"Treatment's Origin"

[Guest Fiona Weber]

Six years ago

 

It was, as usual, a glorious day on Cardassia. The usual glorious weather, usual glorious people, usual glorious smells...

 

If you liked the... superb... smell of fish in the morning. Which the operative... didn't. Oh well. She supposed one had to be born and raised a spoonhead for that.

 

It was "springtime" on Cardassia. A lovely thought -- or at least it should have been. Unfortunately, Cardassia lacked the seasonal cliches of little fluffy animals and blooming flowers. The only thing sprouting in the wasteland was bogweed, and even in the "airtight" barracks that all Starfleet facilities claimed to have, there was an all-pervading presence of bogweed pollen. Never in her life had the operative encountered such an allergy-wreaking substance. The plant was everywhere, causing her eyes to water and her sinuses to be very unhappy indeed. But now, hopefully, she was getting off this waste-dump of a world.

 

Spider had been on Cardassia for nearly five months. Two months of which were spent ingratiating herself to and fraternizing with the engineering teams legitimately assigned to the planet. The fact that the Federation was sending in teams to aid in the Cardassian Reconstruction sickened her, but until her mission had been accomplished, she'd had to live with her indigestion and play like it was the greatest humanitarian venture yet.

 

Granted, in the thirty minutes when she and her companion operative had completed their mission, they'd managed to set the whole business back about eighteen months -- and therefore left the formal channels of Starfleet doubting the viability and even the safety of the project. That did help to lessen the distaste of actually having to help the reconstruction teams in the time leading up to their mission's zero hour.

 

But now, that assignment was complete. The operative had seen her partner go, along with her "dear new friends and colleagues" in the engineering team they'd posed as part of. She was now, for all intents and purposes, alone and assignment-less.

 

While she waited for new instructions (and she'd been promised that new instructions would come, she'd been working at a small Starfleet research institute in the heart of Cardassia's new agricultural "breadbasket". About four people besides Spider were assigned there, looking at various nutritional yields of crops and how they could be improved. It didn't do any good for her bogweed allergy to be right in the heart of Plant Territory, and it was more humanitarian nonsense, but it served her needs of being a temporary station where she could join and leave without ever having been part of the spotlight.

 

But now, her "respite" was mercifully concluded, and she was sitting in a back room of the primary medical facility in the Cardassian capital city. There was a high-ranking agent across from her now, half masked behind a tall stack of padds. She hoped they held transfer orders to an assignment on some, other world...

 

"Your continued presence on Cardassia is required," the agent, identified only as "Raptor" informed, and she had to try hard not to let the chagrin show on her face. He noticed anyway.

 

"Let me continue, Spider," he chided. "Now, it is nothing.. particularly special to Cardassians, but it does have the resources we need easily available. And Cardassia is an easy place for people like us -- and the tasks we perform -- to go unnoticed."

 

Now Spider did interrupt. "What tasks, in this case, are we referring to?"

 

He nodded slightly, apparently approving of her directness. "Are you aware of the theorems published by Doctor Regon Lai last year?"

 

She tilted her head, remembering. "Ah yes -- the most recent in a string of radical papers that has the anti-eugenics community. What was this one again?" she asked rhetorically. "Genetic enhancement to ward off viruses in children, I think?"

 

"Close," he answered. "And I'm impressed, Spider. I see we picked the right operative for this assignment," Raptor added, suddenly brightly. He poured a small cup of water from the ice-laden pitcher adorning his desk, taking a sip before continuing. "Doctor Lai, in this case, abandoned enhancement in a strict sense. His genetics modeled simulated victims of various DNA and RNA-afflicting conditions and purified the unwanted genetic material in their bodies."

 

"Naturally," Spider offered, "his research is illegal, and could never be tested..."

 

The man across from her was suddenly wearing a chilling smile. "You'll be leading the research, Agent. The laboratories and test cases will be prepared by a week from tomorrow."

 

"Oh? And where?"

