Chapter 3

"Remind me again what we're trying to find down here?"

Korbath Mondrig looked over his shoulder at Director Rekel. Even in the murky shadows she could see his close-set eyes flashing with something like derision. "If being underground bothers you, then by all means, you may turn back."

She gritted her teeth. "No, that's all right. I think I can manage. Where are we, Mondrig?"

He angled a glance at the curved ceiling, then down the long concrete tunnel stretching out on either side. "By my estimate, we should be almost below the Tarlak Gardens."

"Ahh," Rekel said with a nod. "So. You're holding your meetings in disused drainage tunnels now. Charming."

Mondrig didn't comment, surprisingly. Instead, he walked ahead with barely-concealed enthusiasm, scanning the walls as he went. Rekel followed a few paces behind, her attention split between him and their surroundings. She could hear the drip and trickle of water somewhere in the distance, and every so often a vole would scuttle about just past the edge of her vision. The mud underfoot was dry here, fortunately, but this was still an unpleasant place. Nonetheless, Mondrig had been very insistent that she come and even more adamant that she keep it a strict secret. Rekel needed to know about anything he would consider that important.

After a long stretch of silent walking, they reached a junction between two tunnels. It was brighter, the first light they had encountered in some time. Mondrig came to an abrupt stop, scanned the place, and smiled to himself.

"We're here," he said.

"Yes we are," she replied, skeptical. Then she saw it, a moment before Mondrig started toward it. A long crack, as wide as her own body, stretched from ceiling to floor in the concrete wall. Near the top, weak daylight was filtering down where the crack reached all the way to the outside air. Fragments of stone littered the floor nearby, as well as several other objects that gleamed faintly. Rekel saw a shard of window glass, a length of metal siding, a dented metal plate with numbers etched on it in intricate script - an address placard. They were below a building. And judging from the damage to the drainage tunnel, the building had been pounded into the ground. It was a common story.

Mondrig stepped up to the gap in the wall and peered through. It was inky black beyond the wall; the crack was deeper than it looked. "This way, Director," he said. "After you, please."

She ignored the condescension in his voice and walked into the fissure. Mondrig came through a step behind. It was a tight squeeze for him, and for a moment she played with the idea of insulting his dignity by offering assistance. She decided against it.

"Be careful," he said. "The way is not so smooth here."

Rekel narrowed her eyes against the darkness. The crack widened out a few feet past the opening, but not by much. The walls met in an uneven ceiling not ten centimeters above her head. The tunnel ahead of her was rough hewn, and it looked like it had remained empty and unused for years - many years. As she inched forward down the sloping path, she could just make out faint markings along the stone. It was some form of writing, and the words were not immediately recognizable. A subtle chill traced its way up her spine. "What is this place?" she said.

"An asset that would have gone to waste, were it not for our resourcefulness," Mondrig said. His voice sounded muffled but eager. "It is a Hebitian burial vault, Rekel! We found it nearly six days ago when we were excavating the war memorials."

Rekel had been trailing her fingers over one of the hieroglyphs. Now she snatched her hand back as if she were afraid the walls would crumble to dust beneath her touch. "Hebitian!"

"Indeed," he said triumphantly. "The lost race of our ancestors. A monumental find, wouldn't you agree? We were not aware that any vaults remained intact, much less at the heart of our own city."

After the shock faded, Rekel's first reaction was anger. "Why wasn't I informed earlier? Why didn't you tell me?"

Mondrig snorted and gave her a little push down the passageway. "I was not sure of your trustworthiness. I needed to know I could rely on your discretion. You and Garak seem rather close at times...."

"I only keep track of him to gather information," Rekel said grimly, walking forward with new impatience. "You know that."

He seemed pleased. "Your faith in the Directorate will not be in vain," he said.

"That remains to be seen." The remark was perfunctory, almost absent-minded. An artificial light was drawing closer as they walked, and more details were becoming visible. Down branching passages on either side, Rekel noticed shadowed chambers that gave a musty, ancient smell. Further in, several of these chambers had modern portable forcefields covering the entrance to protect the contents from corrosion or theft. The watery glow of the energy fields cast a bit of light into the chambers beyond. Rekel saw that light glinting on vague shapes and gleaming objects. She felt short of breath, and not from the stagnant air. Who could tell what priceless artifacts had been buried here beneath their very feet all this time?

