"But how can they take her there when she's so sick? A Temple healer would fix everything. It's a stupid agreement."
"Those who required that such an agreement be made care more for what your sister represents than for who she truly is. They will protect their share in the symbol, not the child. If she lives, they will do their best to turn her to their own purposes. If she dies, she will still give them what they want."
"Could one of the healer-monks save Dejana?" the boy insisted.
"How to know? To travel here, against the express directive of one's superior, would mean the end of one's safe and simple life within the Temple."
"Nothing will be safe or simple if they let Dejana die! The whole planet could be thrown into war."
The monk made a gesture casting aside all blame. "Some only see as far as their own comforts and desires, and no farther."
Cedra was no longer on the point of tears. He was shaking with rage. "A healer who won't come because he's afraid for himself? Dr. Bashir was never like that. Someone who holds back his gifts because he doesn't want to have his comfortable life disturbed? That's selfish!"
"And if he were to send another healer in his place?" the monk asked casually. "Not a skilled healer, a healer in name only, would that do?"
"No!" Cedra stamped his foot. "That would make it worse! Anyone he treated would be depending on him to be a true healer, but he wouldn't be able to help them at all. He might hurt them instead. It would be—it would be—"
"The plan of a selfish man?" the monk inquired. "Or the work of a frightened child?"
All the blood left Cedra's cheeks. His hand rose to his lips to silence his own words. The awful look of guilt that filled his eyes turned swiftly to a grimace of fury. "I hate you!" he screamed at the monk, and ran from the shrine.
"I know," the monk said to the wildly swinging threads of crystal across the doorway. "I have that effect on many people." He raised his hand and the sparkling strands hung straight and still. He bent to blow out the candle, and vanished into the shadows.
CHAPTER 16
DR. BASHIR stepped away from Dejana's bed and turned to Commander Sisko and Lieutenant Dax. "That's it," he said.
Sisko came near the bed and looked down at the girl. Dejana's hair was a damp tangle, her face the color of cheese. She tossed her head from side to side, mumbling the way Jake sometimes did when his nightmares grew too vivid and took him back to the time of his mother's death. Sisko wondered what sort of visions the fever had called up to disturb this unlucky child's much-needed rest. She had lost a mother, too, and a father, and a whole way of life.
He looked back at Bashir. "What now?"
Dr. Bashir was washing his hands. "Now we wait," he said.
Sisko's eyes went back to Dejana. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips, cracked and dry, continued to mouth unintelligible syllables. He laid his hand on her forehead and stroked away the clinging wisps and tendrils of hair.
Sometimes the touch of his hand freed Jake from the grasp of nightmare. Jake was not Dejana; Sisko felt the heat devouring her alive before she groaned and wrenched her head aside. He fetched some water in a cup and ran a moistened finger over her lips.
"Sir—" Dr. Bashir was at his elbow. "We don't yet know whether this virus can live in human hosts as well as Bajorans. Perhaps you'd better—"
"You were exposed to it more times and more closely than anyone," Sisko said. "Have you felt any ill effects?"
"No, and neither has Ensign Kahrimanis," Bashir admitted. "Lieutenant Dax's physiology is another story altogether, of course. But we're in the realm of many unknowns here. Some microorganisms are choosy about their hosts, some are adaptable enough to cross any borders. If humans can contract this from Bajorans, we have no idea about how long the incubation period might be or how it would manifest itself at first. Dax tells me that Dejana's second bout with the fever began with the symptoms of the common cold."
"Talk about adaptable," Dax remarked.
"This is serious, Doctor," Sisko said. "You're telling me that we may have brought a highly contagious, adaptable, potentially fatal disease aboard DS9."
Dr. Bashir held up his hand. "I've already organized an inoculation program for all Bajoran residents of the station. As for members of other races, I don't think there's much danger. Talis Dejana's political and medical isolation worked in our favor there."
"Isolation?" Sisko frowned. "Not while Vung had her. That blasted Ferengi moved the child from one hidden spot to another aboard this station. We don't even know half the places he kept her while she was cloaked. How many people passed right by her and never knew?"