 

"In this very building." He smirked, sliding the stack of padds towards her. "You'll be conducting tests on fifty Cardassian children. Twenty-five were part of a military eugenics program started before the war. Fifteen otherwise-healthy children will be infected with a nucleotide-disruption virus of our own creation for research purposes. The remaining ten are our control group, to see how the process affects the healthy. What we're giving you to perfect is a rough version of a retrovirus several agents had been working on several years ago. The retrovirus works off of a sample of genetic material taken prior to any genetic alteration or damage that occurred, strains out the unwanted elements, and reconstructs any missing genes."

 

She nodded, looking over the padd topping the stack. "In theory, curing both the Cardassian genetic alterations and our own test nucleotide virus, and meanwhile having no discernible effects on the healthy subjects?"

 

"You're a quick study," he answered, smirking.

 

"And what about the children's parents? What cover story are we giving them?"

 

"Oh, that's not a concern. They're all orphans -- were wards of the state. And the state was happy enough to trade them for some favor or another."

 

The operative nodded, smirking. "We always manage to get what we want, don't we?" she commented, gathering the stack of padds. "A week from tomorrow, you said?"

 

"A week," he agreed, and Spider followed suit as he rose. "There was one other thing, Operative..."

 

"Yes?" she asked, peering up at him curiously.

 

"The agent assigned to you previously had made some note of... emotional attachments to the Cardassians... in the mission report. This won't be a problem, will it?"

 

She laughed outright, genuinely amused. "My partner had a very dry sense of humor. You can be assured I have no love for Cardassians," she answered.

 

"Very good," he answered, smirking. "After meeting you, I was rather struggling to see you the warm, friendly type."

 

"Then you're a wise man," she answered, her eyes glittering.

 

* * *

Thanks to a good bottle of Chardonnay and a mysteriously-requisitioned hypo of some (probably-illegal) anti-allergen, Spider had a plan of attack in place before a day and a half had passed. Three groups of test cases: Group One was made off the castoffs of the Cardassian Eugenics Program; Group Two was those to be infected with the nucleotide virus; Group Three was the healthy batch.

 

She was splitting each of the three groups into halves, assigning around two and a half months for each segment. Each segment would consist of a preparation stage, when "clean" genetic samples would taken of groups Two and Three before any infections with either the nucleotide virus or the retrovirus; an infection stage, in which the subjects would be kept at the medical facility for monitoring; and a final stage in which closing observation or treatment would be offered.

 

But there were other considerations as well. Ten of the twenty-five eugenics cases had terminal conditions or conditions predicted to end fatally. To further complicate things, one of the twenty-five was a Bajoran halfling -- a case Spider intended to make special note of. Hybrids always fascinated her, and the chance to examine hybridization coupled with non-"natural" genetic drift... the thought sent true shivers down her spine.

 

This was why she left Starfleet, she acknowledged as she worked. The lack of limits meant purer science.

 

* * *

 

"So your stomach is always aching?" It seemed like the twenty-thousandth time she'd had this "conversation" -- listening to a group of children describing the same symptoms over and over quickly became tiresome. Digestive afflictions of varying sorts. Various growth defects -- all except four were either sizably over or undersized for their ages. Ongoing headaches, insomnia, and insulin imbalances usually characteristic of old diabetes-group diseases. This was what the grand plans for the Better Breed of Cardassian had resulted in -- a complete waste of resources. It was really no wonder that eugenics research was banned by the orthodox Federation -- genetic research always ended up rushed for martial purposes or horribly mangled by some amateur.

 

Spider had been careful enough in her planning to ensure that none of the usual flaws would be present in her own work. The project was going to last about five months give or take a few weeks. Certainly not rushed. And she had been extensively trained by Starfleet for scientific research -- and had been doing it for years. Certainly she was no amateur.

 

The preparation stage for the first set had already begun -- as the fact she was sitting in the same room as a child showed. In a day she'd begin the "innoculations" on Group One, and would be monitoring the progressive reformation of genetic material. While she knew the first round of treatment wouldn't have a necessarily high rate of success, she was sure the procedures used on the second set would. She was better at fixing kinks than predicting them, after all, and as long as the final result came out the same, what did it matter? Better to run a complete survey once through.

