CHAPTER 5
She caught him as he headed for Ops deck. Sisko felt his arm snared; his stride was broken for only a moment as Major Kira matched speed with him.
"Commander—" She had gotten some rest and regained her usual sharp edge, since the last time he had seen her. "I've received some transmissions from our contacts on Bajor, updating the political situation. There've been some developments, just in the time that I've been back here at the station."
"Oh? And what are they?" It required a mental effort to bring his thoughts around to Bajor and its seemingly endless power struggles. DS9's murder epidemic had absorbed all his mention for the last shift.
"Unfortunately, it's all in line with what I've previously reported. The Severalty Front has made some significant advances; they've acquired a highly effective spokesman, a General Aur."
"I seem to have heard the name before." His brow furrowed in concentration. "Who is he?"
Kira shrugged. "A hero of the Bajoran resistance . . . that's where the military title comes from, at least. Since the Cardassian occupation ended, though, he's been a constant thorn in the side of the provisional government. Certain amount of charisma, but not much of an ideologue. My own assessment would be that he can shift his positions to whatever will bring him the most power. So he can be pretty dangerous."
"Major, I have yet to meet a Bajoran that I wouldn't consider dangerous." They had arrived at the entrance to Ops; Sisko turned and gave her a mollifying smile. "Yourself included, of course." He rubbed the corner of his brow, as if pushing back the concerns accumulating behind the bone. "Keep me posted; if anything happens with this General Aur, we'll make containing the effects a top priority."
He walked away from her, knowing full well that there was more that she had wanted to tell him, and more that needed to be taken care of. There was always more.
Odo was waiting for him in his private office. The door slid shut, and the security chief's gaze followed Sisko as he sat down behind the desk. "How's the investigation going?" "We've made considerable progress," said Odo. "I've been able to extract a record from each of the holosuites that had been tampered with, establishing all of the recent users—"
"I'll consider that as being off the record, of course." He had never officially disapproved of Odo's skating just the other side of DS9's regulations. Such procedures were necessary and excusable, as long as they were carried out with discretion.
"Of course." Odo gave a quick nod. "My initial suspicions were borne out: all of the murderers and Ahrmant Wyoss were frequent users of the altered holosuites. The pattern of usage for each individual shows an escalating trend ranging over a period of months, from a few scattered visits separated by intervals of several shifts at the beginning, to several visits per shift lasting for hours at a time immediately preceding the violent episodes. At this time, I think it would be a justifiable assumption that there's a causal connection between the holosuites and what we've experienced on board the station."
"Looks that way. Let's go with that until we can prove otherwise. Anything else?"
"I believe Lieutenant Dax is continuing with her analysis of the modules that were found in the holosuites. She uploaded an initial report to me, concerning this so-called CI technology; I should be meeting with her later this shift or next. In the meantime, I have some leads to follow up on how the modules might have been smuggled aboard. If I can trace that down, we might be able to determine who's behind all this."
"Fine, Constable." Sisko reached out and switched on the computer panel; the first screenful of what he knew would be a dismayingly long procession came up on the screen. "Do it and get back to me." He looked up a few seconds later, when he realized that Odo was still sitting across the desk from him. "Is there something else?"
"Yes . . ." An odd hesitancy tinged Odo's voice. "There was something else I wanted to bring to your attention."
"Does it have to do with our epidemic?"
"Perhaps not; I can't be sure." Odo slowly shook his head. "It's a personal matter, I think. To do with you."
"Then I'm afraid I don't have time for it." He had a good lea what it might be; there was a continuous circuit of worry among the station's other officers about what his work pace was doing to his health. "Right now, I don't have a personal life."
"I believe it's important, Commander."
He sighed. "Everything's important. That's what I've learned since I took on this post. Sometimes . . . I think I've lost the ability to tell what's important and what's not." Sisko glanced at the computer panel, a brief surge of tiredness blurring the words in his sight. "Whatever it is, I promise you my full attention about it—just as soon as I can. In the meantime, we both have jobs to do."
"Very well, Commander." Odo rose from the chair. "Perhaps I'll have more facts at my disposal, when we speak again."
Someone else slipped into the office as Odo left. He was aware of the other's presence without even looking up. "Yes. what is it?" He could hear the impatience in his own words.
"An explanation, sir, if not exactly an apology . . ."
His gaze swung up to Dr. Bashir's face. "Is either one necessary?"
"I just wanted to reiterate, Commander, that the objections I made to the ongoing investigation were . . . well, based on principle."
"I never doubted that."
Bashir appeared even more uncomfortable. "And I wanted to assure you there'd be no interference coming from me in that regard."
"Oh? Have your principles changed, Doctor?"
"No—" Bashir quickly shook his head. "Of course not. But let's just say that my sense of diplomacy has."
Sisko leaned back in his chair, regarding the young officer standing on the other side of the desk. "No interference, you say? That is, of course, an improvement. And what if I were to order you to assist Science Officer Dax in her work related to the investigation?"
Bashir managed a weak smile. "I think my principles could accommodate that as well, sir."
"Fine. Explanation, or whatever you wish to call it, accepted, Doctor." He swivelled his chair to face the computer panel. "Those are your orders, then. I imagine Dax might welcome the help."
He heard the door slide open, then shut again. The office's silence, now that he was alone, was almost soothing to him.
There were things he needed to tell the commander—things about the altered holosuites, and what he had found there—but they would have to wait. Other jobs had to be done first.
Odo leaned across the table. "Are you ready to talk to me now?"
Across from him, a thick-necked freight handler sat with a sullen expression, arms folded across sweat-darkened coveralls. The man's jowls bristled with coarse stubble. "I got nothin' to talk to you about."
Through the windows of the unused manifest office that Odo had taken over, he could watch the ponderous activities on the main pylon's cargo ramp. Cantilevered gantries swung over the bay of a Proximian freighter, the articulated crane arms lifting out the battered transport containers, each dwarfing the small humanoid figures below. From farther in the dock's recesses, sparks from plasma torches sizzled through the flooring's open grates, as meter-wide chain links were cut apart. Odo turned his gaze away from the familiar sights, and back to the individual he had collared for questioning.
"Let's not play these games with each other. You have information I require, and eventually you will tell it to me. Why waste your time and mine by pretending to be obtuse?"
The freight handler had eyes that looked like razor nicks drawn in unbaked dough. "Haven't a clue, what you're goin' at me for."