Al Beckett studied his wife. She looked sad and preoccupied, as if a thousand worries weighed her down with a burden from which she would never free herself. With her grey eyes like storm clouds she cast a glance around his quarters. "You'll increase the temperature?"

"I promise," he nodded, giving no indication of how much he did not want to. He watched Samantha's cat prowl around the furniture for a moment, "and I remember she likes feline supplement forty four."

"And she should be bathed once a week," Sam's tone was grave and solemn, like the expression she wore.

"Of course," Al nodded again, "And her favorite sweater is the yellow one and I will let her sleep on my bed if she wants," he did not tell Samantha what a sacrifice that last statement was. The hairless cat liked to snuggle under the covers to stay warm and took great delight in waking people early.

Samantha, appreciating Al's patience and his offer to take care of Bathu, stepped forward suddenly and hugged him. She held her husband in a tight embrace. "I don't want to go to Mariposa," she whispered, as if keeping her voice down would somehow make her feel better.

"It's only a month," he reassured, "You'll be back here before you know it."

Stepping back, she only nodded. It had taken almost losing Al for Sam to realize she loved him. Her sensitive nature and fragile pride had very nearly cost her marriage, but even with things growing better, they still had a lot to work out. Which wasn't going to happen with Sam being sent to Mariposa for a month. "I'd better go," she knelt to stroke Bathu and then left, heading for the transporter room and Starbase 313.

* * * *

Three days later, on board the USS Ghandi, Samantha sat in her quiet guests' quarters, going over a summary of the Mariposan colony. On stardate 42823.2 the USS Enterprise had gone to the aid of colonists on Bringloid V. The colonists had come from Earth, following the guidance and dreams of Liam Diegham, and settled there to lead a simple, agrarian life . Solar flares threatened to destroy the colonists and Captain Jean Luc Picard had no other choice but to take the farming people onto his ship. At this time they discovered a second colony on the planet Mariposa. The Mariposans had travelled with the Dieghan's followers before the two groups had separated over two hundred years earlier to lead their very separate lifestyles.

Shortly after contacting the Mariposans, the Enterprise crew discovered that, though advanced in technology, the people of Mariposa faced their own kind of extinction. The Mariposans were all clones and in danger of suffering from replicative fading. After their request for new DNA was refused, the Mariposans tried to steal genetic samples from two of the Enterprise officers. Finding no other solution, Picard arranged for the Bringloidi to live on Mariposa. The Mariposans had to abandon their cloning practices and everyone had to adapt to the idea of multiple spouses to provide a broad enough genetic base for a healthy population. Samantha read all of this and wondered what she might find there.

A week after her departure, the USS Potemkin beamed her down to Mariposa. Samantha arrived with her uniform smooth, her hair in a tidy ponytail, a medkit under her arm and a resolve to make this temporary assignment a success. As the transport completed she found herself in a large foyer, very sleek and tasteful, with a color scheme of no-nonsense grey, black, and white. Samantha turned slowly around in a complete circle to see it all. As she completed her rotation, she found a person before her.

"Fancy that," a strong Irish accent observed, "Another Starfleet officer."

Sam found herself faced by a red-haired woman with alert, clever eyes. She stepped forward and said, "I'm Ensign Samantha Beckett, I was looking for Victor Granger-"

"Looking for Granger are ye, Starfleet? To spend two weeks getting to know our planet just so's you can hop on the first ship out once you've learned to be useful?"

Sam was quite taken aback by the woman's brashness. Her confidence faltered, she was no longer a Starfleet officer, but a simple-minded young woman with nothing to say, "Well, I, I-"

"No matter, come with me."

"Yes ma'am," Sam was compelled to answer formally.

"None of that 'ma'am' for me, if you please. My name's Brenna Odell and I'll thank you to remember it."

"Of course Miss Odell."

"Misses Odell," the correction came, "We've still yet to devise a method of surnames," she paused, looking weary, "If I had known..."

"Known what?" Samantha hoped to establish a friendly atmosphere by showing some concern.

