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Invol(e)vement

By Cardie-ologist

On a brilliantly sunny autumn day in Rakantha Province, Odo and Kira sat somewhat nervously in the waiting room outside the office of Vedek Dareyvian Tal, superintendent of the Kielithset Monastery Home for Hybrid Children. After a full year of hearing Ziyal's heartbreaking stories of these abandoned results of Bajoran-Cardassian "intimacy" during two occupations, they had decided to take the big step and adopt one of the children there. Earlier explorations of the possibility of adopting a Bajoran infant, had, much to Kira's surprise, resulted in politely vague refusals. Odo had been less surprised, but more deeply hurt, since he suspected that Bajorans hesitated to put one of their own in the care of a Changeling. Ziyal had said, however, that interest among Bajoran couples in taking home a hybrid was so low that she couldn't imagine they would be refused. Still, both of them remained uneasy.

Vedek Dareyvian stepped out of her office and greeted them. She was a woman in her middle years, somewhat taller than the norm, with blond hair still untouched by gray and shrewd green eyes. "Welcome," she said, taking each of them in turn by the ear. "Great, a pagh test!" Kira thought.. As her eyes met Odo's she could see that he was thinking the same thing. The Vedek regarded them both impassively, then showed them into her office. Kira took a chair opposite the Vedek's workstation; Odo stood behind her.

Dareyvian shuffled through a few PADDs. "I see from your application that you would like to adopt one of our babies. I don't suppose there is any way I could persuade you to consider an older child? Many of the hybrids produced during the first Occupation are, you realize, grown up by now. However, the place is teeming with children who were born in its last years, seven- to ten-year-olds whose mothers abandoned them rather than be caught by their neighbors with evidence of their involvement with the Cardassians, once Bajor was free again."

Kira weighed her words carefully. "Odo and I have both had the experience of fostering infants, only to have to give them up. We'd really cherish the opportunity to raise a baby as our own."

"I can certainly understand," the Vedek said soothingly, although there was a glint of disapproval in the green eyes. "Of course, the Dominion occupation wasn't literally an occupation at all, nor did it last very long, the Prophets be praised, and there were far fewer hybrid births. Just a few opportunistic young women who thought that a half-Cardassian child might provide a little insurance if the Alpha Quadrant fell, and who dropped them off here rather quickly when it didn't. Are you aware that the provincial facilities that housed both Bajoran and Cardassian war orphans never accepted hybrids? Our order has been the only hope for these outcasts for twenty years." She entered some data into her computer. "Currently we have seven children between the ages of nine months and two, all healthy and well-adjusted, I'm happy to say. You can accompany me to the nursery now."

"Does that mean that you will allow us to adopt one of the children here?" Odo asked cautiously.

"Allow? Two high-ranking officers in the Bajoran militia, heroes of the War, come here offering their home to one of my children, and you think I might refuse? I've managed this orphanage for over a decade, and in all that time I've placed only five children in adoptive homes. People watch what they say to outworlders, but most Bajorans would rather have a vole infestation in the house than a Cardassian hybrid child."

***

The Vedek led them down several corridors in the children's dormitory. The rooms were all empty, she explained, because the beautiful weather was ideal for outside activities. Just as they were about to go through some reinforced doors at the end of a corridor, they heard the "zzzt, zzt" of something hitting a force field. Although Dareyvian seemed oblivious to the sound, both Kira and Odo turned to determine its source.

The force field sealed the doorway into the last room on the left of the corridor. The noise was being caused by a child, who was throwing itself repeatedly against the energy barrier. About a meter tall, and reed-thin, the little girl wore a rust colored-dress that came up high under her chin and reached almost to the floor. She was not wearing shoes, but instead over-sized, padded slippers. Her entire head was encased in what looked like a springball helmet without the visor. Its white polymer-coated surface concealed her entire forehead, her hair, and her ears, and its strap was threaded through a larger than normal chin protector. What little of her face that was visible showed no expression, and her repeated contacts with and withdrawals from the force field had all the spontaneity of a wind-up toy.

Odo stood horrified and transfixed. "Why is that child being treated like a zoo specimen?" he asked.

Dareyvian was all apologetic concern. "I'm sorry you had to see this. It's not what it looks like. Haran is one of our most tragic cases. We have to confine her to keep her from hurting herself. Be assured that the force field is set on the lowest possible energy level necessary to keep her in the room."

"What happened to her?"

"That's a very long, very sad story. You hardly need to be hearing it on such a joyous occasion. Come, the nursery is right through here. Let's find you your new son or daughter."

Odo still didn't move. Kira took his arm. "Odo, Ziyal's told us how badly abused many of these children have been. There's nothing we can do. Just be grateful that the poor little girl has found people to care for her here." Reluctantly he turned and joined her on the way to the nursery.

It didn't take long for them to make their decision--at least not long for Kira to do so. She was drawn immediately to a chubby, gurgling little boy whose Cardassian genes had clearly outpaced their Bajoran counterparts. When Kira lifted him from his crib, he grinned charmingly and pulled at her hair. "Ah, that's our Notar," said Dareyvian. "He was born right after the Federation retook Deep Space 9, fourteen months ago. His mother left him at the front gate when he was only a day or two old. He has a delightful personality, and a very hearty appetite. We have worried that his appearance might be a barrier to placing him."

"His appearance is adorable," Kira enthused, kissing the wriggling little boy on his spoon as he squealed happily. "Don't you think so, Odo?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course. Changelings don't set much store in appearance, anyway."

"Odo, we're choosing our child. You seem distracted. This is an important decision. It requires that we both be sure."

She handed Notar to him. The little boy was indeed charming as he tried to bite Odo's nose, giggling all the while. Yet Odo's thoughts were still beyond the door with the poor creature in the cage. He forced himself to concentrate on the business at hand. "Any child we bring into our home will be a blessing from the Prophets Nerys. They seem to have guided you to this little fellow."

She gave him an inquiring look. He never invoked the Prophets, and he still did not seem to have made any meaningful connection to the child. "This isn't my decision, Odo, or the Prophets'; it's ours."

"I'm just trying to tell you that I think he's the child for us," Odo replied, but with a noticeable lack of excitement. The Vedek looked at both of them uneasily. "Perhaps you should take the child home with you, for a trial. Much as I want to place Notar, I have to be sure he's suited to his new parents."

"I'm sure he'll be suited," Kira said grimly. "However, a trial period is a wise precaution, Vedek Dareyvian."

***

"What is wrong with you, Odo?" Kira exploded, as soon as they were safely in their ground car, with Notar in a child seat between them, cooing contentedly and sucking on a jumja stick. "I thought you wanted a child as much as I did. In fact, I've always thought you wanted a child *more* than I did."

"I do, truly, Nerys."

"Well, you're not acting like it. You might as well have been a thousand light years away in that nursery. We're not just going to some replicator and saying "Child, hybrid, male," after all."

"It's clear that Notar here has bonded instantly with y-- with us," Odo smiled, patting the boy's head. "I don't deny I was distracted before. I just can't shake the image of that trapped little girl."

"Odo, you know what the Occupation did to all of us who lived through it. Besides the millions who died, millions more were so damaged that they could never live normal lives, many of them as young as that poor child. We just have to be grateful that we can provide a home for a child that isn't damaged beyond repair."

"Yes, I know. We'll keep Notar with us for a week, just so the Vedek is convinced that we've given our decision the proper consideration. Then we'll finalize the adoption."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely," he answered, leaning over their new son to kiss her.

***

They had decided to take a half year's parental leave on Bajor if their adoption worked out. They spent their days fixing up the old farmhouse in northern Dahkur that they had bought as their planet-side residence and restoring its ravaged garden. They watched Notar blossom in his new surroundings, and when he went to sleep at night, they reveled in the leisure to explore their hard-won love for each other without the prevalent distractions of their duties on Deep Space Nine.