"How many of them have reboarded their starships and moved on?" Dax added. "Vung too."
Sisko closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "All right," he said, stretching out his hands to push away the ever-mounting possibility of a potential interplanetary epidemic. "We'll deal with this later. For the moment, our only concern is here, one case, one child."
"If this antibody works at all like the first, we ought to see a change fairly soon," Dax said.
"I don't know if we can rely on that," Dr. Bashir said. "Remember, we're dealing with a version of the virus that's gone an extra evolutionary step. It may be harder to kill than the previous generation. And I want a sure kill. If the antibody only drives the disease into a second period of dormancy, this child will know it later. No half measures, no future surprises; I want to give her back her life."
"She'll be closely monitored once she's taken to the Temple," Dax said. "The Bajoran monks who belong to the healing orders are excellent physicians, in their way."
"The Temple … how long until she has to be delivered there?" Bashir asked.
"How long before she can be safely moved?" Commander Sisko countered.
"The eve of Nis Thamar," Dax replied with crisp practicality. "How many hours until sunset over the Temple precincts?"
"No," said Sisko. "If there's any danger to moving this girl, she stays where she is. I'll meet with the Dessin-ka personally to arrange a compromise. They must be made to see that it's better to put off the Nekor's presentation at the Temple if it means seeing her healthy and alive. I refuse to risk a child's life to meet an artificial deadline."
"And what if that child's life buys peace or war for Bajor?" Kejan Ulli stepped into the infirmary and strode past Sisko, Dax, and Bashir to stand at the foot of Dejana's bed. "So here she is. May the Prophets have mercy on you for what you have done to her."
"What are you doing here?" Sisko demanded. "You're in violation of the accord."
"The same accord you were just proposing to ignore yourself," the Dessin-ka agent reminded him. "I do not belong to any of the formal religious orders. So long as I did not come here with my sole purpose to see the Nekor, I am not breaking the letter of the accord. Besides, she does not look at all susceptible to political influences now. Her death will be on you."
"She's not going to die!" Dr. Bashir cried.
"Why not? Because it would put the Federation at a disadvantage if she did?" He took a step toward Dr. Bashir. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure."
Bashir regarded the heavyset Bajoran askance. "I'm Dr. Julian Bashir, the station medical officer."
"Not the Dr. Bashir!" Kejan Ulli's delight was spread on too thickly to be real. "Why, you're a legend. Reports arrive at the capitol daily describing your work in the refugee camps of the Kaladrys Valley. It's been having quite an interesting effect on the political situation. Some folk are starting to realize that our people's distress didn't magically end with the departure of the Cardassians. They're beginning to remember that while the council enjoys comfort, there are Bajorans whose only comfort is a half-filled belly and the thought that they won't have to live forever. This is making the government distinctly uncomfortable. My compliments, sir." He showed a wolfish leer.
"That was never my intent," Dr. Bashir replied hotly.
"No matter. You still have my admiration, and my thanks. Yo
u have not only caused the government to lose face, but your prolonged stay on Bajor kept you from being here to monitor the Nekor's health. When she dies, it will be a double blow to the provisional government and the Federation."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you." Commander Sisko didn't need to frame it as a question. "The only reason you've been concerned about her health is how badly it will reflect on the Federation if she dies. And yet Major Kira tells me that the Dessin-ka prefer to fight their political battles head-on, out in the open. They pride themselves on their honesty. So much subtlety doesn't ring true for them. Who are you really, Kejan Ulli? Whom do you really serve?"
The Bajoran's teeth sparkled. "Well done, Commander Sisko. I am a member of the Dessin-ka, you know; most of us are members of one sect or another. The funny thing about a group that puts such a high premium on honesty is how gullible they can be. They may not trust outsiders wholeheartedly, but they believe that everyone within their sect is trustworthy because only the Dessin-ka can be trusted. Circular reasoning like that provides a wonderful hiding place for my little group. Circular—ha!" He chuckled over a private joke. "We are just as much in favor of a strong military as the Dessin-ka, yet we find them a little—how to say it?—timid about their ultimate goals. They see their group as the only one pure enough to rule Bajor wisely. Once they have the power to rule, others may keep their own beliefs so long as they also keep the laws." He sniffed. "Milk-and-water politics! We believe that if Bajor is to be ruled well at all, the world itself must first be made pure."
