Mora sighed, exhausted. Did Odo understand what was going on here? Or was he merely mimicking the sound of Mora’s voice? Could it be that he was not sentient after all—at least, no more than a tyrfox or a batos? He regarded the readouts on the electrostatic field that surrounded Odo’s “head,” and increased the frequency.

He continued to work with him for another seemingly endless round of call-and-response, with Odo’s pronunciation gradually becoming more precise, and then less so, and then more so again. Mora believed that Odo was eager to please him, but then it may have only been an illusion brought on by Mora’s own isolation. He occasionally feared he was spending too much time with the creature; he hadn’t seen his parents in weeks, usually coming home to his family’s residence long after they had retired for the night. And Prophets forbid he should ever meet an eligible woman! The idea of it seemed about as likely as the possibility that the Cardassians would turn tail and leave Bajor tomorrow. For better or worse, Mora was married to his work here, and he probably always would be.

“Mynameissssmore…uh,” said Odo.

“Very good, Odo!” Mora positively beamed, for this was probably the best pronunciation Odo had managed so far.

Odo’s “eyes” occasionally rolled around, drifting lazily like those of a person touched in the head. It was an unsettling effect, though Mora had noticed lately that he seemed to understand the concept of “looking” at something. Right now, his gaze appeared to be trained on the door to the laboratory, and his expression was convincing enough to compel Mora to turn around and look. Sure enough, Doctor Yopal was standing in the doorway. Mora almost praised Odo for it, but Yopal spoke before he had the chance.

“Do you think he believes…that hisname is Mora? Or do you think he even understands any of it at all?”

Mora felt immediately dejected, despite all the progress he’d been making this afternoon. “Well, only time will tell,” he said stiffly.

Yopal went on speaking, her usual refrain about men and the sciences, and to Mora’s grave embarrassment, Odo began to chatter behind her, a string of senseless syllables. “Mem. Dobake. Goobsine.”

Yopal at first raised her voice to speak over him, but she abruptly stopped speaking after a moment, looking at the shape-shifter with curious surprise.

“Mem dobake good sine-tiss.”

Yopal turned to Mora with openmouthed astonishment. “Do you hear what he just said?” She turned back to the shape-shifter. “Say it again, Odo’ital!”

“Mem dobe bake good sine-tist.”

“That’s right!” Yopal beamed. “That’s right, Odo! Men don’t make good scientists!” The Cardassian woman then did something Mora had never dreamed she was even capable of: she laughed.

“Odo,” Mora began, not sure quite how to respond.

“He’s making a joke, Mora!” She laughed again, and Mora was stunned at how natural her laughter sounded. But even more alarming than the revelation that the Cardassian scientist was capable of genuine emotion was the change that had come over Odo’s “face.” The strange pulling at the corners of his mouth looked anything but natural, but it was certainly nothing that he had ever even attempted before today—at least, that Mora had ever seen.

“He’s smiling,” Mora said.

“Yes, he is,” Yopal agreed.

This time, Mora laughed along with her.

Keeve Falor was a quiet-speaking man, dressed as shabbily as everyone else on Valo II, but with an even more elaborate earring than the one worn by Akhere Juk. Laren did not recognize the design; she only knew a few of the D’jarrasymbols, and his was not one that she had ever seen before. Bram, however, seemed to know Keeve right away, though by his face or his D’jarra,Laren wasn’t sure.

“Minister,” Bram said reverently, as Juk and Mace began the introductions.

Keeve broke into a sheepish laugh. “Not Minister. Not for a long, long time.” He extended his hand to Bram, who shook it warmly. “We’re all more or less equals here on Valo II.”

“But we do often defer to Keeve when a decision is to be made,” Juk cut in.

Laren mentally nodded to herself; the D’jarras didstill have some pull here, just as she had imagined. Keeve’s D’jarramust have designated him to the class of politicians and civilian leaders.

The adults commenced to talking about what to do with this and that, where could Laren and Bram make their camp, how could they return to Bajor, the specifics of which did not particularly interest Laren—at least not while Bis was standing so near. She imagined that Bis had probably lived on this windy, dusty rock his entire life. He had never even seen a proper tree before. The foliage here was scraggly, with sparse leaves and dry, crackling branches, nothing at all like the grand forests in Jo’kala. She pitied him, a little.

Laren wondered many things about Bis. Had he ever seen a Cardassian, here on this world? Had he ever flown in a shuttle? Was he impressed that she had been in a raider all by herself?

“So, if you and your daughter would like, we could set up a tent for you, just outside of—”

“I’m nothis daughter,” Laren interrupted Keeve fiercely. She’d have expected Bram to have told him at least that much.

Keeve looked surprised, and a little amused. “Begging your pardon, my dear. So how is it that you came to be in a ship all alone, in Cardassian-controlled space?”

Bram answered for her. “I look after her,” he said. “She’s something of an orphan. My resistance cell has taken her in. We’re teaching her how to fly—”

“I already knowhow to fly.”

Keeve continued to look surprised, and Bram spoke quickly.

“Laren, please. My apologies—I’ve not done a very good job teaching her any manners. She lived on the streets, when I found her, running with a crowd of beggars…”

“I’m no beggar,” Laren interrupted. “I stole things from the Cardassians. That’s why Bram wanted me along, because I can break into their stockades better than any of the grown-ups in the resistance cell. He needs me to disable the security feeds before anyone approaches.”

Keeve looked a bit unsettled as he turned to Bram. “She can’t be more than twelve,” he said.

“I’m fourteen!” Laren shouted.

“ Laren!It’s true, Keeve, the girl does have talent. She can hack into a security system like nobody’s business, and I can’t even begin to figure how she does it.” He shot her a pointed look. “I’d never tolerate her impertinence if she wasn’t good for something.”

Keeve’s expression reset itself to one of thoughtfulness. “Is that right?” he said, and he turned to look at Laren. “So, you fight in the resistance, do you?”

Laren decided she didn’t like his tone. “Yes,” she said sulkily. “And what do youdo, here on Valo II, to try and drive out the spoonheads?”

Keeve’s eyebrows shot up and he addressed Bram. “I see what you mean, about the manners,” he said, one corner of his mouth twisted into a forced-seeming smile. He turned away for a moment to speak quietly with Juk and Mace, arguing good-naturedly in hushed tones. Laren could barely catch the gist of what they were discussing, but she was fairly certain it had something to do with her. Juk’s voice rose above the others more than once, saying, “She’s only a child!”

“You’ll have to help me set up our tent, Laren,” Bram said, apparently trying to draw her away from the conversation, but Laren did not answer, straining to hear what the other men were talking about. She caught Bis’s eye as he shifted his attention from his father’s conversation back to her, and she quickly looked away again, forgetting the men for the moment.

Keeve stepped away from the tight circle he’d made with the other two, and he turned back to Laren. “Well, Laren. If you can hack into Cardassian computer systems, then we might just have a little job for you. You ask what we are doing to fight against the Cardassians, and I’ll tell you. We observe. We gather information. And we have a little reconnaissance mission that I think might benefit rather well from a little girl who knows how to bypass a Cardassian security system. A simple download at a hidden facility. Does this interest you at all?”