"This is unbelievable," she murmured. "We can't let this lie in ruins, it means too much to us. It could change everything...."

"It already has changed everything!" said Mondrig. "I've seen to it. This treasure will provide for us and rebuild our strength."

Rekel did not like the tone of his voice at all. She glanced at him suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

He moved his hands as he spoke, quick animated gestures. "I've found a way to get more food and supplies. And the equipment I need to continue the excavation."

"You need?" she said sharply.

Mondrig smiled. "We need. Of course. Come, my men are waiting in the central chamber. I will show you."

They walked on in silence. Rekel was completely alert now, her senses strained to the utmost. She could see that the artificial light came from a doorway ahead. The room beyond seemed rather large and was not empty. There were voices, and several shadows moved on the walls as people walked back and forth. It appeared they were carrying something.

Mondrig pushed ahead of her and entered the room first. "DaiMon Skal," he said.

"Mr. Mondrig," a nasal voice replied.

Rekel had always been one to remain on her feet under stress. She reacted quickly as she had been trained to do, whether that meant taking action or keeping watchful silence. But at that moment, facing the impossible image before her, she stood motionless in the doorway and could not respond for several seconds. Seated behind a table amid the faded splendor of her people was a squat, leering Ferengi.

Skal rose from his seat and nodded, his pointed teeth bared in a smile. "How good of you to stop by, Mondrig! Everything is going according to plan, I assure you."

"Your half of the bargain...?" Mondrig pressed.

"Of course, of course," said Skal. He gestured back to the table, where a tall stack of portable generators and other equipment had been placed. "Everything is here, as we agreed. " His eyes turned to Rekel and brightened. "And who might this be, Mondrig?"

Mondrig gestured to her with an air of importance. "Of course, forgive me. Skal, this is Director Rekel, an associate of mine. Rekel, DaiMon Skal. We have been in negotiations with Skal and his men for two days now, and things are going quite well."

Rekel had regained some of her composure by the time Skal stepped around the table to approach her. It was enough to keep her face neutral and her hands unflinching when the Ferengi clasped her arm and looked her over with far too much attention.

"Charmed!" he said. "Quite charmed, my dear. It is such a privilege to interact with so many interesting people." He made a move as if to kiss her fingers. Rekel looked at him. He caught her glance, faltered, and let go.

The awkward silence that fell allowed Rekel to gain her bearings. The chamber in which they stood seemed to be at the center of the tunnels; there were doorways carved into the walls on every side. Most of them remained sealed off, but one or two had been recently opened to uncover the winding tunnels behind them. Next to one of these open doors were several large crates that Mondrig's men had carried out from the chambers. The lids were still open, and Rekel could see that the crates had been loaded with artifacts. They were small carvings and sculptures; mainly stone, though some of them gleamed with precious metals and gems.

Mondrig followed her gaze. "Amazing, aren't they? There was an entire room filled with shelves of these figures - a shrine in honor of a family's lineage, we think. Remarkable workmanship."

"Quite interesting, the customs these people had," said Skal. He walked to the crate and plucked out one of the statues. It was a slender female figure carved in alabaster stone. The details of the hands and face and the delicate folds of the robes had been shaped with painstaking care.

"What are you doing?" Rekel asked. Her voice sounded strange to her, as if some other person were speaking; she fought the impulse to snatch the relic from Skal's groping fingers. Our history ... Cardassia's history ....

Skal gestured carelessly with the statue. "These will be enough, I think. They should do reasonably well; antique ornaments have their markets, though they're nothing spectacular. I'll take the contents of the shrine for this shipment, as well as a certain percentage of what we uncover in the next two chambers."

Mondrig frowned and shook his head. "They have more value than what you admit to, Skal. Half the contents of the shrine would be more than enough; I will only be generous to a certain extent."

"Half!" Skal said as if shocked. "I must say that's far lower than what I expected. If you really think they are worth that much...."