 

"All the time," the little ridge-nosed half-spoonhead girl answered. "And a lot of headaches." Yeah, same as always. "Nothing seems to work."

 

"Hopefully this will," she answered, barely listening.

 

"I know that most people think we're... bad... because we were supposed to be different..."

 

"Mmmhmm." Noncommittal and nonpersonal. Good gods -- why didn't these kids ever realize that she wasn't their friend?

 

"I would have been different anyway." This one was a little older, Spider suddenly remembered -- six or seven, and quiet. The type who didn't go play with the building blocks with all the other children in the corner -- the one who tucked into a little chair and watched the world go by. "Mama's people hated Papa's... Papa's looked down on hers..."

 

"Such was always the way," the scientist agreed, half-mindedly.

 

"But they loved each other very much... that's why Papa had me in the same program as the other children. He wanted me to be happy and liked even though Mama wasn't a Cardassian..."

 

She gave a short laugh to herself. "Naturally, playing God with your child's DNA is the right way to do it..."

 

The child seemed on the verge of tears. "He just wanted me to be happy... but it just made me sick..." She was full-on crying now, and looked up at Spider through a mist of tears. "Please make it better, Doctor..."

 

"Now, there, there," Spider gave her a little pat on the head, having by now managed her "touched Cardassian - recoil" reflex. "I promise when we're done -- you'll be all better."

 

[align=center]* * *[/align]

 

"Good news or bad news first?" Spider's aide asked, holding out two padds. Three weeks' progress was coming to a head; she'd been called into the facility early that day, and privately hoped there was a good reason.

 

"Any news is good," she answered, waiting for the padds. "You pick."

 

"All of the eugenics-tests subjects have either been terminated due to the complications or are scheduled to be later today. Half have recovered from the nucleotide virus; all of the healthy ones are remaining healthy."

 

"Good. So it's a reaction with the genetic oddities that's killing the children, not with the virus itself. Is that the so-called 'good' news?" When he nodded, the operative smiled. "Excellent. And I've just been looking at some of the scans -- I think I know what's causing the breakdown in the treatment..." It didn't take long; too late Spider had noticed that it was locking onto seemingly random genetic receptors; simulations (and some additional injections) had shown that the newest modifications to the retrovirus should have corrected it for the next round.

 

"One other thing," Spider asked, catching sight of a denotation for the test group's "special" case. "Did the halfling die?"

 

"The Bajoran? Ah, no. She's still alive -- for now."

 

"Oh." The operative considered for a moment. "One room over, right?" Her aide nodded, and for a few moments, it seemed unclear on what she'd say. "Ah, good then," Spider finally settled on. "Make sure you gather the additional data on hybrid-retrovirus interaction before the subject is terminated."

 

For a moment he seemed skeptical, and she raised a brow. "Was there something more?"

 

"No," he answered, seeming to shake back to reality. "The rest is on your terminal."

 

"Very good."

 

* * *

 

"Successful tests, then, I garner from these materials?" Raptor motioned to a padd, and Spider smirked.

 

"Oh yes, very successful. If you read, by the end of the second trials, we were operating with a ninety-five percent survival rate and ninety-eight percent of DNA fully restored."

 

"Excellent!" He gave her a confident smile. "You've done... superb work here, Agent."

 

"I know, Sir," she answered, smugly. "As always, the best I can do."

 

"If we had a commendation -- we don't -- I'd offer it to you. However, I can offer you your next assignment based on your preferences, as a reward. Any thoughts?"

 

She smiled, leaning forward conspiratorily. "Something where I won't see a child or a blooming bogweed for an epoch."

 

Raptor considered. "Andoria?"

 

The same, dazzling smile. "Sounds perfect to me. Tell me more."

Edited July 13, 2008 by Fiona Weber