Stardate 2260.229
"You sure you're ok?"
Voris glanced down at Aisla's plump face, noting the obvious concern furrowed into her brow. He was starting to feel dizzy from holding his arms over his head for so long, but he was nearly done. "I am sure."
"Dagny would peel my skin if I let you wear yourself out."
"I am certain she would do no such thing," Voris replied. "Cruelty is not in her nature."
Aisla laughed. "I didn't mean literally. It's just an expression. It means she would be very angry."
"On that, we concur."
Voris let his arms fall to his side, stepped down from the stool, and craned his neck upward to examine his work. The new biofilter appeared to be straight: now all that remained was to sanitize the convalescent ward. Earlier that morning, the Federation had beamed down the food and medical supplies they'd promised, and the drop had included four next generation biofilters.
It had taken most of the day to install them, but the powerful biofilters now graced the doorways of the clinic entry, the surgical suite, and the convalescent ward. He'd put two at the entry, one on the exterior and one on the interior, and preliminary scans of the room indicated the microbial levels had become undetectable. Dagny was now free to move about the clinic area without a mask on. It pleased him to know that she would be pleased.
"So, should I sterilize the ward while you calibrate?" Aisla asked, nodding toward the bucket with the sanitizing packets.
"Yes, thank you."
"After this, can I go home? Morna needs me to watch Lula while she goes to work."
"I have nothing else for you this evening," Voris replied, returning to his perch on the stool.
Aisla was now officially his subordinate, as was Hadrian Moore. Following the outbreak, Samantha Bergeron had seen the need to create an auxiliary force of medical personnel to rely on in the event of an emergency, and so Hadrian now worked part-time in the mornings and Aisla covered a part-time shift in the evenings. The quarantine had put Aisla's goal of nursing school on hold, but spending an additional year gaining hands on experience in the clinic would be beneficial to her long-term plans.
Sam wanted him to find four more people to begin training in the next year with the hope of sending them to paramedic school on a rotating basis once the quarantine was lifted. While Voris was happy to comply with her request, he got the impression Sam believed he and Dagny had become permanent fixtures on the colony.
He was required to stay for the period of quarantine, but Voris had spent a lot of time in recent weeks thinking about his future, as well as the futures of Dagny and their unborn child. It had been easy to make decisions when he had only himself to consider, but his brush with death and the current tensions with the Klingons and Gorn were making him reevaluate his situation.
Were it only a matter of thinking of himself, he would gladly remain on Bergeron colony for the rest of his life, or the rest of the colony's life, whichever came first. The hours were long and the clinic was understaffed and undersupplied, but he appreciated the atmosphere of cooperation among so many cultures. Bergeron colony was far from perfect, but life on Vulcan, Earth, and New Vulcan had shown him there was no perfect society, no matter how often the Federation referred to Earth as a utopia.
But Dagny was due to give birth in less than four months and the reality of fatherhood was weighing on him in a way that it never had before. Many people raised families on Bergeron colony, but he was not certain he wanted his child growing up in a place of such uncertainty and instability. Though the safety of his child and Dagny were paramount, there were other significant considerations as well. Dagny still wanted to attend medical school and he had promised her he would do everything he could to assist her in realizing her ambitions.
He had all but decided on the logic of leaving Bergeron colony, but actually leaving would not be so simple. When the quarantine was lifted a year from now, he would still be the only physician for a colony of more than 1,100 people. By then, Aisla and Hadrian would be better trained and ideally, there would be four other apprentices with a year of training, but that was inadequate. The only way he could leave in good conscience was to find a replacement for himself and recruiting a qualified physician to a place as remote as Bergeron colony would be difficult.
Voris resolved to speak with Dagny about relocating later that evening. He sensed she might have reservations about leaving—the Svendsens were here and she'd forged many other friendships—but he had an entire year to convince her, which was fortunate, because Dagny had a tendency to be intractable on many matters.
He had spent a week upstairs in their quarters recuperating following his release from the clinic and since then, she'd made his return to work a constant battle. He had begun working half-days to ease the burden of the morning rush of patients and she'd never stopped insisting that he was "overdoing it." Today had been his first full day back and though he was exhausted, he felt perfectly capable of performing his duties. Half an hour ago, she'd agreed to go upstairs and prepare end meal and let him finish installing the biofilters, but he suspected she'd conceded because the presence of so many biofilters meant she would no longer have to wear a mask.
