“And the artifact itself survived because it was in the eye of the storm,” Vaughn said.
Shar nodded. “Exactly.”
“And the forces that destroyed the planet flung the object way out here,” Nog said. The image of the powerful artifact caroming off billions of frozen planetesimals and icy Oort cloud fragments brought to mind a complicated bank shot on some cosmic dom-jot table.
Vaughn rose from the command chair. “Good work, gentlemen. Mr. Bowers, you have the bridge. Mr. Nog, I want you and your people to keep searching for a way around that blockade.”
“Aye, sir,” Nog found himself suppressing a sudden urge to smile. For some reason he couldn’t quite articulate, he felt he was on the verge of a breakthrough. But he knew that a good engineer didn’t discuss such things with his captain until afterhe’d taken the time to test them.
“Shar, I want you to come with me,” Vaughn said on his way to the turbolift.
Shar’s antennae rose in evident curiosity as he fell into step beside Vaughn. “Sir?”
“I want to know whether Sacagawea can shed some light on your translations,” Vaughn said, throwing a backward glance toward the image of the artifact. “Maybe he can even help us use it to get inside that thing.”
Striding into the medical bay a few paces ahead of Shar, Vaughn found the tableau that greeted him almost too painful to look at.
Julian Bashir was a mere shadow of himself, his hair mussed and beard stubble darkening his face. The doctor’s dark eyes resembled those of a frightened child. In spite of it all, he persevered through what appeared to be an attempt to examine his D’Naali patient, who sat impassively on one of the biobeds. Ezri and Ensign Richter hovered close by, their faces masks of pained sympathy as the doctor moved haltingly, waving a medical tricorder before Sacagawea.
“You’ve taken good care of him, Julian,” Ezri said, sounding awkward. “He seems…quite healthy now.”
Vaughn cleared his throat, immediately drawing the attention of Ezri and Richter. “I’d like to speak to our guest for a moment.”
Bashir turned toward Vaughn, staring at him without any apparent recognition. Vaughn found the idea of such a loss of self chilling in the extreme. Being over a century old, he sometimes wondered if senility would one day overcome him in much the same manner. It was difficult to imagine any worse fate.
“With your permission of course, Doctor,” Vaughn said, keeping his eyes on Bashir rather than on either of the two women. Regardless of his current condition, this was still Bashir’s medical bay; Vaughn wanted to be as solicitous of the doctor’s dignity as possible, without drifting into condescension.
Quietly lowering his tricorder, Bashir nodded.
Vaughn approached the tall, willowy alien, who regarded him with unfathomable, fist-sized eyes. Shar looked on quietly, evidently content to observe.
“We need your assistance,” Vaughn said.
As though mounted on gimbals, the alien’s head swiveled closer to Vaughn. “Debt/obligation I have,” it said, the universal translator rendering the words in incongruous bell peals. “With delight do I discharge same. What need/desire have you?”
“Your adversaries are preventing us from getting close to the…cathedral. We must find a way around that difficulty.”
The creature’s mouth parts moved laterally in what Vaughn thought might have been a smile. “Understand. You need/require interior access to the cathedral/ anathema.”
So far, Vaughn had had no luck in getting Sacagawea to explain why his people and the Nyazen were such bitter enemies. The creature either did not understand or was deliberately holding something back. Vaughn hoped he would make better progress pumping the alien for information about the artifact itself.
“Yes,” Vaughn said.
Sacagawea pointed a long, branchlike finger toward Bashir first, then Ezri. “Access you desire/require because of this pair. Touched by the cathedral/anathema have they been both. Misaligned in their worldlines are they both as consequence/result. And both deteriorating/worsening steadily, per timeunit.”
Remarkable,Vaughn thought as he parsed the alien’s tortuous locutions. Ezri and Richter both stood by, saucer-eyed.
“How could it know that Julian and Ezri have been altered by their contact with the artifact?” Shar said, sounding nonplussed.
His own curiosity already moving at high warp, Vaughn wanted that question answered as well. But he also felt an irresistible desire to learn more about the artifact itself.
“The cathedral has a special meaning for your people, doesn’t it?” Vaughn said. “And for the Nyazen as well.”
“Source of all things is cathedral/anathema. Feared/ revered by all D’Naali. Feared/revered by all Nyazen. But Nyazen wish exclusion. Desire/require cathedral/ anathema for Nyazen only. This exclusion D’Naali cannot countenance/abide.”
“Does anybodyin the Gamma Quadrant know how to share?” Ezri said with a smile fit for the gallows.
Before Vaughn could respond, the medical bay’s door slid open and Nog bounded into the room, his excitement palpable.
“Lieutenant?” Vaughn said.
“Sorry, sir. I hope I’m not interrupting anything critical.”
“Never mind that. What’s on your mind?”
Nog grinned. “I think I’ve finally found a way to get us around the Nyazen blockade.”
Cutting off Vaughn’s response, Sacagawea suddenly turned toward Nog. “Touched by the cathedral/anathema is thisone as well. Worldlines as misaligned as the others.”
Vaughn felt a serpent of apprehension beginning to turn in his gut. This creature had somehow identified everyone affected by the artifact, apparently by sight alone. “Nog,” Vaughn said, “when you interviewed Sacagawea about the artifact earlier, did you tell him who had been aboard the Saganduring the survey mission?”
“Not exactly, sir,” Nog said, looking embarrassed. “I mean, I did tell him that Iwas aboard, and that I wasn’t alone. But I didn’t tell him who was with me specifically.”
“And what did he tell you?” Vaughn said.
“Not much that made sense. Mainly that everyone who was ‘afflicted’ had to go aboard the artifact together.”
Vaughn turned his attention back to Sacagawea. “What do you mean by ‘misaligned worldlines’?” He noticed that Shar had opened up a tricorder and was waving it in the direction of Ezri and Julian.
“Misaligned,” Sacagawea said with what Vaughn thought sounded like a tinge of impatience. “Untethered. Adrift/lost midworlds. Is clear enough/sufficient, I judge.”
Taking a step backward toward Shar and Nog, Vaughn shook his head in frustration. The alien’s explanations were still about as clear as the Coal Sack Nebula.
Shar quickly scanned Nog, then shut the device down. “I think I understand at least part of what our guest is trying to tell us, Captain,” he said. “Those peculiar quantum resonance patterns that each member of the shuttle crew is exhibiting seem to be growing steadily more extreme hour by hour.”
Vaughn wasn’t sure, but he thought he liked Sacagawea’s explanation better. It, at least, had been somewhat poetic. “Explain.”
Shar adopted a polite, not quite pedantic lecture-hall tone. “When a person’s quantum resonance patterns drift far enough from normal, that person can become incompatible with the quantum signature of our universe. Imagine becoming ‘unmoored’ from our universe because of a quantum-level conflict. You would be hurled randomly into some alternate world.”
Vaughn recalled some of the mission files he had read during his brief time aboard the Enterpriseshortly before coming to DS9. About six years ago, a member of Jean-Luc Picard’s crew had experienced something quite similar.