Not that they left their professional lives totally behind. Kira was to be promoted to commander of the station when the gradual pullout of the Terrans was complete, and she had to spend a few hours a day catching up with the daily reports that were forwarded to her. Odo couldn't resist checking out the daily crime reports as well. In addition, he'd been asked to take one or two days a week to serve as a consultant to the various Bajoran provincial law enforcement cadres, and he was scheduled to make at least one inspection visit to each of the 37 provincial police headquarters.

Two and a half weeks after they brought Notar home, his inspection of the Rakantha headquarters was cancelled at the last minute because of a local criminal emergency. He found himself in the neighborhood of the Home for Hybrid Children, with an unexpectedly free day. Despite the joy he had experienced with his new family, he had been unsuccessful in banishing thoughts of the little girl from his mind. He impulsively showed up unannounced at the orphanage gates. Vedek Dareyvian was walking on the grounds. She greeted him graciously and bade him sit down beside her on one of the benches in the sunny fruit tree arbor. "Have you come to deliver a progress report on dear Notar?" she inquired deferentially.

"The baby is doing splendidly. Kira and I are delighted with him," Odo responded. "But that's not why I've come. Vedek Dareyvian, I'd like you to tell me the history of that little girl Haran, the one that was throwing herself against the force field." Odo tried to keep the indignation out of his voice. He would have to gain Dareyvian's good will if it were to be at all possible to do anything for the child.

"Do you mind if I ask why, Security Chief Odo?"

"I have a certain, ah, empathy for children who are raised in isolation. Also a certain antipathy for the practice. For my peace of mind I need to be convinced that there's no other way."

The Vedek smiled, shaking her head slightly. "Believe me, there isn't, despite how cruel it looks to an outsider."

"Then you will have no difficulty in convincing me."

Dareyvian closed her eyes and bowed her head, accepting the challenge. "Two years ago, one of our monks making a pilgrimage to the Lakeran shrine found Haran lying in a ditch by the side of the highway about ten kilometers from the village of Fiseneth. She was near death from starvation and exposure. The villagers told the child welfare authorities that they knew nothing of her. The monk prayed for many days at her bedside, and when it was sure that she would recover, he decided to make his own inquiries."

"And when approached by a holy man, the villagers suddenly regained their memories?" Odo asked sarcastically.

"Let's just say that people can feel more comfortable confiding in a servant of the Prophets than in a representative of the Provisional government."

"Why had they denied knowledge of the child?"

"To explain her to the authorities would have been to admit to their complicity in a very dark deed of the past," the woman said somberly. "Haran is the daughter of Mina Chatal. I imagine the name is familiar to you."

"Indeed," Odo responded, surprised. "The most notorious Bajoran collaborator of the Occupation not yet brought to justice. She informed the Cardassians that the men of her village--it was Tarka, I believe--had conspired to assassinate the regional governor, Gul Nared, as he was travelling to the provincial capital. When they gathered to carry out their ambush, Cardassian soldiers were waiting."

"Yes. The Cardassians interrogated, tortured, and then executed all the men. Next they went to Tarka and shot everyone in the village--everyone but children under ten and Mina Chatal, whom Gul Nared in gratitude made his mistress."

"And Haran is their child?"

"Yes. Of course, Nared abandoned them when the Occupation ended--Haran had only just been born. Mina concealed her identity and fled with the baby to Fiseneth. She had money to survive, as so many of the Cardassians' Bajoran women did. People ostracized the 'spoon-whores' and their children, to be sure, but they were also prepared to suffer them as customers."

"Hmf, I'm sure," Odo snorted.

"Evidently Mina and the child lived there undiscovered, mostly keeping to themselves, for about three years. Then one of the Tarka orphans came to live with his mother's parents in Fiseneth, and he recognized Mina, and told his grandfather who she was."

"And no one alerted the authorities? I would think they would have been delighted to see Mina brought to justice."

The Vedek sighed. "Suffering doesn't necessarily breed sainthood, Mr. Odo. Several of the other villagers had lost kin at Tarka, as well. They weren't interested in justice. They wanted revenge. They broke into Mina's cottage in the middle of the night, dragged her into the village square, and stoned her to death. They made sure that she knew Haran was watching her die, as the children in Tarka had been forced to do as their parents were killed. Afterwards, they burned the body to conceal every trace of their act of vengeance"

"And Haran remembers all this?" Odo whispered, horrified.

"It's hard to tell. She's never spoken of it, but then she doesn't speak very much about anything." Dareyvian absently rubbed her forehead. "Needless to say, the villagers found it extremely painful to speak of it themselves, once their insane rage had passed. I think the mob might have had thoughts of killing the child as well, but cooler heads apparently prevailed, pointed out that even the Cardassians had spared children that young."

"It was hardly sparing her to leave her to starve in the countryside," Odo growled.

"No, that was two years later, when she was five. Evidently some incident occurred that made her run away from the village, and I'm afraid to say that no one went trying to find her. The people in Fiseneth have never made it completely clear how she survived in the interim. From what we've managed to piece together from their accounts there was one older woman who let the child sleep in her barn, occasionally washed her. Some others left food scraps on their doorsteps for her to find. Every now and then someone would replace her outgrown rags with others they'd intended for the recycler. But not all of them showed her even that paltry kindness. We think someone decided that it would be cruelly funny to teach her to say the most vile things and then reward her for doing so with food or trinkets. For the first six months she was in the hospital the only words she ever said were, 'Mommy Cardie-whore, Daddy spoon-head scum, Haran bad, dirty lizard-leaving.'"

"Does she know what the words mean, or does she just repeat them like a talking-bird?"

"She knows that they're related to her being a hybrid. Every time she's with any of the other children here, she points to them and says the same thing. Considering how self-destructive her typical behavior can be, the therapists believe she's all too aware of what the words mean and that she accepts them as a description of herself. It's the way she always introduces herself to strangers."

Odo was silent for a long time. The Vedek regarded him patiently. No doubt this was a common reaction to Haran's story, he supposed. "I would certainly be interested in having the people responsible for this child's condition in my holding cells," he said with barely controlled anger, at length.

Dareyvian spread out her hands, palms downward. "I doubt we'll ever know who they are, unless we wanted to resort to Cardassian methods. After the end of the Occupation many such atrocities were perpetrated upon those who had collaborated. Many hybrids were abused, neglected, or worse. Bajor is not yet prepared to confront this part of her past."

You came here to help the child, not as a Bajoran security officer, Odo reminded himself. "You said that Haran was self-destructive? In what ways?"

"Haran is a deeply disturbed child, which should hardly surprise you, knowing her history. We have to keep the helmet on her because otherwise she tries to pull off her Cardassian bone-ridges. When she gets agitated, usually because strangers are present, she'll throw herself against the force field, as you saw, or bang her head against the wall. And she'll put off eating until she's absolutely ravenous. We leave food in her room, because fortunately she will eventually consume just enough to keep her alive. The doctors give her additional essential nutrients by injection.

"She's terrified of all adults, but also docile and obedient to them. With the other children here, however, she's extremely violent. When we let her go out in the garden with them, we have to dress her in a little vest that restrains her hands at her sides and in those soft padded slippers rather than shoes. Otherwise she'd seriously injure them with her hitting and kicking; they all know already to stay out of biting range.

"Her spoken language skills are extremely poor, although we think she comprehends most of what's said to her. The therapists at the Children's Psychiatric Institute actually taught her to read, and she can digest some fairly sophisticated texts. But she refuses to express herself in writing, or by drawing, or by any other alternative means we've tried to use to unlock whatever dark thoughts are in her head."

"The doctors don't believe that with time . . ."

"The Prophets can always heal the troubled spirit. I've spent my life believing that," the Vedek replied. "We've seen many badly scarred children flourish here. Haran's surely a test to my faith, however. In over a year there's been absolutely no progress. All we can do is provide for her physical needs, and pray. As for the doctors, all of them conclude that she will never be able to function outside an institutional setting. An orphanage seems marginally more humane than a mental ward."