"When Captain Picard dumped us here as so much baggage he said I was welcome to leave with the ship and go where ever I wanted," her eyes lit with a sudden fire, "An' I've learned to wish I'd accepted the offer."

Brenna Odell turned and began striding away, leaving Sam to run in order to catch up. She understood that the Mariposans had to enforce a strange, and understandably objectionable, principle of multiple marriage partners. Each woman was to have at least three children, all with different fathers. Sam wondered what sort of family structure they applied... did any one couple form a household, and which set of children did they keep? And was this the source of Misses Odell's discontent? "It must be a difficult way of life," Sam sympathized as she caught up.

"Yes," Brenna agreed, bitterness in her voice, "But not for us."

Sam returned a silent, puzzled expression.

"For the children," Brenna explained.

Before she could ask any more, Sam found herself entering a tidy office of the same monochromatic shades. A thin man with receding, grey hair stood from behind a desk and welcomed them.

"You must be Ensign Beckett," his smile and temper were a wonderful contrast to that of Brenna Odell.

"Yes," she answered, relieved to have found someone of a milder nature, "And you're-"

"Wilson Granger, Prime Minister," he shook her hand graciously and said, "I would like to offer you the guest quarters in my home during your stay here."

"Thank you," Sam nodded politely, she suddenly realized something and said, "Wasn't I supposed to report to a Mr. Victor Granger?"

"Yes," the prime minister answered, "but he was called away on an emergency. He and I work quite closely these days, so I volunteered to welcome you for him. And you've already met my wife, so..." he paused at the nurse's expression.

"I have?" she wondered aloud.

"Oh," Brenna stepped into the conversation, her voice that of insult and sarcasm, "So, you don't think the Prime Minister would have a wife so uncivilized as myself?"

"No, I... I... I'm sorry... you know uh, what you said before... uh surnames... I forgot," Sam blushed fiercely, "Your name's Odell and I..."

"Brenna please," Granger sighed and addressed his wife, "Whatever prejudices my colleagues have had over the years, this young woman could not possibly share them."

"I suppose," she allowed haughtily.

Granger shook his head wearily, "Shall we go then? We'll take the ground shuttle to our home and get acquainted."

Within minutes Sam found herself seated in a comfortable, small vehicle that was very much like a shuttle craft, but with more windows. It skimmed along above the ground, giving them a view of the city and then the countryside as they moved away from the bustling metropolis.

"Brenna insisted we live on a farm," Granger smiled, "and while I originally opposed the idea, I have found it most agreeable."

In a short measure of time they arrived at beautiful two-story home, old-fashioned to Sam's eyes. A barn and other out-buildings stood nearby and five children were playing in the yard where chickens scratched in search of insects. Brenna stood, hands on her hips and surveyed the yard, looking towards the barn with a frown. Granger was pointing out different things to Samantha when their impromptu tour was interrupted.

"FATHER!" Brenna shouted at the top of her lungs, "Where are you!"

"Right here, my darlin'," an old man came shuffling around the corner of the house, "What's all this hollerin' for?"

Samantha stared in surprise. Could this soft-spoken old man really be Brenna's father?!

"Danilo," Granger greeted, and then introduced Sam as though she were royalty, "This is Ensign Beckett, the officer from Starfleet."

This man with greying hair and beard, and eyes that sparkled with humor and kindness, smiled and shook her hand warmly. "From Starfleet are ye?"

"Nevermind that," his daughter took center stage again, "Have the children finished their chores?"

"Oh, um..." he mumbled something with a good-natured shrug and spoke to Samantha again, "Say, whatever become of that captain... what was his name dear?" he then turned to his daughter with the question.

"Picard," she answered shortly, "And it's no matter to us, have you started dinner yet?"

"Ah!" Danilo's face lit up, "I knew I was fergittin' something now!"

Brenna threw her hands in the air and began scolding her father as if he were one of the children. Sam watched as Brenna reproved Danilo for his forgetfulness. But the senior Odell took this all rather calmly, nodding now and then and making vague promises to do better in the future. Moments later Brenna ordered everyone into the house for dinner, and they all obeyed without hesitation.

