deep breath. “I’m on my best behavior now. I promise.”
“About time. We’ll find out together”—she gave both Pulaski and Alden a fierce look—“who is responsible for this assault. Meanwhile, I suggest that we do our utmost to assure Aoi that this is the case—”
“Doctor Tanj,” said Alden, “I’d like to assume responsibility for the investigation.”
Tanj drew herself up to her full height. “Commander Alden,” she said magisterially, “do not try my patience more than you have already. I have gone out of my way to accommodate you. The Athene Donald has a security team who are more than capable of conducting any investigation. Leave them to it.”
Alden subsided.
“Kitty, don’t smirk.”
“Sorry.”
“And put on your most apologetic face, please. I’d like you there when I speak to Aoi, and I’d like you to be supportive.”
“Of course.”
But Aoi, when Tanj was put through, was more concerned with other matters. “The best apology that can be given is that the People of the Open Sky are handed over. Arrange this, please.”
“I don’t understand,” said Tanj, after Aoi cut the comm. “You would think that Aoi would care more that one of their number had been attacked. So why so casual?” She frowned. “Almost uncaring.”
“Ours is not to reason why,” said Pulaski. “Actually, forget I said that. I’ve remembered the next line.”
“Please don’t tell me.” Tanj sighed. “I’d better contact Captain Ro. But I don’t think she’s going to like this ultimatum.”
* * *
At that precise moment, the fate of the People was the least of Ro’s problems, since she was, at that precise moment, sitting in front of a view screen getting bawled out by a furious castellan.
“I believe,” said Elim Garak (and how did he make his tone so chilly?), “that I indicated that a behind-the-scenes resolution to this matter was what I wanted. And has that happened? No. On the one hand I have half of the assembly demanding to know why I seem to care nothing for the fate of those brave soldiers who faithfully served the Union, and on the other hand I have a very stiff message from a Major Varis asking why Cardassian citizens are besieging the Romulan consulate on DS9—”
Ro risked an interruption. “Sir, ‘besieging’ is hardly the right word. There was a minor demonstration—”
“One that ended in arrests, I understand, on both sides. And I’m sure I don’t need to say precisely how well that’s playing on Prime. The Bajoran commander of Deep Space 9—of Terok Nor!—is arresting Cardassian citizens who are doing nothing more than drawing attention to their plight.”
“This isn’t Terok Nor,” Ro pointed out.
“You know that, and I know that, and everyone saying it knows that, but if it means a point scored off the castellan, then nobody cares.”
Odo, sitting beside Ro, looked uncomfortable. “Garak, as muc
h as it pains me to say this, I feel I should apologize. If I hadn’t asked you to assist us, you would not be in this position.”
The apology seemed to calm the castellan down slightly. “I appreciate that, Odo. But, to be fair, it sounds as if Mhevita Pa’Dan and her friends would have resorted to these tactics whether I knew about their cause or not. At least this way I haven’t been entirely uninformed.” The castellan sighed. “Nevertheless, one interpretation of these events—and one that my opponents are very keen to make the accepted one—is that the Romulan diplomatic service is running rings around my office.” He pursed his lips. “This is hardly the kind of message I want to be sending this close to my speech. It’s not the kind of message I want to be sending at all.” He tutted. “The Romulans, of all people! The notion that they could be outmaneuvering me is a personal affront!”
“I’ll speak again to Mhevita,” said Odo.
“If you could impress upon her that her castellan is doing everything within his considerable—but thankfully constrained—power that he can to help, I would be grateful.”
“It would be helpful if I could tell Mhevita that some progress is being made,” Odo said. “Are you getting anywhere, Garak?”
“Not really. No, that’s inaccurate. At least Major Varis is now in contact with my people. She was rather a dead end before this. I wondered why she was being so awkward and then I remembered she is a Romulan.”
“We had the same experience with her,” Ro said. “She made no response to my apology.”
“My people will try to keep her talking. Or posturing. Or whatever it takes to keep communications open. In the meantime, Odo, please, get this friend of yours under control! You may not like the idea of me as castellan—”
“Very insightful of you.”
“But I can assure you that you’d like some of the alternatives considerably less. I’m doing all I can.”
Garak cut the channel and Ro turned to Odo. “Do you think Pa’Dan will be receptive to this?”
Odo frowned. “I honestly don’t know. It’s not much, is it?”
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