Why did she worry? Shouldn't he be allowed to be the judge of what he could and could not manage? He returned to the business of calibrating the biofilter, thinking that he really was rather tired and would probably retire to bed following end meal.
"How's it coming?" Aisla asked, looking over her shoulder from the other side of the room where she was installing a fourth sanitizing system.
Voris glanced at the air quality index monitor on the biofilter, noting it was still flashing green, indicating the concentration of biological indicators was extremely low, but still detectable. It had taken twenty minutes for the biofilter on the surgical suite to read clear, so he suspected the convalescent ward would take a similar period of time.
Voris stepped down from the stool, reasoning he could watch the monitor from his seat at the desk. He was about to tell Aisla she should go home for the night when the after-hours buzzer rang.
"I'll get it!" Aisla said cheerfully. "You keep doing what you're doing."
He watched her trot toward the door and open it, revealing a woman holding the hands of two very small children. She was human, the two children were Romulan, or possibly Vulcan. He knew her, but not in the way he'd come to know most of the colonists.
She was thinner than she'd been when he'd first met her four months ago aboard the Oglethorpe, but her black hair was still large and untamed. She was Sunayana, Rhaal's mate, and he judged by the two children clutching her hands that she had been successful in retrieving his children from the Romulan Star Empire.
"Suna?" Aisla gasped. "What's wrong?"
"I-I dun't fel whe-whull."
Sunayana's speech was slurred and it was clear by the look in her eyes that she knew it and was afraid. Her face was pale and clammy and she was breathing hard. Voris grabbed his tricorder and motioned for Suna to step forward, but the children's eyes widened and they squirmed violently, trying to get away.
"Perhaps you could tend to the children while I see to her," Voris suggested.
The children, a girl of about four years of age and boy no more than three, both resisted being pulled from her. The moment Sunayana's hands were free of their grip, her arms began to shake violently and when she stepped forward, it was clear she could barely keep her balance.
"Pulze halp muh." There were tears in her eyes. Voris helped her onto a biobed and quickly initiated a neurological scan.
"How long have you had these tremors and speech impairment?"
She shook her head, though Voris wasn't certain it was intentional. "I bun seck fer while. Shakin' sturt thess mornin'."
"You have been sick for a while?" he asked, seeking clarification.
"Yus."
"Can you specify what you mean by 'a while?'"
"I dunno. I half nut bun raight sunse Rom-romuhlus."
"You mean you have experienced these symptoms since you left Romulus?"
She nodded awkwardly, silent tears spilling down her cheeks. After a strained twenty-minute interview, Voris eventually learned that Sunayana's symptoms had been worsening for more than two months. It had started as a headache and slowly progressed to muscle weakness by the time she'd rendezvoused with the Oglethorpe on Nausicaa, but she'd thought little of it until two weeks ago, when she'd started to suspect she was losing her mind. She reported confusion and occasional memory loss and had wanted to come to the clinic, but had been afraid to expose the children to Orion lungworm because she wasn't sure if they were vaccinated. The tremors had started that morning and it had taken her all day to collect herself and make it to the clinic.
Voris also learned that she'd been injured by a projectile weapon in her attempt to get the children out of a state criminal processing facility. There were dark splotches on her left arm, which she explained were remnants of shrapnel that she'd been unable to pull out. Her arm was shaking so badly that he had to hold down it down to extract a piece for examination with a laser scalpel.
"Is she going to be ok?" Aisla asked, bouncing the little boy on her hip.
Voris set the tiny metal shard in the chemical analyzer and replied, "I do not know."
"Did she have a stroke or something?"
"Cerebrovascular incidents rarely affect both sides of the body. Her symptoms are more indicative of neurological degeneration."
Sunayana tried to grip Voris' arm and mumbled, "Um ah gon d-duh-aye?"
"What's going on?" He turned to see Dagny standing at the base of the stairs, eyeing Sunayana, Aisla, and the children.
Voris peered down at the chemical analyzer screen, noting it was still processing the sample and replied, "We have a thirty-two-year-old human female whose symptoms over the past two months have progressed from headache, muscle weakness, and fatigue to confusion, memory loss, tremors, difficulty controlling gross motor movement, and slurred speech. What do you suspect?"
"Neurological damage," Dagny replied, joining him by the side of the biobed.
"But more specifically?"
Dagny gave him a worried look, clutched Sunayana's left hand, and replied, "Either neurodegenerative disease or neurotoxicity."