"Brenna, if you'll excuse us, Miss Beckett and I will be in the study while you prepare dinner," Granger said after they went inside.

"Leave me with all the cooking," she disapproved, "Very well, YOU can't cook at all anyway!"

"I will clean up the kitchen afterwards," he promised meekly, leading Samantha away as Brenna began calling the older children to help set the table.

Samantha admired the rooms as they walked, appreciating the combination of the two cultures. Technology and tradition complimented each other, bringing together the best of modern conveniences and familiar comforts. "Is this how most families live on Mariposa?"

"Well, it varies from one household to another," they reached the study and sat down at a small table littered with empty glasses and childrens' picture books, "Would you like to hear about our family structures?"

Sam nodded eagerly, she loved learning about different cultures, especially firsthand from real people instead of databases.

"Well, as I'm sure you know, it was decided that everyone would have children by three different partners," he shook his head, "The problems and implications of that are too lengthy to describe... but eventually it was agreed that children would remain with their biological mothers and after having three the women could choose a permanent husband. This worked out so that many families have two Bringloidi parents or two Mariposan parents. Many Bringloidi households can be found nearby or other areas of undeveloped countryside. Purely Mariposan families often live in the cities. And those that are combined, like our own here, often compromise - as you can see."

Sam waited for him to go on, enjoying the peaceful narrative after Brenna's constant criticism.

"It's changed our way of life forever," he said, almost to himself, then met Samantha's eyes, "The Bringloidi have lost much of their agrarian lifestyle and we..." he fumbled a bit, struggling with a way to explain, "I mean, having children..." he shrugged, "They're quite a mystery."

Samantha recalled that the Mariposans, until this point in time, had all been cloned. Did that mean-?

"I was never a child," he answered her unspoken question, "and their growth and development are all so new for us. And that's only the beginning! They're so... so strange! It's difficult understanding how to be a father when I never had one myself. At first Starfleet provided us with some instructors on the basics of parenting and the information to begin the study of pediatrics, but we've been rather left to our devices of late."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Samantha sympathized, "I would never expect Starfleet to abandon-"

"Oh no," he was quick to interrupt, "Not really abandon. But I fear they've overestimated our abilities. Mariposan technology cannot compensate for our lack of experience and Bringloidi tradition falls short of modern world realities," here he paused, considering years of trail and error, "Did you know that children don't learn at the same rate? We've had a terrible time establishing an educational system. But that's not the real problem now."

Suddenly a child appeared in the doorway, "Time to eat!" he announced and scampered away.

"What problem?" Sam pressed as they stood up.

"We'll discuss if after dinner," he suggested, "Brenna will be cross if we're late to the table.

* * * *

"Don't you have replicators?" Sam asked, making conversation at the start of the meal.

"Yes if you don't mind eating slop," Brenna paused to study the modern kitchen, "But I will admit, cooking's a fair sight easier now than over a fire."

Granger and Danilo dared to enter the discussion. "The Bringloidi," Granger explained, "Have maintained many of their original customs, but they've also learned to appreciate some modern conveniences."

At this Brenna laughed, "And you," she retorted to her husband, "Have learned to appreciate good cooking."

"Brenna only cooks with what she calls 'real' food," Granger explained, "And I must admit, it is better."

"Though probably not up to Starfleet's almighty standards," Brenna said to Sam.

Samantha studied her plate, determined not to glower at her hostess. Trying to maintain a polite expression, she regarded the five children seated around the table, "I don't believe I caught the children's names."

"That would be because we haven't introduced you," Brenna stated, as if Sam were an idiot. She gestured to the two oldest children, a boy and girl who looked to be seven and six respectively, "My children Michael and Katelyn," and then a pair of red-headed twins both of about four, "Joshua and Jared," and finally another four year old, "and father's boy Brandon."