"I do," said Mondrig. "We stay with the amount we agreed upon this morning. Nothing more, not for now."

"Ah, you drive a hard bargain," said the Ferengi ruefully. Then he smiled and lifted his hands. "Very well! I can see you're not a man to be trifled with."

Rekel suppressed a hot surge of anger. Judging from the speed with which Skal had folded, the bargaining had been nothing more than a ruse; the Ferengi were leading Mondrig on and walking away with far more wealth than he realized. Her hands clenched at her sides, but she could do nothing, at least not yet. If she openly confronted Skal she would lose any chance of keeping close to him and following him back to the source of the problem. She had to keep an image of acquiescence - even submissiveness to a certain extent - for both Skal and Mondrig, or their usefulness to her would be lost.

Not too submissive, however. She noted Mondrig's watchful glances in her direction and made a judgment. He expected her to disagree to the idea initially, allowing him to talk her around to his way of thinking. She steeled herself and waited for her cue.

Mondrig made a show of inspecting the equipment. "They seem to be functional," he smirked. "No surprise, since I'm sure you would never deal with defective merchandise."

"Certainly not!" Skal said. "We only trade at the highest level of quality."

"Very well," Mondrig said. "Leave them here and my men will help you carry out your payment."

Skal smiled, but before he could reply another Ferengi scuttled through the door. Ignoring everyone else in the room, the Ferengi made for Skal and whispered to him. Skal's expression changed; he seemed annoyed at something. Excusing himself, he moved to a far corner with his assistant. As the two huddled together, Rekel heard the hushed tones of their voices - and then, to her surprise, the metallic sound of a third voice which Skal did his best to muffle. It was a comm link, she realized. A comm link completely free of the interference that had been troubling Starfleet's transmitters for weeks now. She noted that carefully. There were many questions she had to answer, and soon.

The second Ferengi left as quickly as he had arrived. When Skal approached Mondrig again, he had shed much of his courtesy. He pulled a PADD from his jacket. "We are cutting our negotiations short for now, Mondrig," he said. "I will meet with you tomorrow to finalize the deal. If you will please put your thumbprint on this contract for today's trade...?"

Mondrig complied without a thought. Skal nodded brusquely, graced Rekel with a smile, and turned away. "Hurry up with that, both of you!" he barked to Mondrig's men. "I want everything out of here in five minutes!"

Rekel stepped forward; it was time to play her part. She touched Mondrig's elbow. "May I talk with you a moment?" she said with forced calm.

Mondrig noticed her tension and smiled slightly. Taking her arm, he led her out of the room and up the passage for a few paces. "Something wrong, Director?"

The indignation that flooded into her voice was easy enough to summon; she only hoped it would not get the better of her and betray her true rage. "Damn it, Mondrig, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Rekel, please, keep your voice down," Mondrig said with a scowl. "The Ferengi have very good ears, if you haven't noticed."

"I don't care if he hears me or not - he'll have to deal with me soon enough!" she snapped. "This is intolerable! Those artifacts are priceless symbols of our heritage, and you're peddling them off to a Ferengi for a few replicators?!"

Mondrig looked at her with great disdain. "This is no time to get sentimental about the past, Rekel. These artifacts will keep our people from starving."

"The Federation is providing �!"

"You give your trust to the Federation so easily?" Mondrig said. He snarled in frustration and paced toward the cavern wall. "I thought better of you, Rekel. What they want to do to Cardassia will defile our culture worse than the sale of a few antiques ever could!"

"Better the Federation than a flock of Ferengi vultures!" she retorted. "Does Parn know you've made this deal? Madred, Hadar? Does anyone?"

He turned and looked at her for a long beat. In the debate he seemed to be holding about her loyalty, he seemed to come to a conclusion. "They will. When the time is right."

She stared at him in a mixture of shock and disgust. He waved her toward the outside exit before she had the chance to respond. "It's suffocating in these chambers," he said. "Let's get some air."

Rekel did as she was told. Mondrig was on the brink of revealing something; she couldn't afford to lose his trust now. She waited until they were out of the Hebitian tunnels and back in the drainage system before spearing him with a demanding look.

