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Bareil's gardens were more beautiful in reality than the holoprograms Tranquility had experienced back on the station. The trees and flowers seemed more vibrant and full of life. Birds and winged insects flew and flitted about the plants, and a number of climbing rodents seemed to have made their homes in some of the trees. Tranquility heard their rustlings and squeaks as they passed.
"You undersell what you have achieved here, Bareil," they told their companion warmly. "I hope you will not object if I spend a significant portion of my time in this place."
"Not at all. I anticipated it." His smile faded as they reached a particular corner of the garden that seemed less well-tended. "I apologise for the state of these beds," he said solemnly. "I've been doing what I can for them, but it hasn't been enough."
Tranquility moved closer to one of the beds, looking down at the wilting flowers within.
"There still seems to be life in them," they murmured, reaching out to touch one of the plants. "Weak, certainly, but they may be saved yet."
"I have tried all the methods I know," Bareil told them, sounding as if the plants were dear friends he was losing. "I would not presume to impose, but if you believe they can yet be saved, your help would be sincerely appreciated."
Tranquility turned toward him, simulating a gentle smile.
"I would be glad to assist." They shifted one hand into an intricate device they had often used at home, and activated it with a thought.
Bareil's eyes widened at the site.
"I had no idea you could change your anatomy into something like that," he said in wonder. "Is it fully functional?"
"Yes," they responded, placing the tip of the scanning device against the soil in the garden bed, and concentrating. A short rod extended into the soil, and they began a preliminary scan. "Such an intricate shift takes practice. Shifting one's entire being into such a form is considerably easier than changing only one extremity." The scan concluded, and a flashing purple light appeared on the screen of the device. "Ah," they murmured. "It is as I thought."
"What does that mean?" Bareil asked.
"The soil has been tainted," Tranquility told him gravely. "I will have to conduct more scans, but I suspect these plants have been poisoned."
"Sabotage?" Bareil's tone gave little away, but his eyes betrayed his shock.
"Possibly." Tranquility began another scan. "The taint would not have been present here when you acquired the soil for this bed. I assume these flowers were once healthy?"
"Thriving." Bareil's gaze lowered to the sorry-looking plants. "Should I fetch a reclamator?"
"That would require removing the plants, and they are quite fragile at present. They may not survive such a procedure." They turned to smile at him, even as they ran a third test. "I will personally see to the cleansing of the affected beds," they said. "The plants will recover, but they will need closer attention than you can provide at present."
"You needn't trouble yourself," Bareil protested. "You've only been on Bajor for a day."
"Perhaps," Tranquility countered, "but this is a delicate task, and I have the necessary capabilities to accomplish it." Their expression softened. "It is the least I can do to repay the kindness you have shown me."
He returned their smile.
"Thank you, Bromeliad."
"I may need Leyona's assistance," they told him. "Would you send her to me?"
"Of course."
As he retreated, the third scan concluded. This toxin seemed to be a form of herbicide, noticeably diluted. Had it not been, the damage would have been far worse, and perhaps beyond even their skill to reverse. As it was, they would be able to keep their promise, given sufficient time, and certain resources.
Tranquility spent several days tending the beds, drawing the toxins out of the soil by use of carefully targeted acid-shifting—they would pull them into their root system while in plant form, and convert them into safer or more beneficial compounds. Such precision took centuries to master, and required dedication. Tending plants was a favourite activity of theirs, so this technique for keeping soils chemically balanced had been one of their goals when they were younger. Now, it was serving them very well indeed.
Leyona, as an Attendant, only assisted with fetching and carrying implements when they required them, and watching over them in plant form, so they could focus on their task.
They were very pleased with their progress by the fourth day.
When they came down to the beds they'd been tending on the fifth day and found the toxin had returned almost to previous levels overnight, they were therefore understandably indignant. Even more so when they discovered, upon investigation, that two new beds were now affected.
"The saboteur has struck again," they told Bareil when Leyona had brought him down to them. "I believe this has been an ongoing campaign against your plants."
He sighed.
"I would ask why someone would do such a thing, but I have far too many enemies. Most would be considerably less subtle, but this is clearly meant to strike at my heart."
Tranquility nodded.
"With your permission," they said, "I would like to post a guard here to watch over the plants by night. They will be unseen, and not attack unless provoked."
Bareil looked pensive.
"I mean no disrespect, Bromeliad, but your guards unsettle me. I don't want anyone harmed over a few raised beds, whatever their actions."
They nodded, having anticipated this reticence.
"Then perhaps I will station myself here, inconspicuously. I will do no harm if I catch someone in the act, but I will remember their face."
Bareil gave them a considering look.
"You have already done so much for me in this regard. To give up your nights as well is a lot to ask for anyone, much less a guest."
Tranquility smiled.