"In your own image of purity, of course," Sisko muttered.
"There is no other. Is not The Circle the purest of forms?" He traced the symbol on the air.
"The circle …" Sisko sensed that KejanUlli was speaking of more significant matters than geometry.
"You will hear more of us, I promise. We have patience, Commander; we take our small victories where we may for the moment, but someday … We're already quite well placed in influential positions within the sects. I had hoped to take charge of the Nekor's upbringing once she was presented in the Temple. If it meant entering orders, so be it; the Dessin-ka would think I did it for them!" He relished the irony of it. "Think of how well we might have spread our message from her lips! But her death will be useful for us too. For one thing, it will do much to turn Bajor away from the Federation, just as the Federation might have done its best to turn Bajor away from The Circle and our truth."
"The Dessin-ka won't turn from the Federation after they hear how you've been using them."
Kejan Ulli's laugh, rang out sharp and loud in the infirmary. "And you'll expect them to believe you? An outsider's word against that of one of their own?"
"Commander Sisko isn't the only witness," Dr. Bashir said. "Lieutenant Dax and I—"
"Outsiders all." Kejan Ulli was unconcerned. "To the Dessin-ka, my word is my bond; yours are only noise and wind. Let the child live or die; my people will win either way."
"Damn," Julian muttered so that only Lieutenant Dax could hear him. "I wish Major Kira were here. The testimony of a Bajoran might do what ours can't."
"I think our friend Kejan made sure that Kira wasn't here before he opened up like that," Dax whispered back. "He is the thorough sort."
"I'll be going now," Kejan Ulli said. "I'm aboard Deep Space Nine for strictly business reasons and I have an appointment to keep with one of your local businessmen. It shouldn't take long. I want to be back in the capitol in time for the presentation of the Nekor." He curved his lips meaningfully around this last sentence and turned to leave.
He was almost bowled from his feet as the infirmary door opened and Cedra came barreling in. "Where's my sister? I want to see—" He stopped short and stared in horror at Dejana. "No," he breathed, his voice shaking. "No, she can't be dead."
"She isn't dead, son," Commander Sisko reassured him, one arm around the boy's shoulders. "Dr. Bashir has just given her an injection that should—that will heal her."
"No!" Cedra cast off Commander Sisko's arm under the highly interested eye of Kejan Ulli. "Dr. Bashir can't do this alone. We have to send to Bajor, to the Temple, for a healer!"
"Admirable faith," Kejan Ulli said, once more wearing the mask of the Nekor's devoted servant. "A shadow of the holy one's power has fallen over you, lad. The Prophets speak through your lips."
"I'm speaking!" Cedra shouted. "I'm speaking for myself and for Dejana. I won't let you play games with her life anymore! If a Bajoran Temple healer can save her, then send for one. But you won't, because all you care about is keeping this faction happy or not getting that faction mad. To the depths with all of them!"
"Cedra, you're upset," Dax said, trying to soothe him. "You can't help Dejana now. Dr. Bashir has done everything in his power. Come with me; we'll wait elsewhere." The Trill reached out to guide the boy away from his sister's sickbed.
"Ouch!"
Cedra leaped away as Lieutenant Dax held up a bleeding hand for all to see. "He bit me," she commented as if observing a new scientific phenomenon. Dr. Bashir stepped in quickly to treat the wound.
"Cedra, you must leave," Commander Sisko said severely. He tried to catch the boy by the back of his shirt, but Cedra danced out of range, dodging around the side of Dejana's bed.
"Stop that!" Dr. Bashir cried. "You'll knock a life-support feed loose." He, too, joined the hunt, only to have the child duck under his arm and come up on the other side with a mouthful of skin-frying curses. Kejan Ulli's dry, superior snickering filled the room.
