Restoration
4. Desperate Times
Telor sat in the hospital's spacious garden feeling lost and alone. It had been two days since Gin had told him the news of Kaskar's death, and he'd had nobody to talk to about it. His father had been busy tending patients—apparently there was an outbreak of some disease in the city—and all of the other doctors had been similarly occupied. Gin had not been back since, but if her schedule remained true, she'd probably come back tomorrow, to report to Damar. Telor had spent some time with the Legate, talking to him about unimportant things such as the weather, and how well the flowers were growing in the garden, but he might as well have been talking to a wall, for all the response he got.
It was so frustrating! Here, in the hospital, he had very little idea about what was happening in the rest of the city, or on the rest of the planet. He was cut off. Isolated. Yesterday he'd gone to the front gates, to see if he could get answers out of some of the petitioners, but as soon as they saw him they'd bombarded him with questions; Where was Legate Damar? Why wasn't he here to speak to them? Were rumours of his survival nothing more than lies? Overwhelmed, he'd retreated back into the hospital. Now, the cries of the petitioners were still audible, but dim, and he ignored them as best he could, focusing instead on the songs of the birds which flitted through the trees.
Kaskar was dead. Yes, Telor had had other friends, but Kaskar had been his best friend. They were as close as brothers. And now Telor was alone. If Kaskar was dead, his other friends probably were too. Everybody was abandoning him. First his mother, then Kaskar. His father was too busy to see him, Legate Damar was in some sort of waking coma, and Gin could only find time to stop by once every three days. It wasn't fair. Why had the Dominion done this? Why had they tried to wipe out his people? Why had they killed helpless men, women and children? Not even Klingons were cruel enough to slaughter the helpless.
"Did he say when they're moving him?" asked a voice, and Telor froze. From his sitting place, on one of the higher branches of a tree in the garden, he could see everything down below him, though he was screened from view by a large collection of leaves in front of him. Now, he saw two of the younger doctors walking by; they must have been off-duty, because they weren't wearing their medical uniforms.
"Tomorrow afternoon, once the Ambassador's gone," the second man said.
"That's a shame," replied the first doctor. "I really hoped he'd come around. Still, I suppose it will make things a little quieter around here. Once the crowd outside realise Legate Damar's been moved to a new location, they'll go back to their homes and stop making so much noise."
Telor's heart was pounding in his chest as he watched the two men leave, their next words lost to his ears. Legate Damar was being moved? It couldn't be! If he was moved, Telor wouldn't be able to see him every day. Gin wouldn't come to give her reports. The Legate would never recover... he could only imagine what sort of place the Legate would be moved to. High security, no windows, even worse food than what the hospital provided...
He couldn't let it happen. He had to speak to his father. Merak Rokann would know what to do.
He climbed down from the tree as swiftly as he was able, ignoring the scratches his hands received from the sharp bark. His heart still pounding, he raced into the hospital, and almost collided with the first doctor he met.
"Have you seen my father anywhere?" he demanded breathlessly.
"He's on the second floor," she replied, with a puzzled expression on her face. "Is everything okay, Telor?"
But it was too late; Telor had already rushed off towards the staircase, his legs aching as he took the stairs in pairs. "Father?" he called, when he stepped out of the stairwell and onto the second floor corridor. "Father, where are you?"
"Telor?" said one of the other doctors, sticking his head out of a room. "What's wrong, boy? You're making enough noise to wake the dead."
"Where is my father?"
"In the transporter room, seeing off a couple of council members."
Telor didn't wait for any further explanation. He set off at a fast jog, weaving his way through the corridors, dodging doctors and patients who sprang up before him. By the time he reached the transporter room he was winded and breathless, but adrenaline was coursing through his body. As the door opened before him, he shouted, "You can't move Legate Damar!"
Gul Amaro, who was standing on the transporter pad next to Garak, waiting to be dematerialised, gave a dismissive snort.
"The decision has already been made, boy."
"It's for the best, son," said his father, resting a hand on his shoulder. "The rabble outside are making daily operations difficult, and with Legate Damar's recovery looking unlikely, it's time to move him to somewhere better equipped to deal with his needs in the long-term. This is an emergency hospital, not a care centre."
"You don't understand!" he blurted out. "He is getting better. He moved. The other day. I saw him!"
"The boy will say anything to keep the Legate here," Amaro said dismissively. But Garak stepped down from the transport pad, and subjected Telor to a penetrating stare. It was all Telor could do not to squirm beneath the man's cold blue eyes.
"If he moved on his own before now, why is it only now you're mentioning it?"