Odo hesitated. "Could I speak to the child?"

The woman leaned forward and touched him lightly on the hand, "Many people are moved by Haran's plight, but believe me, intervention by strangers always does her far more harm than good. Your intentions are kind, I know, but Haran is happiest when undisturbed. Come with me. I'll show you."

The Vedek led him out to the main reception desk and unlocked one of the surrounding panels, so he could step behind it. The woman on duty rose and stepped back discreetly. Dareyvian pointed out one of the surveillance screens to Odo.

"We monitor Haran at all times. You'll see that she's tranquil now, and absorbed in one of her PADDs. She's quite the game player, as long as it's her against the computer rather than a live opponent. We also provide interactive educational programs, storybooks, a new supply of cyber-puzzles every week. She entertains herself from wake-up to lights out. It's only when the staff take her to speech therapy, or the doctor, or the shower, or to be with the other children--in other words when she has to interact with other living beings--that she works herself up into the state you saw her in. I know that it's necessary not to give up trying to socialize her, but sometimes I feel it would be a mercy to leave her totally alone and have her necessaries delivered by robot."

The surveillance grid was of the same type Odo used on the station. He pressed the proper computer keys and guided the camera on an inspection of the room. It contained a child's bed, table and chairs, painted in bright blues and yellows. Through an opening in the back wall, a bathroom was visible. The bedclothes featured an abstract print on a white background. The walls were pale blue, and bare, save for a large holo-image of Kai Winn. The floor was made of polished sidnera wood. Shelves at child height overflowed with PADDs; numerous others were piled on the small desk that also held a computer. Haran sat cross-legged on the floor, staring raptly at still another as her fingers flew expertly across its keypad. Obviously the Vedek was sincere in her assertions; obviously everything was being done for the child's comfort. Yet the sight of her filled him with unutterable sadness.

"There are no dolls, no stuffed animals?" he asked.

"Every one we've ever given her is torn limb from limb within a day." The Vedek motioned Odo toward the exit doors. "Trust me, Mr. Odo, nothing has been overlooked in regard to her welfare. If the Prophets choose not to heal her, we must accept their wisdom. It would be best for you to forget you ever saw her."

Odo crossed his arms against his chest and took a step away from the door. "I want to talk to the child. Alone. With the camera turned off."

"I'm sorry. That's out of the question. I can't permit it."

"The child is a material witness to a crime. I have every right to question her."

The Vedek regarded him with dismay. "You would interrogate Haran about that horror? It would be unspeakably cruel. You don't strike me as a cruel man."

Odo made his features as expressionless as possible. "I have the authority to compel you to accede to my request. You may call General Gaban of the Bajoran militia security division if you don't believe me."

Dareyvian seemed to shrink into her robes. She bowed her head to him in defeat. "That won't be necessary. Please follow me."

***

Before entering the dormitory wing. Vedek Dareyvian went over the list of cautions she gave to everyone who met Haran for the first time. Don't argue with her when she tells you she's a dirty lizard-leaving. Don't attempt to touch her ("She springs back like she's been shocked; then she attacks you.") Be prepared for her garbled syntax and one-word answers, if you're lucky enough to get answers at all. And don't speak as we walk down the corridor; you've seen how outside noises agitate her.

So they wordlessly approached Haran's room. The Vedek pressed the entry chime, which made a soft musical sound, before deactivating the force field. Duly warned, the child scuttled on all fours into a corner of the room, crouching there like a frightened animal. "Haran," said Dareyvian, "Someone wants to meet you. This is Mr. Odo."

"Hello, Haran," he said.

The child looked down at the floor, ignoring them both. "Haran." The Vedek spoke slightly more sharply. "Did you hear Mr. Odo?"

The girl backed even further into the corner. But she muttered "H'lo" without ever looking up.

Dareyvian shrugged at Odo, as if to say, "I warned you." Turning once again to the little girl, she said, "I'm going to let you two get acquainted, all right?" The child sat unmoving, silent. "What do you say, Haran?" Nothing. Dareyvian's voice rose several decibels. "Haran, look at me and answer me." The child grudgingly raised her head and answered, "Haran say all right."

"I wish you a pleasant conversation, Mr. Odo," the Vedek said coolly as she left the room.

Having insisted on this meeting, Odo had to admit that he had no idea how to proceed. Fortunately for him, Haran showed him the way. Once she had gotten a good look at Odo, she continued to stare at him, fascinated. "You've never seen someone who looks like me, have you?" Odo asked. The child shook her head "no." "That's because I'm a Changeling, a shapeshifter. I can look like lots of different things. I have a face that doesn't belong to any particular humanoid species."

"Where bumps?" the child asked.

"Which bumps?"

Haran ran her hands over the part of the helmet that covered her forehead. Odo noticed that the finish was quite worn there. "Here bad bumps--Haran bad, dirty lizard-leaving." Then she rubbed the ridges of her Bajoran nose "Here good bumps like Vedek. Shifter no bumps--good or bad?"

"Well, my people don't think the way you look has anything to do with whether you're good or bad."

The child regarded him solemnly. "Shifter wrong."

He'd been told not to argue with her about such things. What now? This time the child provided no clue. She had bowed her head again and was saying nothing. Then Odo remembered another little girl, the hologram Taya, fascinated with the ways of Changelings. "Haran," he said, "watch me." She reluctantly looked up. Odo spun himself around and transformed into a spinning top. When he re-formed, the child had risen to her feet and was approaching him with a face transfigured by wonder. Every time he shifted in front of a child, Odo better understood the pervasive presence of Changelings in fairy tales throughout the Alpha Quadrant, on worlds that had never heard of the Founders. The concept of a shapeshifter seemed so integral to the childish imagination that those species who didn't know they truly existed had been compelled to invent them.

"Where spinner go?" asked the child, transfixed.

"It didn't go anywhere. It's just me in a different shape."

"No," Haran returned skeptically. "Where go?"

Odo decided to capitalize on her obvious curiosity. "Haran, I want you to think of something you'd very much like to see, and I'll change into it."

She regarded him suspiciously and made no reply. Odo reminded himself that, those flashes of the typical child to the contrary, she was hardly likely to emerge from her dark inner world for a few cheap tricks. He tried another tack. "Do you know what I'd like to see, I'd like to see what you look like without your hat. If I take it off, will you try not to hurt yourself?"

Haran gave no response, continuing to stand very still and look at him, her face now lapsed into blankness. "I'll probably regret this," Odo told himself, as he unhooked the helmet's clasp with slow and careful movements and then very gently removed it from her head. As he did so, her whole body stiffened, but she continued to stand unmoving, without speaking. He held the helmet in one hand behind his back and looked her in the eyes.

The child was heart-breakingly beautiful. Her hair, matted down by her headgear, framed her face in damp, jet-black ringlets. The not particularly prominent Cardassian spoon and eye-ridges set off her forehead as if she were wearing a circlet of jewels topped by a feather, the effect ruined only by the network of scars her self-hating little fingers had inflicted over the years. The pale blue eyes nestled close on either side of the fully-pronounced Bajoran nose ridges. The chin was very Cardassian, the ears decidedly Bajoran, but all-in-all a most attractive mix.

"My, my what a pretty little girl you are, Haran." Odo said.

Had he suddenly struck her, the reaction could not have been more violent. "Haran bad bumps, dirty lizard-leaving," she screamed, over and over, as the small hands flew to her forehead and began clawing at the offending features. He put down the helmet and pulled her hands away from her face, at which point she began striking out with her feet. Restraining her arms with one hand and holding her against his body, he reached for the helmet with his other, only to have her break free of his grip, continuing to claw herself, as well as charging against the force field. He picked up the helmet, and wrapped his free hand around her arms once again. Despite a thinness that allowed him to feel every bone, Haran was remarkably strong. Where was that child who was supposedly docile and obedient to adults? "What I need is another pair of hands," Odo thought in frustration, and then, inspired, produced them.