"Um ah gonna dah?" Sunayana asked, looking at Dagny.
Dagny clasped her other hand around the terrified woman's hand and replied, "You're here with us now. Dr. Voris will get to the bottom of it."
She shot him a helpless look and he was surprised to see Dagny was also crying and trying to hide that fact by wiping her face on her sleeve. She had been so emotional when they'd first met, but he understood they'd met under very unusual circumstances. As he'd grown to know her, he'd learned she expressed a lot of intense empathy for patients, but she almost never cried over them.
The chemical analyzer beeped, revealing the shrapnel he'd extracted from Sunayana's arm was a common iron alloy, but also contained traces of a compound he didn't recognize.
"So… what is it?" Dagny asked nervously.
Voris entered the molecule into the computer's database, and though he found no precise matches, he did find two close analogs, both which were powerful synthetic neurotoxins.
"I believe she's been poisoned."
Dagny grabbed the two puffy blankets from the chest under her bed, set the casserole dish on top, and waddled downstairs. She wanted to hurry—Aisla needed to leave and the children needed someone to watch over them. They must be frightened half to death.
They'd transferred Sunayana, or Suna, as Aisla said she preferred to be called, to the convalescent ward while Voris worked to find an antagonist to whatever compound was poisoning her, but he wasn't very optimistic about being able to find one before it killed her. Dagny couldn't explain why, but the thought of this total stranger dying, leaving two children without a caretaker, made her want to curl into a ball and sob for days. She'd been particularly emotional lately but she figured now wasn't the time to get hung up on that if she could help it.
She heard two masculine voices coming from downstairs and when she arrived in the clinic, she found Voris hunched over the lab bench, feverishly performing some kind of calculation and Rhaev, the Romulan man who had stayed in the clinic with his wife and sick sons several weeks earlier, standing directly behind him.
"I am not aware of the precise composition of the antidote, but I do know one exists, as does a vaccine," Rhaev said.
"And you have been vaccinated?" Voris asked, suddenly sitting up.
"I presume so," Rhaev replied, cocking his head thoughtfully. "I received many vaccinations prior to beginning work with the Rateg Police Force."
"Would you permit me to draw a sample of your blood?" Voris asked. "It may be possible for me to extract the antibodies and clone them."
"If you believe it will be helpful."
Dagny didn't want to interrupt so she soundlessly glided toward the entrance to the convalescent ward, where she found Suna sitting up in bed and the two Romulan children sitting on the adjacent bed with Aisla watching her. Aisla was petting the little boy's hair and whispering softly to him.
"I'm here to take over if you'd like to get going," Dagny announced.
"Alright then, lovey," Aisla sighed. "I don't like the idea of leaving these babies here in a scary hospital ward. You're sure you won't let me take them home with me for tonight?"
"Dey steh wid muh," Suna mumbled, spittle flying from her mouth as she tried to form the words.
"Of course they're going to stay with you," Dagny replied, nodding toward the blankets and food in her hands. "I was going to set them up some beds so they can sleep in here with you without it feeling too much like a sterile clinic."
"You take care of yourself," Aisla said, giving Suna's arm a comforting squeeze. "If anyone can get to the bottom of this, Dr. Voris can. I can bring some pajamas by for the little ones if you like."
Suna nodded, looking toward the opposite wall. Dagny suspected she was trying to hide her tears. Aisla left and Dagny turned toward the children, stooping down and putting her hands on her knees. "Can you tell me your names?"
The little boy stared at her, then looked to his older sister for direction. Suna tried to say something, but it came out as slurred gibberish. The girl looked from Suna to Dagny and back again. She didn't seem shy, which gave Dagny the impression that she didn't understand.
"They don't speak Standard, do they?" Dagny asked, looking at Suna, who shook her head. "Well, that's ok," she replied, giving the girl a reassuring smile. "My PADD has a translation app. I'll be right back."
Dagny wasn't exactly sure who she was talking to because Suna could understand but barely speak and the children could speak but not understand. As she moved toward the door, hunger rumbled in her stomach and moments later, she felt a burst of unexplainable rage that stopped her in her tracks. She knew that sometimes she could feel Voris' emotions if they were particularly strong, but when she entered the clinic, she thought he seemed calm enough. He was taking a vial of blood from Rhaev's heavily tattooed forearm and listening to Rhaev explain the operating procedures of the Romulan police.