"Because..." he began, trying to find the best way to explain it without implicating the ambassador. But he could find no way, so he decided that it would be better to tell the truth. "Because Gin said it would be better not to tell you. She was there too. In fact," he said, grasping wildly at straws, "she's why Legate Damar moved. If you take him away, she won't be able to give him the Federation reports, and then he'll never get better!"
"Gin?" Garak asked, clearly confused.
"Ambassador Fox," he elaborated.
"I think you had better tell us everything," his father said, and Telor could tell he was not pleased about this deception. "From the beginning."
And so he did. He told them of how he'd met Gin, and the things they'd talked about, and how she'd expressed an interest in fresh korat stalks. He told them how he'd brought her rulot seeds too, and how Legate Damar had picked one up and examined it for several minutes. Then he told them what Gin had said, about not telling anybody else. This last piece of information was met with mixed reactions.
"I knew that treacherous viper couldn't be trusted!" Amaro growled, his intense dislike of the ambassador finally vindicated.
"If this is true," Garak said thoughtfully, ignoring the Gul's outburst, "it changes things."
"It is true!" Telor assured him.
"The ambassador is due to make another report tomorrow," Garak continued. "I suggest we install a surveillance device inside Damar's room, and observe what happens."
"This is a waste of time. Nothing will happen, because Legate Damar is not recovering. There have been no changes since he was first brought here," Amaro said.
"Are you calling my son a liar, Gul Amaro?" Telor's father asked coldly.
"I believe he has an over-active imagination, and that he doesn't want the Legate to leave. If I was his age, I wouldn't either."
"I don't have an over-active imagination," Telor insisted firmly. "If you don't believe me, ask Gin."
"I intend to," Garak said. "For the moment, I need to return to command and arrange for unobtrusive surveillance equipment to be found." He stepped up onto the transporter. And was joined a moment later by Amaro.
"This is going to be a waste of time. Mark my words," the Gul said.
When the two men were transported from the room, Telor turned to his father. "Are you angry with me?" he asked.
"Why didn't you tell me about what happened?"
"I... Gin said you'd done everything you could for Legate Damar, and that the last thing he needed was more medical tests, or the council interfering with him. And... I agreed. If I thought there was something else you could have done, I would have told you, I promise."
"Then no, I'm not angry with you." He clapped a hand onto his son's shoulder. "You had a patient's best interests at heart. I can't fault your reasoning. Now, I have patients to see. This new virus is proving quite aggressive."
"Is there anything you need me to do?" he asked eagerly, glad that his father wasn't disappointed with him.
"No, son. Just... try to keep out of trouble. At least until the ambassador gets here tomorrow. After that... we'll see."
His father left him, limping off down towards the quarantine wards, and Telor made his way to Legate Damar's room. His stomach felt suddenly queasy, and he knew why. He'd told his father and the council members that Legate Damar would do something tomorrow, that he'd give some sort of reaction to Gin's reports. But he wasn't at all convinced that anything of the sort would happen. Legate Damar had reacted to rulot seeds, not Federation reports. If nothing happened tomorrow, Amaro and Garak would move the Legate.
When he reached the room, he opened the door and stepped inside, approaching the man on the bed.
"Legate Damar?" he said hesitantly. The man's face did not change. "Legate, Gin's coming back tomorrow, but if you don't do something, the council are going to take you away, and I don't want you to go away. I... Cardassia... needs you. You need to get better. Just tell me what to do, what you need, and I'll do it. Just do something tomorrow. It doesn't matter what. Look up, drink something, say something... anything will do."
He watched the Legate's face for any sign that his words had been heard, but there was nothing. With a sigh, Telor left the room. He couldn't stay here all day or he'd go crazy. Perhaps, he thought, he would go to pick some korat shoots. Maybe that would help take his mind off the enormity of the task that lay before him.
o - o - o - o - o
Gin stared at her communications console, at the latest request from the Federation council. So far, everything they had sent, she had been able to handle, and most of it had been quite easy to deal with; relief updates, ship routes, exchanges of information... nothing out of the ordinary. This, however... this was something new. Something big. And she was just a little afraid that she'd gotten herself up a creek without a paddle. In fact, she was so concerned with reading the report that she didn't even see Garak enter the embassy, and it wasn't until he was standing in the doorway politely clearing his throat that she realised she was no longer alone. She quickly deactivated her comm screen and leant back in her chair.
"Garak? To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked.
"I've just had a rather interesting conversation with Telor Rokann," he said, stepping into her office.
"Oh?" she asked, feigning surprise.
"He claims that Damar had some sort of reaction to your presence several days ago."
"Wishful thinking, I fear," she said, with a small smile.