The girl was so astonished at the appearance of Odo's extra arms that she stopped struggling immediately and meekly accepted the reinstatement of the helmet. Odo released his hold and stepped back. "There, that's better," he said, as he reabsorbed the extra limbs. Although it seemed impossible, Haran's wide eyes got even wider, and her mouth hung open to a degree sufficient to accommodate a small nornda melon. "Sometimes it is very convenient to be a shapeshifter, don't you think, Haran?"

She didn't answer, although she did close her mouth. He tried again. "I told you I'd change into anything you wanted to see, and I will." He smiled encouragingly, "What would you like me to be?"

He could see in her face a struggle between temptation and apprehension. Finally temptation won. "Vole," she said. "Shifter be vole."

The request took Odo aback. A vole? She couldn't know what she was asking. A rodent species, widely dispersed throughout the quadrant, voles had not, however, been native to Bajor until they arrived in the cargo holds of Cardassian ships. The Cardassian subspecies was probably the largest in the galaxy--individual voles of nearly half a meter had been documented; legend insisted that some topped two meters. The animals were voracious eaters, and could now be found in granaries, replicators and restaurants, school dining halls, warehouses, and farms all over Bajor. Vole infestations regularly occurred on the station at least once or twice a year. "The part of the Occupation the Resistance couldn't end," Kira had joked during the last one.

Although the rodents were exclusively herbivorous, their propensity for licking at humanoid skin in pursuit of the salts contained in perspiration, combined with an innate aggressiveness exploited by the Cardassians in vole fights and vole races, had given rise to the myth of the carnivorous vole herds that devoured anyone unlucky enough to encounter them unawares. "Be good, or the voles will get you," had become a common threat of exasperated Bajoran parents to unruly children. And it was not just the children who believed. Odo recalled the time ten years before on Terok Nor when Dukat had pointedly told him of how the puppet Bajoran provincial police had greatly increased the number of suspects who confessed to crimes by stripping them to their underwear, tying their hands and feet, and locking them in a room with three or four voles. They were usually more than eager to admit their guilt within a quarter hour. "I prefer my own methods," Odo had replied in disgust, as the Cardassian gave him one of his insincere smiles and protested that it was just "a suggestion."

So why would Haran want him to shift into this creature of children's nightmares? "Haran, are you sure you know what a vole is?" he asked gently.

"Vole. Soft fur, blue nose, so big." The child held her hands about fifteen centimeters apart. "Fat," she added. "Shifter be vole."

"Well, well," Odo thought, mightily surprised,. "So there's someone in there after all". Haran's answer was not that of the half-tamed, barely articulate creature scuttling across the floor when the adults had entered. Though deprived of regular syntax, her description was concisely accurate and analytical, no doubt a product of the part of the child's mind that excelled at computer games. Clearly she *did* know what a vole was. And the insistence of her demand that he keep his promise didn't square with the cowering little girl so eager to tear out her Cardassian features and proclaim her own worthlessness. No, that "Shifter be vole" came directly from a sense of entitlement.

So there was nothing for it but to transform himself into a vole. Odo's form dissolved into flowing amber, then coalesced into rodent shape precisely the length Haran had indicated, with soft black fur, blue eyes, nose, paws, and stubby tail. It scrambled up on the top of the little table, rose up on its hind legs, and regarded the girl with a cunning expression.

A complete change came over the child almost at once. Her stiff posture relaxed, her expression softened. "Oh, Mister Vole," she cooed gently. "Nice vole, clean vole, come Haran." She held out her hands. Odo hesitated as he felt appropriate for one of the animals, then warily approached. She lightly stroked its fur with one hand while the other reached for one of the keva berries on her neglected lunch plate. "Here, nice vole," she said, holding out the berry. "Eat Haran food. No food bad, dirty Haran. Food nice, clean vole."

Odo found her statement so unsettling that he was loathe to confirm it by taking the berry. Yet she looked at his vole-self so eagerly, waving the treat a centimeter from his snout, that he eventually shot out a blue vole tongue and enfolded it within his substance. Haran clapped her hands together, and a lovely smile lit up her face. She extended her now empty hand. "Vole kiss?" Odo rubbed his snout with his front paws, then crept forward on all fours, and licked the girl's fingertips. She in turn leaned down and put her lips softly on the vole's head.

When she raised her head again, the Odo-vole scampered back down to the floor and re-formed into DS9's constable. "Haran, did you once have a vole for a pet?" he asked. Instead of answering, the child began to cry; her hands clawed at the front of her helmet. "Where Mr. Vole? Where Mr. Vole?" she whined desperately. Then she began to bang her forehead on the table. Odo caught hold of her and lifted her high above his head, as she screamed and flailed at him with all four limbs. Giving her a rather vigorous shake to get her attention, he stared at her steadily and said. "I'll bring Mr. Vole back if you promise to tell him about the other voles you've known. All right?" She continued to kick and scream for about two more minutes, until, limp with exhaustion, she sobbed out "Haran say all right, Mr. Shifter."

Odo placed her carefully on her bed, changed back into his vole shape, and perched expectantly at her feet. Haran, taking no chances on another disappearance, quickly scooped up the animal and gripped it tightly. She rocked back and forth silently on the edge of the bed for a while, then began to speak in tones little louder than a whisper. "Haran sleep barn. Voles sleep barn. Haran give voles food. Voles kiss Haran." The girl gave Odo a tight squeeze. "Nice voles." She was silent once more and started rocking again. Then she began to cry. Odo could feel the hot tears splashing on his vole body. The arms cradling him were trembling. Suddenly she shouted out between sobs, "Mean B'joran come Haran sleep. Say go 'way filthy Cardie vermin. Voles run, 'cept best vole Haran hold." She gripped Odo so hard that, if he had been a real vole, she might have crushed him. "Mean B'joran take vole. Haran say no, no, no hurt vole. Mean B'joran say Cardie vermin, two of kind. Shovel smash, smash, smash vole. Vole all broken." With a great shuddering sob she bent down and whispered in the rodent's flattened ear, "Just like Mommy!" The sobs increased in frequency, nearly choking off her next sentences: "Mean B'joran say Haran feed voles more, smash, smash Haran. Haran run, run, run." Her grip loosened, and she flung herself face down on the bed, crying inconsolably.

Odo ached as if the girl's pain were his own. He longed to gather her into his arms, to tell her she was not a "Cardie vermin." But he knew that she would take no such comfort from "Mr. Shifter." Remaining in vole shape, he burrowed under her arm and nuzzled her wet cheek with his flat blue nose. Her sobs gradually decreased in frequency, replaced at last by the regular breathing of healing sleep.

When he was sure she was asleep, Odo reverted to his gelatinous state and oozed noiselessly to the door. He shot up an amber tentacle to deactivate the force field, and only retook humanoid shape many meters down the corridor, when his footfall could not have disturbed Haran's rest. Intending kindness, he had awakened cruel memories. Best to forget her, as he'd been told.

***

His resolve to forget the child lasted all of three days. Perhaps he'd accepted the Vedek's diagnosis too easily; after all, she wasn't a physician. He needed to speak with Haran's psychiatrists. Her records showed that a Dr. Palo Tor had overseen her treatment at the Children's Psychiatric Institute.

An eminent-looking man with graying hair, an expensively wrought clan earring and a smooth manner, the doctor listened politely to Odo's account of his session with Haran. He commended Odo's compassion, noted that this did nothing to change the diagnosis, pleaded a succeeding appointment, and escorted the constable a bit too forcefully to the door.