"A lot of poisons are slow acting—it makes them hard to trace back to a source. It wasn't uncommon to see people fall down dead in the street of poisoning, especially during an election year. It happens. People die."
"But my patient wasn't a Romulan politico."
"No, but you understand the point. All military and police projectile rounds had some kind of poison in them, that way even if the person survived, they would just die later, usually a painful, horrible death. It kept people from trying to escape from prisons and interrogation facilities. The rounds were designed to fragment and once the poison enters the bloodstream, it doesn't matter if the shrapnel is removed."
"Is there anyone else on the colony with expertise on Romulan poisons?"
"None that I know of. I would hardly call myself an expert."
Rhaev's eyes drifted in Dagny's direction, narrowing when they made contact with her. She'd never gotten the sense that Rhaev liked her much, though she wasn't sure if it was because of their heated exchanges a few weeks ago during the outbreak or simply because she wasn't Romulan. The man had a definite racist streak. He was being polite enough with Voris, but Voris had the advantage of at least looking like him, not to mention he'd also asked him to come to the clinic to assist with a problem, which no doubt made him feel important.
"Hello, Rhaev," Dagny murmured, offering a weak wave. He delivered a slight nod but said nothing.
"How are Rh'ael and Rh'aen?"
"They are thriving."
"That's good to hear." She glanced over at Voris and asked, "Any progress?"
"I am attempting to extract antibodies to the toxin from Rhaev's blood. It may not correct the damage that's already been done, but should halt its progress. Has her condition changed?"
"Suna's scared, but she's-"
"Did you say Suna?" Rhaev interrupted. As in Sunayana Dalal?"
"Um, well, yes."
Rage engulfed Rhaev's face. He leapt out of the chair and stalked several steps in Dagny's direction. "That whore and my brother cost me everything!"
Dagny instinctively put her hands out and stumbled backward and in the same motion, almost as if they were participating in a choreographed dance, Voris positioned himself between her and Rhaev.
"You will not speak that way in my clinic," Voris said, his voice shockingly placid.
"You deceived me! I did not know I was here to help her." Rhaev pointed toward the convalescent ward, but his hand faltered. Dagny turned and saw the little girl standing in the doorway, eyes wide and staring at the hulking, yelling Romulan man. The girl began to shake and Dagny's fear melted into rage.
"I think you need to leave," Dagny growled.
"Maera?" Rhaev said, ignoring Dagny in favor of the little girl. "Maera, it's Uncle Rhaev."
The girl squeaked and cowered in the doorway. She tried to turn and run away, but she slammed into her brother, who appeared immediately behind her.
"Malen?" Rhaev pleaded. "Malen, I am Uncle Rhaev. Your father, Rhaal, was my brother."
"You're frightening them," Dagny snapped, inching to her left to block Rhaev from accessing them.
"They are my niece and nephew!" Rhaev roared, turning to Dagny. "They have no reason to fear me!"
"Then stop yelling!" Dagny retorted.
Rhaev brushed past her to storm into the convalescent ward, slamming into her left shoulder and knocking her off-balance. Voris caught her before she could fall, steadied her, and then followed Rhaev.
"They aren't yours!" Rhaev kept shouting. "You have no right to them!"
Suna's reply was unintelligible but clearly very passionate. It was difficult to tell what happened next amid the yelling and screaming. Rhaev was shouting at Suna, Suna was attempting to defend herself but could barely talk, the children had crawled into Suna's bed and were clinging to her, and Voris and Dagny were trying in vain to calm the situation.
Rhaev ripped the universal translator device from his collar, lowered his voice, and started addressing the children in Romulan, but they were too frightened to acknowledge him. He moved toward Suna's bed and tried to pick up the little boy and Suna feebly tried to fight him off.
Dagny tried to put herself between Rhaev and the children. "Leave or I'm calling the constable."
Rhaev responded sharply in Romulan, turning to face her. He straightened his back, a motion clearly designed to increase his height and intimidate her, and she was ashamed to admit it worked, though she prayed it didn't show. Over Rhaev's shoulder, she could see Voris inching closer from behind.
"Get. Out." She demanded, pointing toward the door.
"No." Rhaev replied in Standard, adding in a breathy, difficult-to-comprehend accent, "This business not yours."
Evidently, he spoke enough Standard to speak and be understood. "This is my business if you're frightening children and patients in my ward."
