Nightshade - Laurell K. Hamilton [14]
Troi stroked a tiny fist. It reacted, grabbing her finger, squeezing. “What will happen to him?”
‘He will go in one of the vats,” the doctor said, “and we will reconstruct eyes and a face. We will build him into a whole person.”
‘Do you have to do this with many of your children?” Picard asked.
‘Reconstruct them, you mean?”
‘Yes.”
‘Most of our children in the last ten years have been beyond saving. The deformities were too serious. Few women even carry a baby to term. Their bodies are too full of poisons to support life.”
‘But we saw Colonel Talanne’s son, Jeric,” Troi said.
‘Yes, Jeric.” The doctor shook her head. “I do not explain miracles. I am merely thankful for them. This,” she held the tiny baby closer, “is what we usually find if we are lucky.”
‘The guards called this the place of lifeless children,” Troi said, “but they aren’t dead.”
‘We can keep them alive, but we cannot bring them to life,” Doctor Zhir said.
Troi frowned. “I don’t understand.”
‘We have the technology to keep them from dying, but we cannot cure what is wrong. We cannot help them become real children. Children that can walk and run, laugh and think. They are alive but they are not. Do you understand?”
Troi stared round the room, at the hundreds of boxes. “You can’t cure them?” she made it a question.
‘No, we cannot cure them, but we can repair some of what is wrong,” the doctor said.
Picard stared at the boxes and at the kneeling guards. The enormity of the room, the slurping of liquid going through tubes, the faint hum of electricity, all washed over him in a cool horror. Troi could feel his instant sympathy with this beleaguered doctor, his instant repulsion at the contents of the room. “As soon as possible I would ask your permission to have my ship’s doctor beam down and look at your children. There may be medical techniques that could aid you.”
‘If you could truly aid us here, then it would be a powerful thing to bring to the peace table.”
Picard nodded. “I understand.”
‘I am a doctor in a world of perpetual war and disease and deformity. There are not many doctors left, most of us became other things.” She rocked the crying baby until it stopped. “The pain, you understand.”
‘It was your pain I felt, part of it, anyway,” Troi said.
‘You felt my pain?” Zhir said. “And it woke you, brought you here?”
‘Yours, and the woman who gave birth tonight,” Troi said.
Zhir smiled, ever so slightly. “You have given me hope, and I curse you for it. I thought I had given up such useless thoughts, but there it is, hope, the last refuge of madmen and dreamers.”
‘Would you like me to see the mother tonight?” Troi asked.
‘She is sleeping. Better that she sleeps as long as she can. It will be a long time before her son comes out of this room. Breck there,” she indicated one of the kneeling guards, “was one of mine, not so different from this one. Though he did heal better than most. Almost all of the people below twenty spent some time in this room.” She shook her head. “Go, go, I must put this little one to bed.”
‘I have your permission to send my ship’s doctor as soon as she becomes available?” Picard asked.
Doctor Zhir nodded. “There is always room for another doctor on Oriana, Federation Ambassador. Now please go.” She spoke directly to the two kneeling guards. “Rise, the sin is covered.”
The guards uncovered their faces then looked up, blinking into the light.
‘Escort the ambassador and his people out of here.”
‘Yes, Dr. Zhir. We meant no intrusion,” the first guard said.
‘Hope is never an intrusion but often a lie.” She smiled again to herself and spoke softly to the carefully wrapped baby. Troi could not hear what she said.
The guards stood and began herding Picard and the others toward the far door. “You heard the doctor, we must go now.” There was fear in his voice, as well as respect.
Doctor Zhir pressed a panel on the wall and a silver drawer popped open. Zhir was speaking softly to the baby.
The guards almost physically pushed them toward the door. Only Worf’s warning glare kept them from it.