All Odo's sensors were now on full red alert. These people didn't want the child to recover. Exhilarated that he was not just an irrational sentimentalist driven inexplicably to save a child who could not be saved, but a law enforcement officer on the trail of a conspiracy, he returned to his office and dug more deeply into Haran's medical file. While Dr. Palo was the supervising physician on the case, the child's treatment had included daily therapy sessions with a child psychologist, a Dr. Venem Mura. After four months, the therapist had been changed, even though Dr. Venem remained on staff. He contacted her at once, asking her to meet with him on a security matter involving Haran.

When she appeared in his office at precisely 1400 hours the next day, as they had arranged, he was confronted by a young woman with shoulder-length, brownish hair, and an appearance of general disarray--contradicted by an alarming directness of manner. "So, are you just after damage control, or has Haran actually surfaced on someone's sensor array?" she said immediately after sitting down.

"I beg your pardon?" Truly this affair was growing stranger by the moment.

Dr. Venem leaned back in her chair and scrutinized him for several seconds. Her manner softened somewhat. "This isn't a security matter at all, is it, Chief Odo?"

"No, it's not. How did you know?"

She laughed a loud, hearty laugh. "I am a psychologist, after all--and a damn good one, if I do say so myself. So, how did you hear about Haran?"

"My wife and I adopted a baby from the Home, and we happened to see Haran. It seemed so cruel to keep a child in that state, and I wanted to help her."

"And everybody told you she was beyond help?"

"Yes," Odo replied. "And after I spoke with her I feared they were right."

Venem leaned forward eagerly. "They let you speak with her? I suppose it's too much to hope that you spoke with her alone."

"We were alone. It turned out to be quite a disaster."

"Tell me about it. Don't leave out any details," said the woman in her typically demanding way.

He recounted the interview as well as he could recall it, and with the memory of a Changeling and the powers of observation of a policeman, it was a fairly vivid recollection. Dr. Venem's reaction was all excitement, 180 degrees from Dr. Palo's grave equanimity.

"I knew it! I always said she'd open up to an alien--no insult taken I hope?"

Odo shook his head and smiled reassuringly. "Why did you think that she'd speak to an alien, doctor? She's terrified of strangers."

"Bajoran strangers. Chief Odo, Haran lives in a world that's structured around a single polar opposition: Bajoran or Cardassian. She's been taught that Bajorans are clean and good and that they hate and destroy anything that's Cardassian or has been sullied by Cardassians: her mother, herself, the 'Cardie vermin.' She fears Bajorans and tries to placate them by confessing her own worthlessness at the slightest provocation. I loved that child, and I could never get through to her. I don't think any Bajoran can, at least not at this stage. And as for her fellow hybrids, well they're dirty and bad, like she is, and she strikes out at them just as she strikes out at her 'bad bumps.' I pleaded with Dr. Palo to transfer her to a Federation facility and let her be treated by doctors who are neither Bajoran or Cardassian. Instead he took me off the case and assigned her to a different therapist at the Institute, who made no more progress than I had."

"Why wouldn't he listen to you? Professional jealousy?"

"Oh, no," Dr. Venem said. "Bajoran security. That's why I was so suspicious when you contacted me. Haran's a particularly horrific example, but she's just the tip of an iceberg. When she was found, Bajor was on the verge of joining the Federation. Once the Terrans and their ilk were informed of her history, so that they could provide the most effective treatment, they were bound to start asking questions the Council of Ministers and the Vedek Assembly didn't want answered. Do you think those noble Federation diplomats would have been impressed to learn just how many 'Cardie-whores' and collaborators disappeared in the years after the Occupation ended, how many hybrid children starved or had unfortunate accidents? I guess you finally got through because you're the lone alien who's also a high-ranking officer in the Bajoran militia. I had hoped, that now we're in the Federation, someone would come to their senses and give Haran a chance."

"I'm afraid that the cover-up is still in full force, given the way I've been 'handled' thus far," Odo observed. "Do you really believe Haran has a chance, Doctor?"

"Odo--you don't mind if I just call you Odo?--even talking to Haran for a very short time, you must have noticed that she perceives people in terms of categories. We're either 'mean B'joran hurt Haran,' or 'good B'joran tell Haran'--that's for those of us she perceives as not dangerous as long as she does as we ask. And then, of course, there are the spoon-head scum and the dirty lizard leavings. I imagine you presented her quite a challenge, but I'll stake my reputation that she didn't solve it by calling you by name."

"Your reputation is safe. She called me 'Mr. Shifter.'"

"Of course. She's a very quick learner," Venem smiled. "I'm sure you have noticed the one inconsistency in this little system, however."

"She calls herself by name."

"Precisely. She's never just one of many lizard-leavings, always Haran. I've always thought, despite everything those bastards in Fiseneth did to beat it out of her, that she's got a tough little ego, that she knows she deserves better than what life's handed her."

"I sensed the same thing," Odo agreed. "But how does that square with all the terrible things she says about herself, the ways she hurts herself?"

"Your story about the voles explained a lot to me about the way her mind is working. She told you that the vole was good, clean, deserved food, right?"

"Yes, unlike 'bad, dirty Haran.' I assumed that she made the distinction because she identifies the vole with her mother."

"Partly that's no doubt the case," the doctor admitted, "But I was fascinated by her remembering that the Bajoran said that Haran and the vole were two of a kind. If she can still love those 'Cardie vermin,' then deep down a small part of her can still love herself."

"Do you have any idea how to bring that part to the surface, doctor?"

"I'm not certain. However, your story gives me some clues for proceeding. You know, Haran hardly ever tries to harm herself when she's alone. She usually requires an audience."

"Are you suggesting that she's only faking her self-hatred?" asked Odo. "It seemed terribly sincere to me."

"It's a complex phenomenon. I'm not disputing that any child told often enough that she's just a piece of refuse is bound to develop severe problems with self-esteem. Here's how I think Haran perceives her situation. She lives in a world controlled by mean Bajorans bent on hurting and killing lizard-leavings like herself. The only way to placate them is never to challenge their verdict on just how dirty and worthless she is. So she insists vehemently on her badness. And she's learned from two traumatic experiences that any other creature that has had the bad judgment to love her--her mother, the pet vole--will meet a brutal end. I think that's why she becomes so violently agitated when we try to assure her that she is pretty, and good, and deserving of love. She's afraid *for* us, not of us. It's her way of protecting us from the terrible fate that's waiting if we don't join the chorus of hybrid-haters.

"Her torment is probably even worse than that of a child who believes completely that she deserves nothing better than abuse. Imagine feeling instinctively that you do have a right to kindness and respect while at the same time being absolutely convinced that neither you nor anyone else can assert that right without being killed." The doctor shook her head in dismay.

"Then the solution," Odo said thoughtfully "is to show her that someone can care for her and not suffer for it."

"Yes, precisely." Venem agreed enthusiastically. "I suppose you investigators have to be pretty clever psychologists, too. Until we break her out of her 'good bump-bad bump' surroundings, however, I don't think that it will be possible to demonstrate that effectively to her. If we could simply modify her behavior sufficiently to place her in a less-controlled Federation child care facility, with a nicely diverse population, she might gradually come to the realization that the universe is full of countless individuals who relate to each other as "I" and "you" and "we" and "they," rather than keep viewing everyone through a set of very limited and arbitrary abstractions sufficient only to sort out good from bad."

"With what you've learned now, couldn't you make another attempt?" Odo inquired.

"I'd be more than willing, if I could get access to Haran again," Venem said. "There's another way, though." she added thoughtfully. "What if I taught you the behavior modification techniques and you went through them with Haran? It will be so much easier if no Bajoran is involved in the initial stages of the therapy."

It was an actual chance to help the child, the goal Odo had started out with but feared was unattainable. "Yes, of course, I'd be willing, " he responded eagerly, "but how am I to get continued access to the child? I can't very well keep pretending I'm investigating her mother's murder."

