Sisko made no reply. The sensation of everything around him being essentially false had abated. He rubbed a finger against the desktop's surface. That seemed real enough—at least for the time being.
"What most people in this kind of situation worry about," continued McHogue, "is whether they might be caught up in some sort of self-perpetuating hallucination, a completely enfolding loop of artificially generated realities."
"The thought had crossed my mind." Sisko kept his voice level, as though he were talking about nothing more ominous than the bills of lading on the main pylon. "For all I know, I'm not sitting in my private office at all. Perhaps I'm still in the holosuite with you and all the rest of the CI module's effects inside my brain, and I've been fooled into thinking that the experience is over."
"A common fear, Commander, but a fallacious one." McHogue shook his head. "That's one of the oldest philosophical chestnuts about the holosuite technology in general—it goes back a long way. You can relax; in actual practice, rather than mere theory, it's simply impossible. An infinite regress of that nature, hallucinations inside hallucinations, is rather like trying to multiply by zero in ordinary mathematics. Think about it, Commander: to achieve an infinitely self-perpetuating hallucination would require a time-dilation effect equal to infinity itself. Yet the holosuite that you stepped into can, of necessity, be no more than a subset of infinity. There are real-world limits to what you can pull off along those lines; to even attempt it immediately raises the holosuite's drain upon its outside power sources on an exponential level. The whole thing 'grounds out,' as it were, and you're immediately dumped back out into reality. This reality, Commander."
"I suppose I'll have to accept your reasoning. . . ."
"You don't have a lot of alternatives." McHogue leaned back from the desk. "If you're having trouble believing that all this is really happening—that you're sitting in your office having this meeting with us—it's going to make our discussions very difficult. The little spiel I just gave you doesn't come simply from kindheartedness on my part, Commander—I dislike negotiating with someone who doubts my existence, even as I'm sitting face-to-face with them."
"Very well." The black-clad figure's smug delivery had a restorative effect on Sisko; his growing irritation at the lecture had burned away the last residual doubts. When he had first encountered McHogue, in the holosuite's perpetual summer landscape, the desire to get his hands around the man's throat had been irresistible. A vestige of that impulse flared up inside him now. That would be one way, he thought grimly, of finding out what's real. He pushed the notion away; as of now, he had to treat this person as an official representative of the Bajoran government. "How's this: I'll just deal with what I see right now, and I'll reserve my judgment until later as to whether it's real or not."
He turned toward the other person in the room, before McHogue could reply. "General Aur—if you'd care to join us, perhaps we could get down to business."
The general took the other chair in front of the desk. "I trust you'll give our Minister of Trade your full cooperation, Commander." He indicated McHogue with a brief nod. "One of our new government's first acts was to make an official exemption to the requirement that all top-level ministers be Bajoran natives. Mr. McHogue brings some unique qualifications to the position, that we felt made him the perfect choice."
"I can well imagine."
"So in the future, I expect all your dealings with our government will be through him. He has our complete trust and authority. I came along on this trip just to assure you of that."
"Really?" Sisko reached over and turned the screen of his computer panel toward Aur. "I could show you some very interesting things about your new minister. Little details of his past career—"
"We know all about that, Commander." The general patted McHogue's arm. "Let's just say he has a colorful background."
"That's putting it mildly." Sisko ignored the Minister of Trade's smile. "There's about a dozen recent murders aboard Deep Space Nine that can be linked to some involvement on his part."
Aur shrugged. "Regrettable, but . . . perhaps necessary. For the future of Bajor. I'm just sorry they happened on your watch, Commander."
The last comment was enough of a needle to penetrate Sisko's facade of politeness. He turned toward McHogue. "So what exactly are we going to talk about, then?"
McHogue's smile vanished. "I've made a better offer to the Bajoran government. Better than the one that was made by you and the Federation. Let's face it: Bajor may not have much, but it has one thing that's of incredible value. And the Federation's offered the Bajorans not much more than zero for it.
"The wormhole, of course." McHogue pointed to the viewports. "It's a shame that it's not visible all the time, rather than just when a ship passes through it. If it were, you might be a little more mindful of why you're here."
"I know very well why I'm here." Sisko let his voice grate even more harshly. "And why Starfleet is here."
"Oh, yes; of course." McHogue glanced over at General Aur, raised his eyebrows, then came back to Sisko. "Are you going to give us that old song-and-dance about developing Bajor into a major locus for interstellar commerce and research?"
"It's hardly a song-and-dance. The wormhole is the doorway to the entire Gamma Quadrant—"
"Exactly. And that's why the Federation has kept you and your crew here to sit on it. Doesn't it seem a little odd to you that it's already been established that the wormhole is Bajoran property, yet somehow Bajor doesn't control access to it?"
"That objection has been heard here before." He could feel his spine stiffening. "And as I made clear to representatives of the previous government, Bajor is simply not ready to take over the administration of this station. When that time comes—"
General Aur interrupted angrily. "The previous government was composed of traitors and spineless compromisers. That's why the Bajoran people rose up and got rid of them. The so-called representatives you met with before were slaves to the colonial mentality that served the interests of the Cardassians for so long—and now the Federation would like to exploit us the same way." He gripped the arms of the chair thrusting his scarred face forward. "You're not dealing with those people anymore, Commander; you're dealing with true Bajorans now."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen; let's take it down a level, why don't we?" McHogue smiled and spread his hands apart. "There's no need to get overly upset about these things. It's been my experience over the years that all politics, when you boil them down, are essentially business matters. And business is always something that's best conducted with a certain measure of . . . cold-bloodedness." The smile grew broader. "And then we can all shake hands and be friends afterward."
"That's not likely to happen." Sisko returned his gaze to General Aur. "What is this 'better offer' that this person has made to you?"