Time stood still as he and Dagny remained locked in an emotionally-charged standoff. A small voice inside of her told her this was insane, challenging a man who was more than a head taller than her. Just as Rhaev started to lean toward Dagny, Voris' hand shot out from behind him, clutching Rhaev at the joint between his neck and shoulder, an action which sent Rhaev crumpling to the ground in a pile.
She vaguely remembered him doing a similar thing to Melana's husband. She blinked several times, trying to process the series of events that had just unfolded. "How do you do that?"
"The precise mechanism is not important at this moment," Voris replied, stooping down to check on Rhaev.
"Ged em aht," Suna murmured. She was shaking, but Dagny couldn't tell whether it was from fear or the neurotoxin coursing through her blood.
"What's going on?" asked a high-pitched voice from the other end of the room. Dagny glanced up to see Aisla, clutching her niece Lula in one arm and holding a bag in the other.
"We had a bit of a misunderstanding," Dagny tried to explain. "What are you doing here?"
"I said I'd bring some overnight things for the children, remember?" Her eyes scanned all the occupants in the room, including Rhaev's unconscious body.
"Oh, right." Dagny sighed and brushed her hair out of her face. "I don't suppose you speak Romulan?"
"Not a word," Aisla replied, biting her lip. She nodded to Rhaev and added, "Is he ok?"
"Yes," Voris replied.
"Ok, good. So, how can I help?" Aisla asked.
Voris dragged Rhaev back to the clinic while Aisla contacted the constable. With some encouragement from Suna, the children agreed to let Dagny get them ready for bed. The pajamas Aisla had brought were far too big, but Dagny managed to roll the cuffs of the sleeves and pants enough that they didn't drag the ground.
They were adorable little things, even if they were skittish. The little girl was called Maera. She was four years old, and her little brother, Malen, had just turned three. She showed them how to wash their hands in the sink by the door and got them two glasses of water. The dish Dagny had made for dinner was cold by now, but she hoped they wouldn't mind.
She had just set them on the floor with two plastic mixing bowls full of the vegetable casserole and was preparing to help Suna eat when Aisla and Voris appeared in the doorway.
"Constable Kilpatrick has taken Rhaev to the colony jail for the night," Voris announced, glancing between Suna and Dagny.
"Fank ooh," Suna mumbled.
"So, what happens now?" Dagny asked, stroking Malen's hair. "Oh, no sweetie, use the spoon."
The children were stuffing the casserole into their mouths with their bare hands. She dipped the spoon into the food and lifted it to Malen's mouth. The boy seemed annoyed by what Dagny was suggesting and shoved it away from her with his slimy hands.
"The constable will keep him for the night for disturbing the peace, but the issue of custody of the children has yet to be resolved."
"We can't seriously let him take them?" Dagny gasped.
"It is not a matter of letting," Voris replied, looking over to Suna. "I have no experience in the law, but it seems reasonable that Rhaev would have a valid claim to them. He is their biological uncle."
"He nebber- he dint-" Suna stuttered. "He leff dem der. I gaught dem."
Aisla made her way to Suna's bedside, sat on the edge, and patted her shoulder.
"He's really their uncle?" Dagny asked, rising to her feet and sidestepping the children on the ground to join Voris in the doorway.
"I have not compared their genetic material, but he claims to be Rhaal's brother, and Rhaal was their father."
"Yus," Suna mumbled. "Es truh."
"Who is Rhaal?" Dagny asked.
"He died of burns and radiation sickness aboard the Oglethorpe in New Vulcan's orbit. I treated him just before he died. Sunayana was his mate. They were travelling to the Romulan Star Empire to rescue Rhaal's children and Sunayana stayed behind on Nausicaa to travel there on her own after his death. Apparently, she did manage to retrieve them from criminal processing facility, and she arrived here with the Oglethorpe several weeks ago."
"Wait, what do you mean a criminal processing facility? Why would they be there? They're babies."
"The Romulan Star Empire operates on distrust, not justice."
"But doesn't that mean Suna is their stepmother? Doesn't she have rights?"
Suna shook her head and looked away. Voris glanced at her, then back to Dagny. "Not legally, no. They were not married."
"But they're so young," Aisla argued, trying to soothe Lula, who was becoming fussy. "Rhaev has been here for at least two years. Has he ever even met his niece and nephew?"
"Yeah, they seemed scared of him," Dagny added.
"I imagine there are many questions that will be asked and answered in the days to come. It would be illogical to dwell on it tonight."