Mondrig hesitated for a moment, tapping his steepled fingers against his lips. "You know our political future is precarious, Rekel. Even the Directorate is being tainted with Federation ideals of democracy, and we've been trapped in endless debate over trivial matters for weeks. We need to regain a strong initiative - show our people that we can survive on our own resources. I plan to use this find to begin that process, but I cannot do that with the interference of other factions. Getting others involved will only complicate matters."

"Then why are you confiding in me?" Rekel said bluntly.

He snorted and crossed his arms. "Are you not intelligent enough to figure it out?"

A biting reply sprang to her lips. Then realization dawned on her, and she closed her mouth so abruptly her teeth clicked. Inwardly she cursed her own shortsightedness; she should have known the difference between honest irritation and a Cardassian courtship ritual.

After a moment, Mondrig frowned and prodded her for a response. "I thought you would be useful to me. That's all."

She took her time in replying, and her tone was emotionless. "My service is for the better good of Cardassia. Without the integrity of our people, the individual is useless. We have to remember that, now more than ever."

"I agree!" He reached out and clasped her shoulder, the touch just a little too intimate for a gesture of trust between soldiers. "But we must fight to protect that integrity. We each have an obligation to strike corruption at its heart."

Her expression darkened. "Indeed we do."

* * * *

"There it is." A gust of hot, gritty wind blew Kehin's hair into his eyes as he lifted his head above the boulder they were crouched behind. He turned a nervous glance to the group behind him: Bashir, Garak, Commander Blake, and Lieutenant Storie. "That's where the other children are."

He needn't have worried about pointing it out. Bashir had long been able to see the low building set on the very edge of the open plains. To his eyes, it was little more than a shack; it had probably served as some utility building and was now as random and forgotten as the rock formations scattered around it. Tangled vines climbed up the walls and an abundance of tiles was missing from the roof. Only the disturbed dust before the door indicated that the building was being used at all.

Despite himself, Bashir could see the cleverness of selecting this spot for the illegal trade. The only thing between this building and Cardassia City was a wide, uneven field of loose dirt - the mass graves of Cardassia's dead. No person who came to that place would go beyond it. Bashir felt a burning in the back of his throat and took a moment to push it away.

Blake gazed at the building with a small frown. "All right, first thing," he murmured. He tapped his combadge. "Blake to Nightingale. Do you read?"

"We're reading you, Commander." The officer's voice came through with a good amount of static, but the comm link was working. Commander Hart's subspace maneuvering had overcome the interference for the time being.

"We're here," Blake said. "Mark our coordinates and keep a lock on our signals."

"Done," the officer replied.

Blake deactivated the comm and returned his attention to the building. "If anyone's in there, they're being quiet about it."

"People who come to a planet in an attempt to enslave the populace's children tend not to advertise their presence," Garak replied with a certain amount of acidity; fortunately, Blake chose to ignore it. "Why don't we find out who came to visit?"

Bashir nodded and reached for his tricorder. The instrument's warble seemed alarmingly loud, but he had his own enhanced hearing to thank for that. "They're in there, all right," he said. "Cardassian lifesigns, sixteen of them, mostly pre-adolescent...." Then the tricorder confirmed new readings, and his mouth tightened. "Three other life forms, adults. Humanoid males." He gave Garak a grim look. "Ferengi."

Garak nodded; his expression never changed. "I thought as much."

Lieutenant Storie shaded her eyes from the sun. "Do you think they could have seen us coming?"

"Unlikely," Blake answered, his gaze locked on the building. "The windows have been boarded from the inside. Pretty secure, from the looks of it."

"Everything's closed up," Kehin said. "It's always dark in there." Though he was determined not to show anxiety, the slight quaver of his voice was evident.

Blake exhaled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "It's not like there's anywhere they can run to; nothing but wasteland behind them. Still, we need to check the place out, cover any exits on the other side. It won't be helpful if they try to sneak out the back door. Lieutenant."

Storie nodded efficiently. "Yes, sir."

"You're with me. Take the left side." Then the commander paused and frowned at Kehin. "If that kid makes any noise all hell could break loose."