His laughter died abruptly when Cedra snatched up an instrument from a nearby tray, sprang across the room, and jabbed it at his heart.
"You impertinent little—" Kejan Ulli brought his hand back for a heavy blow.
"Don't!" Dr. Bashir shouted. It was impossible to say which of the Bajorans he meant. Both froze.
"Listen to him," Cedra gritted. "He knows what this is." He shifted the angle of the wand. "And he knows what it can do."
"So do you, apparently," Kejan Ulli remarked coldly. "Would you care to enlighten me?"
"It's a surgical probe," Dr. Bashir said. "The boy saw me use it several times in the camp infirmary. It can make an incision of any depth and cut off excessive bleeding as it goes."
"Which means that when I cut out your heart, at least you won't bleed to death," Cedra informed Kejan Ulli.
"Child, why threaten me?" the man wheedled, his entire demeanor undergoing a radical change. "I am your friend, your advocate. I join my voice to yours in demanding the services of a Temple healer for your sister."
"You're a damned liar," Cedra returned. "You're no one's friend but your own." He glared at the others. "Just like all of you!"
"Cedra, put that down," Dr. Bashir said. He took a step toward the boy. Cedra pulled back, eyes on the doctor, pressing the blunt tip of the probe deeper into Kejan Ulli's chest. "Think: Does it matter why any of us try to save your sister's life as long as her life is saved?"
The probe withdrew a fraction of an inch. Cedra's lower lip trembled. "I used to think that," he said. "I thought that she and I had to get out of that camp, find a safe life, a good life, and it didn't matter what we had to do to get it. She's so small, so weak—do you know how many times she got sick on the road to the camp? I healed her, then. I used wild herbs, the way my father taught me on the farm. They worked enough to give her the strength to stay on the road until we reached the camp. But what if something happened to destroy the camp? What if something happened to me? She'd just be another kid in the mob, unwanted, alone. She couldn't survive on her own. I had to be sure she'd always have someone who wanted to take care of her—who needed to make sure she was all right—in case I couldn't do it someday. But I was wrong. What good is it if someone cares for her only because he can use her? What happens to her when she isn't useful anymore? I wish I'd never eavesdropped! I wish I'd never heard of the Nekor! I wish—"His voice broke.
Dr. Bashir stepped in and took the probe from Cedra's unresisting hand.
The boy wheeled about and flung himself into the doctor's arms, sobbing. "Don't judge all of your people by the measure of one man," Bashir said. "Dejana is special to many who will look after her and serve her selflessly."
Cedra looked him in the eye. "What about the others? What about the ones like him?" He jabbed a finger at Kejan Ulli, who flinched and drew the edge of his robes away from the child. "How do we know which ones we can trust?"
"Trust whoever you like," Kejan Ulli growled. "Trust Starfleet, for all I care. They are no better than I. All they see when they look at your sister is a way to keep the provisional government on its shaky legs a while longer and the way through the wormhole free."
"If that were so, Kejan Ulli, why did Commander Sisko just say he refused to let the girl be moved if it would endanger her?" Dax asked quietly. "When I reminded him of the deadline, he said it didn't matter. In his eyes, her life is more important than a hundred political factions' demands."
Cedra came slowly toward Commander Sisko. "You said that?"
"Lieutenant Dax is an old friend of mine," Sisko replied. "Even so, she wouldn't lie for me."
"Then if you care so much about Dejana's health, will you send to the Temple for a healer?"
"Cedra, we've told you: Dr. Bashir has done everything possible. A Temple healer wouldn't—"
"Send!" Cedra screamed. "Send now, because if my sister dies, I swear you'll never have your Nekor!"
"Rather an obvious conclusion, don't you think?" Now that he was out of harm's way, Kejan Ulli had recovered his aplomb.
With perfect accuracy, Cedra spat right in his eye. "There's your obvious," he said. "Dejana isn't the Nekor!"
"That's impossible," Kejan Ulli said harshly. "All the reports, all the proof—"
Cedra gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, it was so easy to fool you all! You saw what you wanted to see. I coached her, and she was perfect. I knew just what to have her do to convince you."
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