"If you are concerned about lack of rest, there is no need. I am Link-raised. I do not need to regenerate daily, or even weekly. Once a month is usually sufficient, and some of us can go as long as three months before needing to revert."
Bareil's expression softened.
"You're invested in solving this mystery, I take it?"
They nodded. "I have already given this task several days of my attention, and some inconsiderate solid miscreant has made the critical error of acting against me."
"Then there's no point in my trying to dissuade you." He regarded them gravely. "I will request that you leave the confrontation of the perpetrator to me, when you have found them out."
"A fair request," Tranquility agreed. "I am, as you have already stated, a guest in your domain."
It took another three days before the would-be plant-killer made an appearance. During that time, Tranquility continued their work,, attending to each affected bed in rotation. Despite all, some of the plants were beginning to perk up, new green leaves forming on stems that had been bare, or had only wilted foliage when they first arrived.
On the fourth night since they had begun their twenty-six-hour guard duty, they were planted among several recovering shrubs, emulating their appearance almost exactly, when they heard footsteps approaching. It was far too late in the evening for any of the junior gardeners to be making their rounds.
Tranquility carefully extended vine-like tendrils from their main body, allowing the receptors they bore to get a clearer view of the newcomer. They also raised several of their branches above the height of their nearest neighbours, the better to observe their immediate surroundings.
The stranger approached their bed, the light from the two waxing moons currently overhead bathing their figure in silver. They were slight of build, their head covered. Very carefully, using the wind to disguise what they were doing, Tranquility leaned slightly in the figure's direction as they came closer. They held what appeared to be a plant mister in their hands—its purpose was quite apparent.
The stranger aimed their weapon and started spraying a fine layer of tainted water over the plants nearest them. They moved around the edge of the bed, Tranquility following them with their receptors, until the wind picked up and swept the hood back from their head, blowing some of their poisoned mist back in their face. The stranger covered their mouth with their free hand, stifling the brief coughing fit getting a taste of their own medicine induced, but in the moment before they did that, Tranquility had gotten a good look at their face.
They—she was young, no older than Commander Sisko's son, if they were any judge. Her brown hair had been tied back in two short tails, and a dull metal earring hung from one ear. Her eyes were grey and intent. There was a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and ridged nose.
Tranquility committed the details to memory, and held their position until the girl had moved on.
For the rest of the night, they patrolled, taking an inventory of the intruder's targets and mitigating the damage where they could.
As soon as the temple bells rang out for the morning meal, they shifted into a favoured bird form, and went to find Bareil.
Antos recognised the face Bromeliad showed him at once. His initial reaction was relief. He wouldn't need to track her down. He knew her by sight, if not by name. She attended the temple services semi-regularly, and all he would need to do was bide his time.
He asked after her identity, during the intervening days. One of his aids informed him her name was Nehala, that she had no living family, and had just aged out of the orphanage where she had been raised.
Poor child, he thought as he heard this. Sixteen and alone in the world.
He didn't need more information to guess why she was attacking his plants, but he still wanted to meet with her at the first opportunity.
That chance came at the next scheduled service. He saw her take a seat in one of the back rows, bowing her head in apparent reverence before he got more than a glimpse of her freckled face. But her hairstyle and the distinctive scrap metal earring marked her clearly enough for him.
He pointed her out to one of his aids.
"Keep an eye on her for me," he said quietly. "When she's about to leave, even if it's during prayer or in the middle of the sermon, approach her and take her to my study."
"What if she resists?"
Antos hesitated, but the plan he had formed over the past few days was a sound one, and he believed it would bear fruit.
"Tell her someone wishes to discuss a job opportunity that has opened up, and is interested in her. She won't resist you then."
"Meaning no offence, Your Worship, but you aren't known for deception."
"I am not being deceptive," he said quietly. "It is simply not the only thing I wish to discuss with her."
The aid sighed.
"I'll see to it, then."
There was a vase on his desk when he entered the room. It was large, and filled with orange flowers that had apparently been arranged in clusters according to type. Bromeliad had outdone themself when it came to this form. There were at least half a dozen different species of flower on display.
Nehala sat in one of the chairs intended for guests, her head bowed. She glanced up as he entered, and froze, eyes widening.
"Vedek Bareil?" Her voice was huskier than he had expected. He wondered if she'd spent any time in one of the work camps.
"Hello, Nehala," he said gently, closing the door behind him and moving toward his own, more comfortable, chair. Her eyes followed his movements, but dropped back to the desktop when he sat down.
"You wanted to see me?" Nehala asked. "Or was the job offer made-up?"
"Why would you assume I would make up such a thing?" he asked, still gently.
"Because someone like you wouldn't look twice at someone like me," she said, looking up again. Her eyes were hard, and the anger in them was plain. "I'm not stupid. Someone saw me, didn't they?"
"We've seen you at temple many times."
"Don't play dumb, Bareil. You're terrible at it."