Samantha was curious about this, but Brenna was glaring at her again, so she said nothing. She had hoped to speak with Granger in more detail about this problem he had spoken of. But as the meal ended, Brenna insisted that he help clean up the kitchen.

* * * *

The next morning, travelling back towards the city, Samantha learned more about Mariposa. Brenna accompanied them again, and Sam wondered if Misses Odell worked with her husband, but she didn't dare to ask.

"The problem you see," Granger explained, "is that the Bringloidi have plenty of knowledge on childrearing, but little medical knowledge. And we have more than enough medical technology... but here on Mariposa we have never had children before. We've been able to deal with a lot of childhood illnesses, but lately many of the children have developed a strange ailment. Frankly, Ensign, we're at a complete loss."

Samantha considered his words and felt a sinking feeling. It was all up to her, she had no CO to hand this over to. "Well," she began doubtfully, "Do you have any findings by other Starfleet officers?"

"I'm afraid not," Granger tried to disguise his annoyance, "Despite their promises, Starfleet authorities have not sent us any officers for quite some time. You are the first in over six months."

"Six months?" by Sam's understanding Starfleet would be helping the Mariposans far more than this.

He nodded, "I understand that you are all very busy, we are but one of many worlds in need of assistance," he sighed, "but Starfleet was much more enthusiastic about confiscating our replicating facilities than helping us afterward."

"But they have helped."

"True, true, they have-"

"Nonsense!" Brenna Odell insisted, "Precious lot of good it does to fly around the galaxy while children are wasting away to nothing!"

"Could I please see these children?" Sam hoped to avert an argument.

"That you could," Odell nodded as the vehicle reached its destination. She gestured to the door, "Come with me."

When they arrived, Sam stood in silence in the children's ward of the clinic. The children did not look as ill as she had expected, but neither did they display the rambunctious energy that characterized healthy kids. Many were underweight and pale, with dark circles under their eyes and unhealed bruises on their arms and legs. A man who looked remarkably like Wilson Granger hurried forward.

"Ensign Beckett?" he extended his hand, "I'm so sorry I haven't been able to meet you sooner."

"Victor Granger?" she guessed, shaking his hand.

"Yes," he nodded, "I've been compiling this data in the hopes that you would turn it over to Starfleet. We need their help."

"So you do," she agreed, studying the children.

"We noticed when the kids didn't recover from their usual scrapes and cuts," Victor Granger began, "And then we noticed other things... delayed growth development-"

"And their bones," Brenna gestured to a few little ones with braces on their arms, "They do no more than simply fall down and their bones break!"

Wilson Granger, silent all this time, asked of Sam, "Can you help?"

And Samantha noticed the children, looking to her with bright, hopeful eyes. They recognized her as one of Starfleet's medical officers, someone who, to their young minds, had come to work miracles. 'But I can't work miracles!' was the panicked cry in Sam's mind as she found herself nodding confidently.

"Wonderful!" Wilson Granger's face seemed to lose ten years' worth of worry as he smiled, "Just tell us what you need to get started."

"First," Sam's mind raced and she spoke slowly to stall for time, "first of all... we'll need... to get DNA samples from the children."

"Because of the chance of mutations leading up to replicative fading?" Victor Granger guessed. "We're fairly certain that that won't be the case."

"What makes you say that?"

"With Starfleet's help we've screened all the children at the time they were born."

"And no abnormalities showed up?"

"None."

"Hmmm," she was surprised by that. "Still, that was several years ago. Changes could have occurred since then so we should get samples and-"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Why not?"

Granger took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We're not permitted to build or use any equipment that might have connection with replicating technology."

"But that's-" Sam broke off, not wanting to speak badly of Starfleet. The Mariposans were unimpressed enough already.

"Ridiculous, we already know that," Brenna finished for the ensign and turned to her saying, "But what I'd like to know is what you're going to do about it."

Though intimidated by this bossy woman, Samantha kept her head up and pulled a tricorder from her medkit, "I'm going to scan them as best I can and see what I can find out." The tricorder couldn't provide quite as much detail, but it would have to do.