"He'll be fine, Commander," Bashir said, his voice clipped. Beside him, Kehin stiffened and glowered in Blake's direction.

"If you say so," Blake muttered. Then he returned his attention to the building. Storie waited for his lead.

As bulky as he was, Blake rose from his crouch with surprising smoothness. He gestured to Storie, and the two of them walked cautiously toward the building with phasers at ready. No movement came from within. Either they had truly gone unnoticed or the people inside were keeping low. Bashir settled back on his heels, trying not to fidget with nervous energy; Kehin hunched down and watched the security officers with wide eyes. Garak, of course, remained calm and motionless.

Blake and Storie maneuvered silently around the walls. Keeping aim on the door, they branched off to flank the building. In a moment, both of them slipped out of view around the corners. The irrational idea that they had vanished into the void nagged at Bashir, but in reality it wasn't thirty seconds before Blake reappeared. He moved back to the front corner of the building, made eye contact with Bashir, and flicked two raised fingers back toward himself, once. Garak rose from his hiding place and approached. Bashir held back for just a moment.

"Kehin," he whispered, "I want you to stay here, all right?"

The boy squirmed. "I don't want to hide! I can help. I won't get in the way."

"This could be dangerous," Bashir insisted. "You won't be of help to anyone if you get hurt. And you've already helped your friends, more than they could have hoped for. Just stay here, please."

Kehin frowned and wiped his sweaty palms against his tunic, but he stayed down. Satisfied, Bashir jogged to catch up with the others. Blake stood with his head tipped toward the wall, as if listening for sounds inside. "One door at the back," he murmured. "Storie has it covered. I say we head in."

"Nothing like the direct approach," Bashir murmured.

Blake lifted one shoulder in a shrug, then stepped around the corner and walked to the far side of the door. Garak automatically took position across from him; Bashir stood back several paces, his hand tightening on his weapon. Reaching forward very carefully, Blake gripped the handle and tested it. Then a bemused expression crossed his face, and he twisted and pushed. The door was unlocked; it opened, rusted hinges creaking, and a breath of slightly stale air wafted out to meet them. They lifted their phasers and waited.

Nothing happened. The dark, narrow room on the other side of the door was empty.

Judging from Blake's face, he was disappointed, as if anything less than smashing in the door with guns blazing was an anticlimax. But the danger certainly wasn't past yet. Blake stepped through the door with caution. The worn floorboards creaked as Bashir and Garak followed, and Bashir flicked an instinctive glance to the closed doors of adjoining rooms on either side. The Ferengi had to know they were here by now; it wouldn't be much longer.

Bashir checked his tricorder again, and what the readings told him were confirmed by the faintest muffled voices coming from somewhere further inside, directly ahead. Someone else spoke in a grating whisper, and the smaller voices were cut short. Bashir caught Garak's eye and inclined his head in that direction. Garak's responding glance conveyed a warning. There were other sounds from the left: approaching footsteps, orders hissed back and forth. A door eased open a few centimeters, then closed again. The three of them moved to stand back to back, weapons raised. For a long moment, no one moved.

Suddenly Blake sighed. "Oh, for the love of - hello in there! You can come out now."

Power whirred from above. Light flashed on and flooded the room; Bashir closed his eyes for an instant. When he opened them, he saw a Ferengi standing in front of him, aiming a disruptor at his chest. Another armed Ferengi was in front of Garak, and the third stood on the receiving end of Blake's annoyed glare. At the moment they were evenly matched, three to three. Bashir waited. Blake's call had been for Storie as much as it had been for the Ferengi.

"Drop your weapons," said the first Ferengi, who seemed to be in charge of this little group.

"Why don't you drop yours?" Commander Blake said.

"Because we have you surrounded. And anyway," the Ferengi added, "I asked you first."

Blake snorted. "Give me a better reason."

The Ferengi seemed at a loss for a moment. "Now now, we don't want anyone to get hurt...."

"Hey!" the one facing Garak interrupted. Before the others could react, he reached through the open front door and hauled Kehin into view by one ear. Kehin yelped. Bashir sighed.