He sighed.
"I am aware of your more illicit activities of late," he said. "I have my suspicions as to why you chose to act as you have."
"Are you going to call security? Send me to prison for trashing your precious plants?"
"I fully intend on doing neither of those things," he told her candidly. "I want to understand, Nehala."
"What is there to understand? You know already! I hate you!"
"Why?" He did not raise his voice to match hers, maintaining outward calm.
"It doesn't matter!"
"It matters to me."
"Why should it? Why should you care? You haven't cared about most of Bajor since—" She cut herself off, looking down again.
"Go on," he prompted, still calm.
"Stop it!" she demanded of the desktop. "Stop pretending like you don't know!"
"I have upset many people, for many reasons, over the last year and a half, Nehala. I could guess at yours, but I might be wrong."
"The Cardassians, okay?" She leveled another glare at him. "You think you can just be nice to those scaly bastards and everything will be moba and ice-cream? After what they did to all of us? Or were you so sheltered in your monastery that you could ignore all of that?"
"I was a troubled child," Antos told her, still calm. "I lost my family young, as you did. I was not blind to the suffering of my people at the hands of the Cardassian occupiers. No Bajoran could be."
"Then why?"
"Because we cannot heal if there is always a storm brewing on the horizon. We need peace for Bajor's sake."
She made a derisive sound.
"Typical idealist. It's not gonna work, you know. I'm not the only one who's pissed with you because of this Prophets-damned peace treaty."
"I'm well aware." He reached across the table to lay a hand over hers. She pulled both hands away from him before he could do more than graze the back of one with his fingers, and folded her arms across her chest.
"Don't touch me!"
"All right," he responded, still calmly, withdrawing his own hand. "May I ask you another question?"
"Sure, whatever." She looked down again.
"Why did you target those beds, specifically?"
"You care more about those gardens than the rest of Bajor," she muttered. "People are starving and you grow pretty flowers and pretend like everything's sooo great."
"So that is why you left the herb gardens and vegetable beds alone?"
She didn't reply for a long moment.
"People eat the food you grow here. You send it to the communal kitchens. I don't want to make my friends sick."
"I thought as much."
She must have heard the smile in his voice, because her eyes snapped up to his again. There was still anger, but also confusion, and more than a little frustration.
"Why aren't you more—Why are you smiling?"
"Because I was right about you. You don't really want to harm anyone."
"I do so! Why aren't you mad at me?"
"What good would it do? I think you're angry enough for the two of us, to be quite honest."
"This is—You're not supposed to—I killed some of your plants! Why don't you hate me?"
"You haven't killed any of them yet." He glanced at the vase of flowers. "And a friend of mine has been counteracting the chemical you used for over a week now." He let his smile fade. "If you had truly wanted to hurt me, Nehala, you would have tried harder to do irreversible damage. You didn't. I don't believe you hate me as much as you're trying to convince me you do."
Nehala's lip quivered.
"You're—You're too damn nice!"
"And you," he responded, "are young, and hurting, and angry at the world you were born into. I know your pain. I can't be too hard on you for it."
"I—" Her voice cracked, and she covered her face with her hands, but not before he saw her eyes fill with tears.
He stood, moving around the desk as she buried her head in her arms and began to weep in earnest. He laid a comforting arm around her heaving shoulders, and took it as a good sign when she didn't try to shrug him off.
"There now," he murmured. "Let yourself feel."
Her sobs redoubled.
He stroked her back in comforting circles, letting her cry herself out. When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were swollen and her cheeks wet.
"You're really hard to hate," she said in a small, broken voice.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
She laughed, a weak, watery sound, but a laugh all the same.
"What now?" she asked, thickly.
He passed her a replicated box of tissues.
"Now, you're going to dry your face and blow your nose, and we can discuss that job offer my aid told you about."
"So that is real?"
"I'm not in the habit of lying. Now, clean yourself up, and we can get down to business."
"Why offer her a gardening job?" Tranquility asked as they made their way out of the building with Bareil later.
"She needed a purpose." He smiled slightly in their direction. "And it's custom among Bajorans to give troubled youths like Nehala an outlet for whatever is troubling them, usually in the form of employment. They learn responsibility for their actions, they see their work making a difference in the world around them, and they find an inner balance." He stopped walking and turned toward them, his face solemn and eyes sad. "She was a lost child with nowhere to turn, so she found someone to hate. But her heart wasn't in it. I trust her in the gardens because she cares more than she'd let on. And I don't believe she will do further harm."
"You may be right," Tranquility conceded. "I will keep an eye on her for a time, however. Just to be sure."
"Suit yourself," Bareil said, shrugging as he turned to continue walking. "I hope you will spend some more time in your guest quarters, though, now the mystery has been solved."
Tranquility thought of a particular reason they had wanted to come to Bajor.
"I expect I shall," they said.