"True. You must have some clout, though, more than I do at any rate. Wait--do you have any influence with Kai Winn?"

"Does anyone?" Odo grinned ruefully. "I know her. I assume she's been instrumental in keeping Haran off limits to the rest of the galaxy. Her order runs the orphanage, and there was a holo-image of her on Haran's wall."

"She's not quite the villain in the case you imagine," the doctor replied. "The time when Haran was found was a time when the Kai had grave misgivings about our joining the Federation. She would probably have been delighted to have the whole matter out in the open if it could have delayed our entrance. Of course the Dominion War took care of that. She did come to visit Haran once. The little girl's pagh was so filled with intense pain and anger that it knocked the Kai to her knees when she felt it. Later she spent an hour alone with the child, and actually got through to her better than most Bajorans have. I think she truly grieves for Haran. Several days after the visit, she sent Haran her picture, and every week a letter arrives with a homily from the Kai, written just for Haran. Winn started out her novitiate restoring our ancient scrolls, and she still likes to write down words on paper. Haran keeps each letter in a little folder under her bed, and when she prays, she does it facing the Kai's image."

"Haran prays?" Odo asked, disbelieving.

"Well, the Vedeks have trained her to take the prayerful position, which she does every evening before going to bed. She doesn't speak the words to any prayers, but perhaps she communes with the Prophets in her own way," the doctor explained. "If you would speak to Winn, we might be able to go ahead with our plan, Odo."

"I'll do the best I can. I am certainly grateful for your candor and your concern for Haran, doctor."

"I'm likewise grateful that you've taken an interest in her, Odo. But, if you don't mind my asking, why are you so interested in the child?"

Odo hardly wanted to explain to this psychologist any of the personal feelings that were driving him. He didn't need her to start analyzing him as she had Haran. So he simply replied, "I believe in justice, Doctor. And I don't think Haran's been afforded much justice in her life."

***

The rest was surprisingly easy. Upon hearing Dr. Venem's proposal from Odo, the Kai quickly acquiesced. "I would have intervened before now, but Dr. Palo and Vedek Dareyvian were so very certain nothing else could be done for the poor child." And so Odo took the next step, from curiosity and concern about the child to active commitment in trying to better her lot. He managed to arrange his schedule so that he could spend one hour two or three times a week with Haran. Each time Vedek Dareyvian escorted him to Haran's room with an icy politeness, always leaving him with the same words, "I can be there immediately, if you discover you've gotten out of your depth."

Dr. Venem had him engage in a series of games with Haran in which she won by avoiding her obsessive and self-destructive behaviors even when encountering a stimulus that usually triggered them. For instance, there was "hands on the table," in which Haran was required to remain still, with her helmet off, while he touched her face, or told her she was a very good little girl. At first, she could still win if she restrained her hands while verbally challenging his praise. Later she had to remain quiet as well as still. After a number of "prizes" were tried, he discovered that a promised brief reappearance of Mr. Vole was the greatest spur to victory. On his own, Odo hit upon the strategy of endowing Mr. Vole with a voice (over Haran's strenuous objections that "Voles no talk.") with which he reinforced the animal's love and concern for his "good friend Haran." The vole also regularly delivered small pieces of food to Haran and urged her to eat, lest "Mr. Vole become very sad." Usually she obliged him.

Their sessions continued for two months. There were some steps forward and many regressions. It was generally possible for them to get through the whole hour with Haran's helmet off. She began winning the behavioral games about 50% of the time. The staff reported that she had begun to eat more promptly, and finished the food sooner. Outings with the other children, however, continued to be marked by violent outbursts. The one day they tried letting her into the playground without restraining her hands, she broke the nose of a five-year-old who asked her to come play with him.

As they spent more and more time together, Odo realized how attached he was becoming to Haran, and how hopeless such an attachment was. Should he succeed, after all, they would merely ship her off to one of the newly established Federation facilities for Dominion War orphans. Should he not, he would soon go back to DS9, and their sessions would still end. Whether she enjoyed his visits, beyond the eagerly anticipated appearances of Mr. Vole, he couldn't tell. She never ran to the door to greet him, instead crouched in the same corner where he had first encountered her. He'd have to say "Hello, Haran, do you want to play today?" and she would mutter, "Haran play, Mr. Shifter," and then slowly get up and sit wherever he told her to. She never displayed any emotion when he left, although she had lately, without prompting, begun to reply "Shifter see Haran soon" when he said good-bye.

During his twenty-fifth therapy session, Odo was lightly tracing the ridges on Haran's forehead with his two index fingers, while saying "Haran is a pretty girl," just as the doctor had instructed him to do in this advanced phase of "hands on the table." The child endured his touch for under a minute before she grabbed his hands with her own and slammed them onto the table surface. "Haran bad bumps ugly. Shifter no touch," she said firmly.

Odo sighed, "Now look what you've done Haran, you've lost the game. Mr. Vole won't be able to come today."

She bowed her head and bit her lip. Then, without looking up, she said, "How Shifter be vole?"

"Do you mean, how can I change shape?" He tried to rephrase her question calmly, for he knew this was a breakthrough. She never initiated conversational subjects, unless to advise people of her status as dirty lizard-leaving.

She nodded, her eyes still downcast.

"I just do. It's part of who I am; I can change shape like birds can fly or fish can swim."

She looked up then, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze, leaned forward and rubbed her own small hands over his smooth face. Her blue eyes began to fill with tears. "Oh, Mr. Shifter," she pleaded, "Learn Haran change. Make Haran not dirty lizard-leaving."

Odo rose, reached out and took her into his arms. "I wish I could do that for you Haran; it's just not possible," he said softly, hugging her tightly. "But you don't have to change for me. I like you just the way you are.." Her response was to kick at him forcefully until he put her down. Then she ran to her usual corner and sat with her back toward him, refusing to have anything more to do with him.

He gave up and left her room. "Therapy or not, she'll never get any better locked up in there," he said to himself. In an instant he resolved to do something he had long contemplated and long dismissed as madness. When he headed home from the orphanage that afternoon, he took Haran with him.

***

Odo set the ground car on automatic course to his and Kira's house, and leaned back in his seat to contemplate his folly. Haran, strapped into the seat beside him, sat wide-eyed, breathing in short, strangled gasps, accompanied by pathetic little moans, all ten fingers beating a relentless tattoo on the front of her helmet. The child was clearly terrified, as she had been ever since he dragged her writhing, wailing self out of her room, out of the orphanage, and into the car. All his assurances that they were going to a beautiful new place where they would have lots of fun, where Mr. Vole would definitely make many visits, did nothing to calm her.

Had he lost his mind? He'd called Dr. Venem before taking this step, and that's what her reaction had been. She warned him sternly about undoing all the progress they had made. Vedek Dareyvian had absolutely forbidden him to take Haran, and he'd practically had to pull a phaser on her before she gave way to his absolute determination to carry through with his plan. And what exactly was his plan? To make Haran a part of his family, this wounded little wild beast? He was hardly being fair to cheerful, loving baby Notar. Not to mention Nerys, to whom he had never quite gotten around to confessing his ever-deepening involvement with the child these last two months. No, none of it made any sense, and yet its senselessness could do nothing to combat his absolute certainty that he must get that child out of the lab--

"Hmf," he said out loud, drawing a sidelong glance from the frightened little girl. As he patted her on the shoulder, he smiled and shook his head. He'd tried not to admit to himself what had just crossed his mind unbidden, that from the first time he had seen that sad, frail creature caroming off the force field, he could not separate her in his thoughts from the frightened, zapped, poked, and prodded beaker of "nothing" that had been his childish Changeling self.

The car beeped its arrival at the programmed location. As he unbelted Haran's safety harness, he said to her with grim humor, "Come, let's go give a big surprise to Mr. Shifter's wife, Nerys."