His eyes wandered down to the children, who had made a horrible mess of the vegetable casserole. Dagny had wondered why they didn't know how to use a spoon, but the knowledge that they'd spent time in prison at the tender ages of three and four shed a whole new light on their untamed behavior.
"I need to process the blood sample that Rhaev gave me," Voris said, taking a step back.
"Will that make her better?" Aisla asked.
"If I am successful in isolating and cloning the antibodies, it should prevent her from getting worse while I develop a course of treatment."
Suna took a deep breath and nodded. "Fank ooh."
"How can we help?" Dagny asked.
"If Aisla will agree to stay with Sunayana and the children, I could use your assistance in processing samples."
Dagny followed him back into the clinic. She sat on a stool and listened as he explained what he was doing and showed her how to isolate antibodies in serum. He was clearly very tired, but watching him work filled her with a strange sense of affection. When he allowed her to look through the microscope at the assays, their shoulders gently brushed and the baby started kicking up a storm.
Two hours later, they'd identified the correct antibodies and produced enough clones to provide Suna with a workable treatment. When Dagny entered the ward, she found Suna fast asleep with the children curled up on either side of her.
"I need to be getting home," Aisla whispered, motioning to Lula. "My sister will be off work soon."
"I believe we can manage. Thank you for your assistance."
She stood, hauled the little Orion baby in her arms up onto her chest, and snuck out, leaving Dagny and Voris alone with Suna and the children.
"We should wake her, shouldn't we?" Dagny murmured.
"Yes."
"Any idea how we can do that without waking up the kids?"
Voris glided toward Suna's bed, slid his hands under Malen, lifted him gently, and placed him on the bed to the left. The boy didn't even stir. He repeated the process with Maera, and though she let out a loud snore when Voris rolled her onto her back, she also remained fast asleep. The same wave of affection rolled over her again. She rested her hand on her belly and smiled, and when Voris turned back to her, he seemed confused.
"You may wake Sunayana now and administer the vaccine. Monitor her closely. I am going to pursue formulating a course of treatment to reverse the damage."
"Thank you, Voris."
"Why do you thank me?"
"I don't know. It just feels right. Thank you for being so wonderful."
His brow wrinkled and he frowned slightly, but he nodded. He headed for the door and just before he disappeared behind it, she called, "Please try to get some rest, if you can."
"Your worry is illogical," he replied.
She smiled. He was probably right, but she was never going to not worry about him.
Dagny woke Suna, gave her the vaccine, and watched her closely for the next several hours until she could no longer hold her eyes open. When she awoke some time later, Suna was snoring soundly, but the children were missing.
A crash at the other end of the room roused Voris from a very sound sleep. He blinked several times, trying to get his bearings. He'd fallen asleep at the lab bench, trying to develop an antidote to the neurotoxin that was currently poisoning Sunayana Dalal.
He scanned the clinic, trying to zero in on direction of the noise and spied a tiny head of black hair quivering behind one of the biobeds. He stood and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the inevitable kinks that came from sleeping upright on a stool. He heard a hushed gasp and found the two Romulan children cowering behind the biobed, the girl standing slightly in front of her brother in a defensive stance.
Given they had been held in a Romulan prison camp for much of their very young lives, it was not surprising that they would be afraid of someone who appeared to be Romulan. They had certainly seemed afraid of their uncle the night before.
The Romulan and Vulcan languages were somewhat similar, but had diverged enough that they were quite distinct. He knelt down and thought to himself over what an appropriate Romulan greeting to a small child might be, and said, "y'hhau."
The girl's face relaxed a little, but she didn't budge. He didn't know how to say anything more complex in Romulan, but he hoped that between their Romulan, his Vuhlkansu, and some hand signals, they might be able to forge an understanding.
"Tra wi k'avon?" he asked, gesturing toward his mouth. For good measure, he asked in Standard, just in case they'd learned some from Sunayana. "Are you hungry?"
"Eat?" the girl asked excitedly, imitating his motion. "Eat food?"
"Yes. Do you want to eat food?"
The girl turned and mumbled something in Romulan to her brother, and moments later, he had their undivided attention. "Yes," Maera answered. "Eat food."
They appeared to be very small and underweight for their age. Voris thought he should examine them, given all that they had been through, but reasoned it would be prudent to wait and discuss it with Sunayana.