"Are you saying the boy is lying?"
"No. Just that he misinterpreted what happened. I've given Legate Damar many reports, and he's never reacted to any of them. I suspect he was reacting more to the boy's presence than to mine."
"But Telor has spent a lot of time with Damar... indeed, it's sometimes hard to pry the boy away from him. And this sort of thing has never happened before. What makes you think Damar reacted to the boy, and not you?"
She shrugged. "Just a feeling. But tell me... you knew Damar before Dr Rokann saved his life. What do you think he reacted to?"
"Oh, it's not like we were best friends," Garak said dismissively. "Truth be told, we rarely spoke to each other."
"You spent nearly three months in his resistance cell, and rarely spoke to each other?"
"We didn't really get along," Garak smiled coldly.
Gin sighed. She hated playing games. "I understand that he killed the woman you loved," she said, bringing the elephant into the open. "I'm surprised you didn't kill him for that. What stopped you?"
"I hoped that he might be the man to free Cardassia from Dominion rule, so I put my personal feelings aside."
"And now? If he makes a full recovery?"
"Personally, I think there's already been too much Cardassian blood spilt. If you're asking if I'm going to take revenge... then the answer is no. The man who killed Ziyal died long before Damar was shot by Dominion phasers."
"I'm glad to hear it. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, thank you. I trust you'll be making another report at the hospital tomorrow?" he asked with a too-casual expression.
"As usual, yes."
"Then I'll see you at the council command in the morning."
When Garak left, she mulled over the conversation in her mind. She'd half expected him to be angry that she hadn't told him about Damar's reaction. To accuse her of operating behind the council's back. Behind his back. But he hadn't made any accusations... so what new game was he playing at now?
o - o - o - o - o
Sleep did not come easily for Gin that night. Very soon, things were going to change. She was going to have to be a part of that change, to help Cardassia come to terms with it, but she didn't know how she was going to manage it. The council was still woefully ill-equipped to deal with minor affairs, much less affairs of galactic importance. And now that the council knew that Damar might be getting better, they'd refocus their efforts on hounding him into submission, rather than turning their attention to where it was needed; the problems faced by the Cardassian citizens.
Unable to lie in her too-hot bed any longer, she got up and dressed and then downloaded the daily reports onto her datapad. She requested a Bajoran dish—hasperat soufflé—from the replicator, because she felt like eating something other than Cardassian food for a change. She managed only half of it before her unease began to unsettle her stomach, and she switched to drinking water instead.
When her escort appeared, she allowed him to lead her through the familiar streets to the council building, where both Garak and Amaro were waiting for her. The former was wearing his usual smile, and while the latter looked as ill-tempered as ever.
"Let's get this over with," Amaro grumbled.
"Forgive him, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Garak said.
"You almost sound like you don't want Legate Damar to recover, Gul Amaro," Gin accused.
"Of course I want him to recover. But before you even arrived on Cardassia, we'd already tried everything we could think of, everything Damar has had an appreciation for in the past—regova eggs with yamok sauce, various vintages of kanar, beautiful women—and none of them elicited any response. I believe this is merely some fanciful machination of yours, and that you've roped the boy into it with false hope and empty promises."
"You just can't stand the fact that Damar might find Federation reports more interesting than your bluster," Garak sniped at the man.
"I didn't see him responding to your wheedling, Garak," Amaro growled back.
"Perhaps we should go," she suggested, and set off towards the transporter room. They both caught up with her in a few strides, and they continued in silence. In the transporter room, they all stepped up onto the pad and were sent several miles, to the hospital. When Gin rematerialised, she was surprised to find both Dr Rokann and Telor waiting. She did not have to wait long for an explanation.
"I asked Dr Rokann to bring Telor with him today," Garak explained. "I'd like Telor to be present during your debriefing."
"You want me to report important strategic Federation information in the presence of a civilian?"
"Just this one, if you please. It's not like he's got anybody to tell all the Federation's secrets to. Right, Telor?"
The boy nodded his head earnestly.
"I was not consulted about this," Amaro objected.
"Because it did not concern you," Garak inserted smoothly. He turned back to Gin. "Please, Ambassador, humour me."
"Very well," she sighed. "Come on, Telor."
She gestured for him to follow her, and they left the three men.
"I'm sorry, Gin," Telor hissed quietly as soon as they were further down the corridor. "I didn't want to tell them about what happened, but I had to. They were going to move him to another facility!"
"What?" She stopped walking, and he followed suit. "Why?"