***

One of the games Odo had played with Haran aimed at getting her to allow adults to hold her hand when leading her from place to place. It was not a game she'd ever won. Now, however, he was grateful to see that she not only hadn't pulled her hand away, but that she was gripping his quite fiercely. They walked between the tall graceful flowers that lined the approach to the front door of the sandy-colored stone bungalow with its slanting coppery roof. Odo punched the entry code into the door and, with Haran huddling close beside him, paused in the entry foyer.

"Nerys, I'm home. I've brought a guest with me," he called out.

"I'll be there in a second. I'm just getting Notar down for his nap," came her voice from down the hall.

Odo led Haran to the large living room that opened off the right of the hall. Soon Nerys came into view, dressed in a bright blue tunic over paler blue leggings, wiping her hands on a towel. "I'm sorry not to be more presentable," she said to the still unseen guest. "Odo isn't always good about giving me advanced warning about these--" Turning into the living room, she caught sight of the child and broke off, a look of questioning incredulity on her face.

"Nerys," Odo began, gently pushing the child forward. "This is Haran. She's going to stay with us for a while."

Before Kira could say anything, Haran exploded. "Mean B'joran hurt Haran, mean B'joran hurt Haran," she screamed, pressing up against Odo and clawing frantically at the part of him that mimicked a uniform. Looking helplessly at the increasingly befuddled Nerys, he picked the child up. For once, she didn't struggle but held onto him with all her might. At that moment Haran's screams were echoed by those of an awakened Notar.

"Great," said Kira, through clenched teeth. "I'll see to Notar. When you've got our little *guest* settled, meet me on the verandah, where we'll be out of earshot of the children. I think we have a lot of talking to do."

Odo took Haran to their guest room and set her down on the bed. She banged the back of her head against the wall a few times and looked accusingly at Odo. "Mean B'joran hurt Haran. Make mean B'joran go 'way, Mr. Shifter."

Odo sat next to her on the bed. "Nerys is not a mean Bajoran. She is a very good Bajoran. She is my wife, and I love her. And she isn't going anywhere. This house belongs to her and me. We live here. We would like you to live here, too." Haran glared at him, and gave a few more half-hearted bangs of her head against the wall. "Well, we can deal with that later. Why don't you stay here and get used to your room while I go talk with Nerys. I've brought some of your game PADDs for you to play with." She took them from him grudgingly. When he rose to go, however, she grabbed his arm, "No leave Haran, mean B'joran hurt."

"I'll lock the door, if it will make you feel safer." She nodded. He turned and wagged a finger at her. "But I want to make it clear to you, Haran. Nerys would never, ever hurt you." He closed the door behind him, keyed in the lock code, and walked toward the verandah. "Now, me on the other hand. .." he said to himself with a rueful chuckle.

***

Kira was pacing up and down on the porch, arms swinging, fists clenched. Well, he'd known there was going to be a scene. He composed himself, formed what he hoped was a particularly ingratiating smile, and walked into the room.

"I assume that Haran is that emotionally disturbed child from the Home for Hybrid Children you were so obsessed about a few months ago?" Kira asked.

"Yes, she is."

"And what the hell is she doing here?"

He gave her, slowly and painstakingly, the entire story. Haran's background, his involvement with her, and his intention that they should adopt her. Then he leaned back against one of the roof supports, crossed his arms against his chest, and prepared for the onset of "typhoon Nerys." She didn't disappoint him. Indeed, the force of her anger was even more than he had prepared himself to face. He hadn't seen her so mad at him since his defection during the Dominion Occupation. Outraged question after question hit him as if he were a runabout in a meteor shower. How could he have gotten in so deeply with this child without saying a word to her? Wasn't the decision to adopt another child one for the two of them to make together? Didn't he trust her? Did he really imagine they were equipped to take on someone like Haran? What about the threat she posed to Notar? Why would he jeopardize their hard-won happiness for this?

When she paused for breath, he said quietly. "If I had admitted to myself that I was even thinking about adopting the child, I would have told you, Nerys. I kept fooling myself that I was merely helping in her therapy. It only hit me today, and then the impulse was so strong that I just bundled her up and brought her home, without considering your rights in the matter."

"My rights in the matter, Odo! Prophets, this isn't one of your criminal cases!" She was calming down now, after the initial eruption, and her next words were less vehement in tone. "Listen, I know you have a soft spot for foundlings and strays. Don't you think my heart goes out to her, too? I know what it is to lose your mother when you're very young. I'm terribly ashamed of what my fellow Bajorans did to her. But don't you see that the damage has been done? We'd just be opening ourselves, and Haran, up for heartache if we tried to have her with us. She'll be better off in an institution, just like everyone has told you. We'll handle her as best we can overnight, and you'll take her back to Vedek Dareyvian in the morning."

He looked at her steadily. "The child will not grow up in a cage. I simply won't permit it, Nerys." It was the tone she'd often heard him take with newly arrived visitors to DS9 who didn't want to abide by station rules. It was the tone that meant he'd never back down. They were clearly at an impasse. Kira sat down and buried her head in her hands. The tension between them had grown so intense, she imagined it would have registered on a tricorder.

Odo approached her and knelt by her side. "You can't know how much this means to me Nerys. Please, can't we at least give it a try?" he asked, taking both her hands in his. She looked up into his face, seeing now not resolute determination, only pain. It finally dawned on her what was going on. What was that he'd once said to Julian, that seven years as Dr. Mora's lab rat was quite enough? She enfolded his head in her arms and kissed him. "That's what it was like for you in that lab, scared and angry and beating your head against the wall?"

"The gelatinous equivalent," he responded wryly.

She kissed him again, and, taking his hands back into hers, said. "All right. We'll give it a try. But, Odo, we've got to know that we can make her part of our family, without destroying our family, if she never gets any better than this. You can't build our hopes, or hers, on some slim chance of her one day becoming a normal child."

"I'm not going to give up on her, Nerys."

"I'm not asking you to give up. I just want us both to be prepared to love her as she is. Because otherwise this will never work."

"You're right, of course," Odo admitted.

"Well, as long as we've got that established," Kira grinned. "I think our next step is to stop her being scared senseless by her new mother."

***

Odo had hit upon the plan of shifting into Mr. Vole and having Kira show her affection for him as a way to reassure Haran that his wife fell into the category of "good Bajoran." As they stood outside the guest room door, however, she was continuing her protest against said plan.

"A vole, Odo? It gives me the shivers. I don't want to pet and cuddle some dirty vermin."

"You can't let Haran see your revulsion," he replied, exasperated. "She thinks that she and the vole are both vermin. She has to know that you feel differently. Besides, it won't be a real vole. It will be me, your clean, loving husband."

Kira took deep breath, "All right. Just don't you bite me, or I won't be responsible for my actions."

The little drama had actually gone rather well. Odo had carefully explained to Haran how delighted Nerys was to have her in their home, what a good Bajoran she was, how much fun it would be for Haran to do things for her. The child had huddled on the bed in skeptical silence, but had neither screamed nor banged her head. Then Odo became Mr. Vole, accepted Haran's hugs and kisses, and then jumped into Nerys's arms. As Nerys gingerly stroked his fur, he licked her arm, saying to Haran, "See, Mr. Vole likes to kiss the good Bajoran." While this display still provoked no response from the child, she did allow Kira to remove her helmet and change her into her night clothes without kicking and protesting. They didn't think it would be wise to try to make the child join the family for supper so soon, so they left a plate of her few favorite foods in the room and said "Good night." She had gone back to her game PADD before they were even out of the room. After much debate on the subject, they had decided not to lock the door.

Odo sat at the kitchen table feeding mashed llenirs to Notar, who was, as usual, eager for spoonful after spoonful. Haran was apparently content to stay in her room, in which all was for the moment quiet. As Kira finished her own meal, she said, "So far so good, eh 'Mr. Vole.'"