"Now! Drop them now!" the second Ferengi cried, grabbing the boy by the neck.

Blake angled a scathing look over his shoulder at Bashir. "He'll be fine, huh?"

Bashir dropped his phaser. He could tell from the thudding noises behind him that the others had done the same, not that they had much choice in the matter.

The Ferengi leader grinned. "That's better. What an interesting group of visitors! If I'd known you were coming I would have had a better welcome for you. Now," and the grin turned into a snarl, "tell me what you're doing here, and make it quick. We don't have much patience for uninvited guests."

Garak answered. "Uninvited guests! An ironic complaint, coming from you."

"In case you didn't know," Blake added, "there is a Federation fleet in orbit of this planet."

The leader tilted his head. "So?"

Blake managed to sound blas�. "So we have your coordinates and our friends in orbit are watching our every move. Maybe you ought to tell me why we shouldn't have you beamed directly to the brig."

The leader looked apprehensive, but he covered with a laugh. "With all the interference in the atmosphere? I don't think so. You know as well as I do that you need special transmitters to get a lock from orbit, and there certainly aren't any of those here. Sorry, Starfleeter."

Dr. Bashir shrugged. "Think what you like. But Starfleet transporter chiefs are very good; I know one who could beam a thread through the eye of a needle, interference or no interference."

"We know what you've been doing here," Garak said, his voice low and menacing. "We have come to take the children back. Surrender them quietly and we will allow you to leave unharmed."

The room was silent, both sides assessing the other. Kehin held very still in his captor's grip; he looked frightened but alert, as if he was waiting for an opportunity.

The Ferengi guarding Blake shifted on his feet. "He's bluffing, Voko. He has to be. They can't detect us through�."

It was enough. The leader glanced to the left as his cohort spoke. Bashir's hand flashed up, snatched the disruptor away, and trained the weapon in the other direction before they knew what was happening. In the same instant, Blake ducked forward and jerked the nervous Ferengi's aim to one side. As they struggled, Blake drove his elbow into the Ferengi's side with enough force to crack a rib. The Ferengi cried out in pain and surprise and doubled over.

The third Ferengi looked about him frantically, pointing his weapon first at Garak, then at Kehin's head. Garak stood his ground, ready to spring forward if he had to. "Let him go," he said.

"Stay back!" the Ferengi stammered. "I swear I'll...."

He got no further. Abruptly, Kehin braced his small body and stomped the Ferengi's foot as hard as he could. The Ferengi squealed and loosened his grip; as Kehin struggled free, Garak moved in and dropped the Ferengi with two swift blows. The disruptor skittered across the floor. In a last desperate effort, Voko charged Bashir with surprising strength, knocking him off balance. Then he made a grab for the disruptor as it spun to his feet.

"Freeze."

Voko went motionless, his hand centimeters from the weapon. Storie stood at the back of the room. She protected Kehin behind her and she aimed her phaser at Voko's chest. Garak and Bashir retrieved their phasers from the floor; Blake hauled his Ferengi up by one arm and shoved him over to the others. "Good work, Lieutenant," he said. "Help me keep them quiet."

Bashir was already making his way to the back of the building; he sensed Garak fall into step just behind him. A tiny hallway led back to the locked door of what seemed to be the largest room. There was silence on the other side. They paused for a moment, exchanged a glance. Then Garak drew back the bolt with a deft, sharp motion and opened the door.

The room was a bit tidier than the others, with rugs and a few pieces of furniture placed here and there. Blankets and used plates lay along the walls, tokens of luxury used by the Ferengi to lure Cardassian children. The sixteen children that had accepted the offer stood in the middle of the floor, and all of them looked at the newcomers with wary attentiveness. They covered a wide range of ages and sizes, from a small boy no older than five to one or two youths that were approaching their teenage years. All of them wore the new garish clothing given to them by Voko and his men. It appeared that they had been listening to the struggle outside with a mixture of interest and fear; now as Bashir and Garak entered, those feelings intensified. Some of them whispered urgently to each other. Others, mainly the younger children, shrank back.