Throughout the day Sam found she could not grow accustom to the strange family structures. While at the clinic she saw parents coming to visit the children, bringing with them spouses and children unrelated to the child in question. With everyone having children with no less than three other people, Sam was befuddled as to how they would keep track of whose children belonged to whom. As they returned to the farmhouse that evening Granger assured her all the information was kept on meticulous file and not quite so confusing when one understood it.

"Nonsense!" Misses Odell proclaimed as they climbed the wooden steps, "When the first group of children grow old enough to marry there'll be no telling how to pair them off!"

The prime minister could only shake his head tiredly, following his stubborn wife into their house. Sam wondered if Brenna Odell might be right.

* * * *

A few days later, after much research and comparison and long evenings of hard work, Samantha sat alone in the study, going over the readings and data. And still finding nothing. A harsh, accusing voice startled her.

"Well Starfleet?"

Samantha found Brenna standing with her hands on her hips, waiting for an explanation, "I'm sorry," the nurse offered, "It may take some time to-"

"Time!" Brenna raged, "You're supposed to be a doctor-"

"No," Sam was surprised that she got a word in, "I'm a nurse and-"

"You're bloody incompetent! You're supposed to help these children and you're saying you don't even know what's wrong?!"

"I can compile the raw data," Sam struggled to make her see, "I can prepare for a complete study to be done by someone else in the near future. I will only be here for another week and-"

"So that's it. You've come to do half a job and then leave us no better off than before. Typical Starfleet. If they hadn't left us on this damned planet to begin with-" Brenna Odell, suddenly at a loss for words, turned and left.

Samantha stared at the empty doorway, her lonely room in the Granger-Odell household seeming as huge and quiet as all of space after Brenna's tirade. Samantha sat on the old fashioned bed and scowled at no one. How she hated Brenna! To all her knew her, Samantha Beckett was a gentle, sensitive person. But Sam knew, as one can only know oneself, that she possessed the ability to be as fierce and nasty as anyone else. Maybe even moreso, because she forever kept her deepest anger to herself. Recalling the criticism and insults she had received, Sam stood up and headed downstairs. She didn't care if she was a guest, she was going to give Brenna Odell the most unpleasant round of insults she had ever heard!

Samantha was stomping by the time she reached the first floor. Her fists were clenched and her face was shadowed, twisted, by the expression she wore. She would give Misses Odell something to think about! As she stormed into the stillness of the living room, her feet faltered and slowed. Brenna was sitting on the sofa, weeping softly over her sewing. Samantha's anger calmed, wavered. Now would be the perfect time to launch into her attack, now when Brenna was so clearly upset and perhaps not so very bold. But Sam found herself hurrying over, to sit beside Brenna, wanting, though against her true will, to help.

"Please," Samantha ventured, timid suddenly in case Brenna should lash out at her, "What's wrong?"

Startled, Brenna looked up, her face wet with tears. She didn't seem embarrassed, just desperately sad. "Is there nothing to be done for the children?"

"I will inform Starfleet about the situation here," Sam promised, "They will send someone as soon as possible to take care of things."

"We've asked them before," Brenna's eyes, revealing more humanity than Sam would've thought possible, pleaded with her to listen, "They're too busy. After all our requests..."

"They only sent me, I know," Samantha finished, feeling grossly inadequate, "but when I make my report-"

"It won't be soon enough. The children need your help now Miss Beckett."

Samantha could say nothing. Her only recourse was to offer to stay past her posting time. But then how long would it be before she could return to the Endeavour, to Al? It was her duty to help these people, but she had no guarantee that she could help, even if she remained on Mariposa for a lifetime. Before she could begin to sort out these feelings, Brenna wiped her eyes and stood, glancing at the clock.

"I've got to get the baking done," she headed for the kitchen.