Voris stood up and the children shuffled toward him. A thick odor struck Voris' nose and it quickly became apparent Malen had urinated on himself during the night. He thought of waking Dagny and asking for her assistance—he knew so little about child care—but surely feeding and dressing two small children didn't require any special skills.
Malen grabbed Voris' left hand and peered up at him. The physical contact surprised Voris, but he theorized Malen was used to being led places in this manner. It was very common for human parents to shepherd their children this way, so perhaps they had learned the behavior from Sunayana.
He walked them toward the stairs to his quarters, glancing at the laboratory bench as he passed it.
He'd made significant progress in synthesizing an antagonist for the neurotoxin, but devising a course of treatment to correct the neurological damage would take time. For now, she was stable, and that was already significant progress.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Maera and Malen freely wandered about his quarters, driven by curiosity and oblivious to social etiquette. He sat them down at the table, but they were too short to see over the edge. He found a piece of gespar in the preserver, peeled and sliced it, and placed it on the table. Without even being invited to do so, both children stood on the chairs and devoured it readily with their bare hands in less than a minute.
"K'hei?" Malen asked.
Voris cocked his head. "Weh?" he asked, uttering the Vulcan word for "more."
"Eat food," Maera added, pointing to the empty bowl and back to her mouth. "K'hei food?"
Voris went back to the preserver, took a knee, and rifled through the bottom drawer. That had been the last of the gespar, but there were two apples and an orange remaining. He was considering what else he could prepare besides fruit when he noticed both children were now standing behind him, watching his actions intently.
"Lhiet," Maera asked, pointing to the apples. "Want."
"It is an apple." He held it up to show her. "An apple."
"Anapple?" she repeated, looking from the fruit to Voris expectantly.
"Apple."
She pointed to it and said, "Apple. Want."
Voris handed her one of the shiny red fruits, intending for her to hold it while he rose to his feet, but she didn't hesitate. She sunk her teeth into it and giggled as the juice rolled down her face. She took another large bite and handed it to her brother, who feasted on it until she took it back from him. They took turns stripping the apple of its flesh until they ate it down to the core, which they also ate. Malen held the stem between his tiny thumb and forefinger, then popped it into his mouth.
"K'hei?" both children asked in unison.
"You want more? K'hei? More?"
"Yes," they answered. "K'hei. More."
"Sit," Voris said, pointing toward the table. He added the Vuhlkansu word for sit, which was "san," and the children seemed to understand. They hustled back to the table and sat down on the chairs, leaning their faces against the bars that made up the chair backs to watch him.
He located the flour, salt, and oil and made a batch of Dagny's griddle cakes, which the children devoured faster than he could make. Their appetites knew no limits. He fed them the rest of the fruit in the preserver and the remnants of the ravioli Dagny had made two nights ago and though he tried to demonstrate the use of a fork, neither of them seemed interested in utensils.
Eventually their obsession with food seemed to fade and Voris turned his attention to cleaning them up, since Malen stank of urine and both of them were covered in ravioli sauce and fruit juice. He took both of them to the bathroom and washed their faces, which they tolerated. Malen even readily submitted himself to being undressed and placed in the shower, but the moment water started to pour from overhead, he started to scream hysterically and Maera began pathetically punching Voris' leg with her tiny fists.
He quickly shut the water off and tried to apologize, but Malen tucked himself into Voris' chest and continued to shake violently. It was difficult to determine if he was afraid of the shower or just water in general. Voris wrapped him in a towel, carried him out of the cramped bathroom, and set him in the sink just outside the bathroom door.
He slowly turned on the water so that it was barely a trickle, and though Malen seemed wary and skeptical of the water flowing over his pudgy knees, he allowed Voris to bathe him. He was attempting to wash some of the red ravioli sauce from Malen's soft black hair when he felt a series of pokes on his thigh. He glanced down to see Maera prodding him with the index finger of her right hand and pointing to the door with the index finger of her left.
He followed the line of her little hand and saw Dagny standing in the doorway, hands perched on her swollen stomach and watching him with a warm smile. "Good morning."
"Good morning," he replied.
"Do you need any help?"
"I believe I have the situation under control."
Just as he said that, Malen slammed his hands down onto the surface of the water pooling in the sink and laughed hysterically. The bathwater splashed into Voris' face, which caused Maera to fall into a fit of giggles. When he looked back at Dagny, he noticed she had a hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a laugh.
"Is this amusing?" he asked, trying to wipe the water from his eyes.
"I don't know if amusing is the right word," she replied. "But it's definitely adorable."