"They thought he wasn't recovering. They wanted to move him somewhere more long-term. Even my father agreed it would be best. I had to do something. I told them that it was you Legate Damar was responding to. Now, Garak's put a surveillance device inside the room. I'm afraid that if the Legate stays unresponsive, they'll take him away. We can't let that happen, Gin!"
"Relax, Telor," she said. The boy's anxiety was palpable; his eyes were wide with fear. "If we can't stop them from taking Legate Damar, I'll do everything within my power to ensure he's given the treatment he requires."
"But Cardassia needs him! And if they take him, I won't see you again!"
"What? Of course you will. You can come and visit me at the embassy whenever you like, and when I get chance, I'll come and visit you and your father here too. Is that why you're so upset about the thought of them taking the Legate away?" He nodded, looking guilty. "Let's concentrate on one problem at a time, Telor," she said. "Now, let's go. If they're monitoring the room, they'll be expecting us there any minute now."
When he looked a little less upset she led him swiftly on, until they reached Damar's room. They let themselves in and Gin immediately looked around for the surveillance device, but couldn't see any sign of one. Whatever Garak had planted was probably small, easily concealed, and difficult to locate. Damar, on his bed, ignored them both, and Telor took a seat at the small table beneath the window while Gin slowly walked up and down the length of the room as she began reeling off her reports.
"First item of discussion is the industrial action taking place in Pallan city. Workers there are protesting against military involvement in the new council, and they refuse to return to work until the military relinquishes all right to rule. Ordinarily I wouldn't report on this, but as you probably know, Pallan city houses Cardassia's main dilithium refining plant, and dilithium shortages will affect not only the Cardassian fleet, but every ship within this sector. We'd like to see the situation resolved as soon as possible."
She glanced up and saw Telor watching the Legate like a hawk. There had been no change, so she continued. "Second, there's small amounts of unrest in Tomakan city since the Federation relief workers left. Nothing to be concerned about yet, but I believe the situation warrants close attention. And speaking of unrest, one of the villages on the outskirts of Lakarian city claims that it doesn't need the Federation's help in providing aid for its people. When relief workers approached, to try to talk to the villagers, they were shot at. Luckily nobody was killed, but the Federation wants a full report on what happened there. I've passed it on to the council for investigation for now... I felt that it was a matter best looked into by Cardassian security forces."
From the corner of her eye she saw Telor sit up taller; had he been a dog, his ears would have pricked. Glancing to the other side of the room, she noticed a slight change in Legate Damar's posture, and slowly walked the length of the room again, briefly examining his face as she turned. Was it her imagination, or were his eyes a little more... focused?
"Continuing," she said, "the shipyard in orbit of Cardassia Three seems to be doing well. So far, eight freighters have docked there for repairs, and two Federation starships. The freighters have been charged for parts and labour, which is bringing a small trickle of latinum into the economy, but unless the shipyards can be expanded, it won't be nearly enough to offset the costs of rebuilding on Cardassia Prime, much less the outlying colonies which have taken losses of their own.
"I'm pleased to report that, as of today, a total of twenty six food replicators have been supplied by the Federation, and twenty-four of them installed. We're expecting another four in the next relief shipment, and I'm happy to leave their distribution to the decision of the council. In addition to the replicators, we've also sent three convoys of medical supplies, clothing, and rations, along with water filtration and desalination units. I've also been advised that the Ferengi have offered to send a relief package free of cost. I believe they hope to earn the goodwill of the Cardassian Union. Which leads me to my last order of business, which I think you will like even less than I do.
"In six weeks' time there is to be a summit of Alpha and Beta Quadrant powers, in which several important topics will be discussed. The Federation Council has asked that the Cardassian Union be involved in the talks. In addition, there will be representatives from the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Star Empire, and the Ferengi Alliance. Federation officials will include a delegation from Betazed, Benzar and Coridan as well as Earth and Vulcan. There will also be representatives present from several other non-member worlds which were occupied by joint Dominion and Cardassian forces... there will be talk of reparations, I believe. Amongst other things, of course."
"You're worried about this summit, aren't you?" Telor asked, his attention now focused on her once more.
She nodded. "This coalition council can't even decide on what to call itself. How is it going to present a united front at a summit of quadrant powers? How can they speak for the people of Cardassia, when they don't have the support of the people of Cardassia? We are at a major disadvantage right now, but to not go could be even more disastrous."
"What can we do?" Telor asked.
"The only thing I can think to do is send a delegation of a single group—either civilian or military—led by one person, who will do all the talking for them. Of course, trying to get the council to agree to my idea will be a task in itself." She pulled the name of a random military council member from the top of her head. "I plan to recommend Gul Toparal as the representative during negotiations."
"Gul Toparal couldn't negotiate his way out of a bar full of Nausicaans."