Samantha followed her and watched while Brenna set out an assembly of bowls and ingredients. They had spent hours reviewing the children's medical history and found nothing. They considered their homes and lifestyles, comparing every angle and factor... only to find nothing in common between any of them. Whatever illness plagued the children it affected those of pure Bringloidi and Mariposan bloodlines, those of combined parentage, those from the city and those of the farms. Sam stood, silent and lost in thought, watching Brenna as she measured out flour from a container in the cupboard, added fresh milk that had come from Danilo's cows. None of the children in this household were ill.

Danilo's boy Brandon, who lived here, was strong and healthy. His daughter Sarah, three farms away, was ill. Maybe not genetics. Maybe...

"Brenna."

Brenna looked up, pausing as she stirred some concoction in a heavy glass bowl. She waited, sensing the urgency in Sam's voice.

"Danilo took me to the Owens-Vallis farm, to meet his daughter there," she paced as she talked, "You've been there yourself?"

"Several times," Brenna answered, her hands still motionless, the work forgotten.

"Do they use a food replicator there?"

Brenna nodded, "David says cooking is a woman's job and Elizabeth has no idea how to prepare food," she shook her head, "Those two should never have-"

"Come on!" Sam snatched up her med kit and headed for the door.

Brenna, brushing flour from her hands and leaving the kitchen a mess, followed her out the door, "What is it?"

* * * *

Elizabeth Vallis and David Owens met Victor Granger at the door, Wilson Granger hurried out of the ground shuttle and came in on his heels. Both Grangers could hear voices coming from the next room and they didn't wait for an invitation. The four of them went into the kitchen where Sam and Brenna had taken the panel from the replicator.

"What is this about?" Victor asked.

"They said they needed to check something," Elizabeth answered, sharing his mystified expression, "And then they told us to send for you."

"There," Sam adjusted a switch, "Try it now."

Brenna began making an assortment of demands from the replicator, handing Samantha an apple, a glass of milk, a loaf of bread, and several more items. Sam piled them on the table, next to other stacks of food. They looked up to find their audience staring at them.

"What are you doing?" Wilson Granger asked, regarding them as if they had lost their minds.

"Look," Sam pulled out her tricorder and began scanning the separate collections of food. "This is the first batch we replicated," she showed them the results of the scan, "this is the second, here's the third-"

"Wait, wait," Victor Granger waved the device aside, "Explain."

Sam's eyes shone with triumph, "We figured it out! How long have you had replicators on Mariposa?"

Before he could answer, she went on, "And those replicators met the nutritional needs of adults. But not children. The vitamin contents were adequate for an adult's body, but not a child's. It was never a problem until now."

"Are you saying-"

"It's just a form of malnutrition, but you could never have known," she hastened to add, trying to calm the horror of the parents before her, "As the prime minister said, most of you have never even been children, nevermind tried to raise any. Deficiencies in the food replicators would be the last place anyone would look for the cause of the children's illness."

"But we have other children who aren't ill," Elizabeth Vallis pointed out.

"Everyone's needs are different," Sam told them, "And the impacts of nutritional imbalance will have varied effects." She paused before adding, "And I could be wrong, there could be another cause. But I would begin recalibrating all of the food replicators at once."

Brenna Odell threw her arms around Samantha, hugging her and stepping back to offer her a genuine smile. "You've done it!"

* * * * *

"Leaving then?" Danilo asked, watching Sam packing her small travel case.

"Yes."

"We're sorry to see ye leave, you've done a fine job."

"I didn't do much," Sam answered modestly.

"Oh ye didn't?" he challenged, "Why, I know a hundred families or more who're indebted to you."

Danilo followed Sam to the door and handed her a small item made of wood. It had been carved into the shape of a cat, curled up with its tail tucked neatly around it's forepaws. Enchanted, Sam studied the detail that had doubtless taken a lot of work.

"I noticed ye seemed to like the barn cats," he told her, "And I wanted to show me thanks for saving little Sarah."

"I love it," Sam tucked the present safely inside her travel case, "thank you." She said her goodbyes, thinking of how she would miss them - even Brenna, and hurried out to the ground shuttle. The USS Merrimac was due in at 1300 hours and she didn't want to be late.