"I do suppose that I'll have to wean her from him gradually," Odo answered sheepishly.

"Oh, I don't know. He is kind of cute. And that little blue tongue has definite possibilities."

"Nerys!" he said in mock indignation, "You are a most wicked woman."

"Just wait till tonight," she replied suggestively.

Alas, the night held not wicked desire for Odo and Kira, but the sounds, every hour or so, of Haran crying out from her nightmares. They would learn, during the weeks that followed, that she never slept through a night without the torment of terrible dreams, which were so routine that they no longer even wakened her, nor responded to adult attempts at comfort. When they at their wits end contacted Vedek Dareyvian about the nightmares, she had only said smugly, "We've found it best over the years to treat them as no different from snoring. Perhaps you need to soundproof her bedroom."

The next day, however, showed more promise. Apparently Haran's morning ritual included throwing herself against the force field to attract the attention of her caregivers. When she threw herself against this door, however, it automatically slid open, and she landed in a heap in the hallway. Kira restrained Odo from running to see what had happened, and after an initial retreat back into the bedroom, the child got down on her hands and knees and began warily exploring the rest of the house, eventually finding Odo, Kira, and Notar at breakfast in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Haran," said Kira brightly, as if children crawled into her kitchen all the time.. "What would you like for breakfast?"

The little girl scrambled over to Odo and cautiously climbed into the chair next to him. Then her eyes landed on Notar. Pointing at him, she cried out in animated disgust, "Dirty lizard-leaving! Dirty, bad lizard-leaving!"

Odo had been expecting this. "You're wrong, Haran. Notar is our son, and we love him."

Haran gave him a pouting, incredulous glare. "Mr. Shifter wrong," she said. He knew better than to argue, and the child made no further protest, although her hands crept up to her eye-ridges.

"Hands on the table, Haran!" Odo sternly admonished. She put them where he had requested and sat silently at the table, casting disapproving glances at Notar, until they all got up. A plate of ratera eggs and kava rolls Kira had placed before her was untouched. Removing them, Kira indicated the food preserver. "If you want these later, just push this button, Haran." The child nodded. "Come, we'll get you washed and dressed now, all right?" She extended her hand. Haran ignored it but did head off back to the bedroom, taking a surreptitious poke at Notar on the way out. He wailed piteously at his unseeing parents. "Oh, what's the matter with the baby? He can't want more food," Kira said.

"You deal with Haran; I'll calm him down," Odo offered.

Haran was standing stock still in the middle of her room when Kira entered. She made no moves either to help or hinder as Kira removed her night gown, and activated the sonic sanitizer. "Just step in there for a minute. We'll introduce you to old-fashioned soap and water later." The child didn't move but also permitted Kira to pick her up and place her in the sanitizer. Kira then removed her, dressed her, and combed her hair, only this last gesture provoking some squirming resistance. On an impulse, Kira did not put on her helmet.

"There. You're all ready for the day. I'm going to go out to the garden with Notar. Odo's working in his office down the hall, that way. You can play in your room or come with one of us. And you know where we are if you need us." Greeted with more silence, she turned and went out into the garden, after stopping to retrieve the baby from the kitchen.

That was the strategy they had formulated together as the child's screams kept them awake that first night. They would provide her basic needs, indicate their acceptance of her, and then make no demands. As it turned out, the only major alteration to their life in Dahkur that Haran's addition to the family required was constant vigilance when she was around Notar. They had to lock him in his room when he napped after she went in one afternoon and threw him out of his crib. Gradually their very insistent rebukes curbed most of her attempts at outright violence, although she never failed to advise them, "Get rid dirty lizard-leaving" every time the four of them were together. They made it a ritual to respond in exactly the same words, "We can't do that. Notar is our son and we love him."

Progress came very slowly, but it came. After ten days she began eating at least a bite or two of her meals as they all sat together at the table. Odo showed her how to use the food replicator in her room, and she soon found her own contentment as an inveterate midnight snacker. After five days of remaining in her room unless specifically summoned elsewhere, she began to explore the house and grounds, taking particular interest in helping Kira pull weeds from the garden. She also liked to look over their shoulders when they were reviewing communications from the station, asking "What that?" as various unknown species' faces appeared on the viewscreen. A week into her stay, she wanted a closer look at a Bolian malefactor whom station security believed might be hiding out on Bajor, and climbed carefully into Odo's lap to get a better view. Thereafter, she frequently sat there anytime he was busy at his workstation.

They never did put her back in the helmet. This resulted in the occasional facial laceration, but these were not really dangerous or permanently disfiguring. After one of the more intense scoldings about her treatment of Notar, she gave a single, ferocious bang of her unhelmeted head against the wall, knocked herself momentarily unconscious, and never did it again. Gingerly rubbing the large knot that this tantrum produced on the back of her skull, she said earnestly to Odo and Kira, "Really bad bump," and then gave a tiny, mischievous grin. And they both laughed as they realized that there was a sly, self-conscious wit underneath all the fear and self-loathing.

A month after Odo had brought her home, he and Kira were putting Notar to bed, each of them kissing and cuddling with the roly-poly little boy before laying him in his crib, then each tousling his hair and saying "Good-night, Notar my love." They turned to go and saw Haran standing in the doorway. "Get rid dirty lizard-leaving," she said in a quiet, steady voice.

They led her out into the hall, lest she upset the baby, locked the door, and gave her the ritual answer, "We can't. Notar is our son and we love him." She trotted ahead of them down the hall, then suddenly wheeled around and looked at them searchingly. "Mr. Shifter and Good B'joran love Haran?"

They both caught their breath and exchanged glances, Kira's indicating that Odo should be the one to answer. "Yes, we do. We love you very much, Haran."

She pondered his answer gravely for almost a minute, then cast her eyes down and began rubbing her "spoon." In a voice that expressed utter astonishment that two people could be so obtuse, she said softly, "No, nobody love Haran."

As Kira choked back her tears, Odo gently picked the little girl up. "Let's go and play with Mr. Vole, all right, Haran?"

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Haran say all right."

In bed that night they decided that it was significant that she had at least asked, and that their declaration of affection had aroused only quiet disagreement rather than full-fledged hysteria. The next day, they submitted their formal application to adopt her.

There was, of course, resistance from the Vedek, but Kai Winn interceded, and the legalities were expedited, and Haran was officially their daughter a full week before they were scheduled to return to their duties on Deep Space Nine. Since they were now certain that Haran wouldn't be going back to the orphanage, Odo supervised the packing up of those few possessions of hers that had been left in her room there. He and Kira had intended to leave them packed for the trip to the station, but Haran immediately tore open the container, burrowing through PADDs and pajamas, until she triumphantly unearthed the holo-image of Kai Winn. Holding it up to the wall of her bedroom, she shouted excitedly "Kai Winn, Kai Winn!" Odo activated the adhesive pack on the back and affixed it above her computer station, as it had been at the orphanage. A few seconds more digging unearthed the folder in which the Kai's letters were kept. The child knelt on the floor beneath the picture in the suppliant's position, spread out the letters before her, and apparently went into a state of deep meditation. Odo and Kira backed quietly out of the room.

"What is that all about, Odo," Kira asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Um, apparently Haran considers Kai Winn her own personal representative of the Prophets on Bajor. She always prays before her image," Odo said disingenuously.

Kira laughed. "All I can say is that it's damn lucky the adoption's final. Violence, bad language, and head banging I can handle, but Winn worship!"

"Hardly a matter of luck, my dear Nerys. You don't think I would have ever let that little peculiarity of hers come to your attention before she had firmly wrapped herself around your heart."

Kira put her arm tenderly around his waist, "Oh, Odo, and people think you're so blunt and straightforward. Someday I'll have to tell them what a devious Changeling I'm married to." As he kissed her forehead, she added, "As to what a precious little vole you make, that, I think will remain a family secret."