Telor's eyes went wide at the sound of the Legate's voice, and he almost fell out of his seat in surprise. Gin caught his excitement, but managed to keep outwardly calm.
"Do you have a better suggestion?" she asked, watching Damar closely. His blue eyes roved over the wall at the end of the room, but he offered no further words. "Then I suppose six weeks will have to be enough time to teach Gul Toparal how to negotiate," she said at last. "Well, that sums up the last three days' worth of reports. I'll see you in another three days for an update on these situations."
She turned off her pad and gestured for the wide-eyed Telor to follow her. Risking a quick glance as the door slid shut, she saw Damar had returned to staring at nothing again. But it didn't matter. It was enough that he'd spoken, and Telor thought so too.
"Did you hear that?" he grinned happily. "He spoke! He really is getting better, isn't he?"
"I think so," she smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Now, let's get back to your father. I've got a feeling that Garak and Amaro are going to have questions."
o - o - o - o - o
Later that evening, Gin paced in her bedroom within the embassy. She'd already dressed for bed and brushed her hair, but sleep, she knew, was far from near. She could still feel the nervous excitement in her body, so she decided to talk about how she felt, to record her words in the hope that some of that excitement would be captured and removed from her, allowing her some much-needed rest. Turning to her computer console, she accessed the personal log menu, and began a new recording.
"Gin Fox, personal log," she said. "Stardate... you know, I have no idea what date it is? That's the downside of being away from the Federation, I suppose. Not everybody uses our dating system. But it doesn't matter. Today, for the first time since arriving on Cardassia, I feel hope. There's something in the air, now. It was there in the hospital, and at the council command centre. For once, for a brief moment, everybody was united in joy. Doctors, military, civilians... and me, the outsider, along with them. Today, on my way back from the hospital, after news that Legate Damar had spoken had been passed around the council, I experienced a déjà vu, a feeling that I'd done this before, been here before, witnessed this happening before. Then a few moments ago, I realised why. There is a poem I read when I was a child, written by a woman called Gillian Clarke, back in the twentieth century. I'm going to recite it now, otherwise I will forget this parallel.
"An afternoon yellow and open-mouthed
with daffodils. The sun treads the path
among cedars and enormous oaks.
It might be a country house, guests strolling,
the rumps of gardeners between nursery shrubs.
I am reading poetry to the insane.
An old woman, interrupting, offers
as many buckets of coals as I need.
A beautiful chestnut-haired boy listens
entirely absorbed. A schizophrenic
on a good day, they tell me later.
In a cage of first March sun a woman
sits not listening, not seeing, not feeling.
In her neat clothes the woman is absent.
A big mild man is tenderly led
to his chair. He has never spoken.
His labourer's hands on his knees, he rocks
gently to the rhythms of the poems.
I read to their presences, absences,
to the big, dumb labouring man as he rocks.
He is suddenly standing, silently,
huge and mild, but I feel afraid. Like slow
movement of spring water or the first bird
of the year in the breaking darkness,
the labourer's voice recites The Daffodils'.
The nurses are frozen, alert; the patients
seem to listen. He is hoarse but word-perfect.
Outside the daffodils are still as wax,
a thousand, ten thousand, their syllables
unspoken, their creams and yellows still.
Forty years ago, in a Valleys school,
the class recited poetry by rote.
Since the dumbness of misery fell
he has remembered there was a music
of speech and that once he had something to say.
When he's done, before the applause, we observe
the flowers' silence. A thrush sings
and the daffodils are aflame."
"This happened today," she continued. "Gillian Clarke might well have been writing about what happened in the hospital, whilst I was reading my report to Legate Damar. And now the daffodils are aflame with hope, dancing excitedly, waiting to see what words might come next. Jocund company indeed. I just hope his recovery continues. We have only six weeks until the summit, and Cardassia has yet to establish a functioning government.
"It's strange, how an otherwise plain, unremarkable man has so captured the minds of his people. I've read the Starfleet Intelligence report on Legate Damar over and over again. His file could be that of almost any Cardassian. As a soldier he's described as competent but unimaginative. He's credited with finding a way to disable the self-replicating mines that Starfleet used to prevent the Dominion reinforcements from coming through the wormhole, but he has only standard engineering experience. The reports paint him as a poor leader, too easily swayed by others, too easily distracted by fripperies, lacking in any real authority. As a freedom fighter, his tactics were crude and devoid of creativity. So why does the whole of Cardassia apparently need him in order to survive? Could it be that in these extra-ordinary times, what we're actually short of is a good, ordinary man?
"I hope that's it. For Cardassia's sake. End log."