One of them, a girl who looked to be the oldest, met Bashir's gaze with severity. She reminded him of a commander reprimanding a cadet for falling out of line. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What's happening?"

"It's all right - we're friends," he answered. "The fighting is over. You won't be harmed."

"Are you with the others?" the girl said.

Bashir held back a frown at the idea. "No. We have the Ferengi restrained; they're not taking you anywhere. You can come home now."

There was a silence. She scrutinized him, glanced over her shoulder at the others, and peered through the open door where Blake and the Ferengi were just visible. Kehin lurked in the shadows of the hallway, silently watching.

"Why should we?" the girl said.

Bashir blinked. "What?"

"Why should we go with you?" she repeated, and this time she sounded tired and irritated. "Didn't you think we might want to leave? They promised to take us to people who will give us food and clothes. They're going to take us somewhere better. They told us!"

Some of the others murmured in agreement. Bashir was at a loss for words - this wasn't quite the reaction he'd been expecting. For just a moment, facing the anticipation that shone on many of their faces at the girl's words, he couldn't think of a way to counter her argument.

Then, before he could try, he felt someone push past him. Goaded into action, Kehin had stomped into the room like an angry targ and rounded on the girl.

"You're being stupid!" he yelled.

The girl gazed at him, angry and startled. "No I'm not! And what are you doing here? I thought you left!"

"To find help, if you're smart enough to take it!" said Kehin. "What good is escaping if you live like a vole? They just want you to be slaves! Look at yourselves; they've dressed you up like dolls in a toy shop! That's all you are!"

"He's right, I'm afraid," Bashir said. "The Ferengi have been lying to you. They intended to sell you to whoever gave the highest offer. They did not care what happened to you after that."

The girl raised her chin. "There's nothing left for us on Cardassia. At least they'll take us somewhere new. If I don't like it, then I'll escape and go somewhere else. I'd rather take my chances out there in space than be stuck down here!"

"And what about the younger children - what will they do?" Bashir asked softly. "How do you expect them to survive out there alone?"

The girl faltered for a moment, then scowled and looked away. Garak broke the silence; it was the first time he'd spoken or even shown reaction since entering the room. "You were not taught to abandon your people when times are hard," he said, but his voice remained gentle. "Your future is Cardassia's future. If you leave us now, then indeed, there is no hope left."

His presence was calming, comforting - the first adult Cardassian the children had seen in days. The persuasion he held with them was undeniable. The girl shifted uncomfortably. "But even if we stay, what use is there?" she said. "What could we even do?"

"There's only one way to find out," Garak replied with a smile.

Again the girl hesitated. Her gaze flitted to the doorway, then to Kehin, then to the others behind her. Some signal passed between the group; when she turned back to Garak and Bashir, her harshness was fading. "Then...." She waved a hand at the blankets and supplies littered around the room. "Then you'll at least let us take these things with us?"

Bashir relaxed, but managed to restrain a sigh of relief. "Take whatever you'd like," he said.

As if they were only waiting for permission, the children sprang into motion. They rolled up blankets, collected pillows, and grabbed containers of water and extra clothes from the shelves along the walls. Several of them crowded around a portable replicator at one end of the room and came away with handfuls of food. Then they hurried out of the room, talking excitedly. Bashir heard Voko's protests as the children made off with his property, then a sharp command from Blake that cut the Ferengi's words short. Amused, Garak hefted the replicator into his arms. "Generous of the Ferengi to supply us with this," he remarked. "I'll start organizing the return journey. We'll be quite a sight, trooping through the city like a crusade."

Bashir allowed himself a smile. "Looking forward to it," he said. Then he sobered. "The sooner we get back the better. If there are others...."

"We'll find them," Garak said. "Perhaps your security officer can stay here for a while and get some information from our Ferengi friends."

"I'll ask him," Bashir replied. "Be out in a moment."

Garak nodded and walked out the door. By now the room was empty and stripped bare; only Kehin and Bashir remained. As he watched his companions walking outside into the mid-afternoon light, Kehin seemed more eager and content than he had for days.

Bashir gave him a wry look. "Happy?"

Kehin grinned back. "Am now."

Chapter Four

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