As if she's disappeared . . .
Bashir slowly shook his head, already beginning to realize the truth of what had happened to her. Of what she had set out to do.
"Commander—" He straightened his arms against the bench's edge, pushing himself back from the computer panel. "Are we presently capable of getting any signals to and from Bajor?"
"We've managed to establish a comm link. It's weak and erratic, but we can get through. Why do you ask?"
He rubbed his forehead, as though the ball of his thumb could erase from his eyes the words—Dax's words—that had shown on the computer screen. "I suggest, Commander, that you redirect the tracer you have out for Dax and her comm badge. If you use as narrow a beam as possible and increase the range, there's a good chance you'll find her. Down there, on Bajor. In the city of Moagitty, to be precise."
There was no need to wait however many minutes it would take for Sisko to get back to him, to confirm what the narrowed and pinpointed tracer had found. He reached out and switched off the computer panel.
"What's all this about?" He heard Odo speak from behind him.
"We'd better get back to Ops—I'll explain there." Bashir shook his head. His gaze moved from the blank computer screen to the burnt-out remains of the CI module. "He came out here and got her," he murmured. "Just like that . . . McHogue did . . ."
"What are you talking about?"
He didn't turn around. He knew, from deep inside hirnself, what had happened, though he couldn't be sure how it had. How that other world had become even more real than the coolly rational Dax could ever have anticipated. Real enough to step into, as her research notes had indicated was her plan . . .
And too real to step back from.
CHAPTER 16
A delayed memorandum had been routed to him; Sisko found the notifier tag on the screen of his computer when he stepped back in from Ops deck. It was from Dax; she had marked it both URGENT and CONFIDENTIAL.
The memo's tag continued to flash red on the computer panel. "Proceed with memorandum delivery." He leaned back in his chair, awaiting the answer to one more mystery.
No visual display accompanied the message. Dax's voice came from the computer's speaker module. Sisko frowned, hearing an odd note of tension running beneath the science officer's words.
"Benjamin—I'm routing this information to you personally, as you can best determine what use should be made of it. Given the speculative nature of what I'm about to tell you, I'm naturally hesitant to place it in the computer's research files for Dr. Bashir and the others. I may be in error concerning these matters—and I certainly hope I am—so until proof is at hand, one way or the other, I'll leave it to your decision as to whether anyone else should be brought in on this."
The recorded voice fell silent, as though Dax had taken a moment to collect and order her thoughts. Sisko swivelled his chair, bringing himself closer to the computer panel, the blank screen within reach of his fingertips.
"To state it very briefly," continued Dax's memo, "the situation regarding McHogue and his plans may be much worse than we had previously thought. It may, in fact, be worse than we can imagine. Up until this time, the research that Dr. Bashir and I have done on the nature of the CI technology has supported the conclusion that its negative effects are essentially limited, despite McHogue's rather grandiose claims. That is, the damage caused by the altered holosuites is upon their unfortunate users, manifested in severe psychological deterioration and consequent externalizing of violent and self-destructive impulses. Most of the effort that Dr. Bashir and I have expended has been directed toward determining possible preventative and therapeutic methodologies that could be used to reverse the harm that would be brought by McHogue's continuing deployment of the CI modules; naturally, other officers such as yourself and Security Chief Odo have sought means of containing the outwardly manifested criminal and political damage stemming from the inner, personal devastation. All of this is, of course, well known to you.
"However, Benjamin, I'm afraid that our responses to McHogue's operations have been misdirected. Some of McHogue's statements that were interpreted by us as symptomatic of megalomania, perhaps as a result of a psychopathological condition due to his own exposure to the effects of the CI modules, may in fact have a basis in reality."
Dax's words, released from the computer's data banks, prodded Sisko's memory. He had given a full report on his conversations with McHogue to the other officers, for whatever use it might have been in their investigations. The diagnosis of megalomania had largely been one of his own making; how much of that, he wondered now, had been cold, rational analysis on his part, and how much a deep visceral loathing of the entity that had sat smiling across from him, speaking of mad things?
The memorandum continued. "Concurrent to my joint research effort with Dr. Bashir, I gathered and analyzed on my own certain data that I felt it best to keep confidential at that time." On the surface, Dax's voice might have been describing an accumulation of dry, inconsequential statistics. "Even before the present atmospheric storms on Bajor and the ongoing spatial disturbances in our sector, there were indications of a deeper underlying phenomenon taking place. Dating from the time at which it may be assumed that McHogue first placed the CI modules into operation, there is a growing body of evidence—navigational instrument deviations, subspace sensor readings, and the like—that a fundamental cosmological shift is taking place, with the city of Moagitty functioning as its epicenter. I didn't want to believe this, Benjamin, but the data allow for no other conclusion. Moagitty has become a black hole, but one unlike any we've ever encountered before. It is not an object of such colossal mass that light cannot escape its gravitational pull; instead, it appears to be creating a warpage of dimensional relationships beneath the universe in which we exist. An analogy, Benjamin: it's as if the cosmos that we normally perceive were reduced to a map spread out and fastened upon a table. Now that table—the subspace dimensions that maintain our universe—is being destroyed. Somehow, the operations of McHogue's CI modules are drawing subspace in upon itself and collapsing it, just as a gravitational black hole does with light radiation. That is what is causing the planetary storms and the spatial disturbances; the tension between the imploding table and the map above it is reaching catastrophic proportions. At the moment, that disturbance is limited to the sector surrounding DS9; however, the sensor readings thatI've been following already indicate a widening of the destructive phenomena. There's no reason to believe that the subspatial collapse will not spread beneath all possible space. This would be a cataclysm beyond our imaginings, Benjamin; an eclipsing of the galaxies themselves."
The words ceased for a moment, as if that which could be neither imagined or spoken had claimed her voice. In the silent office, Sisko heard his own shallow breath mingling with a whisper that could not be heard but only felt, the motion of the stars wheeling in their ancient courses. A hand had been laid upon both his heart and the nearest star, halting each between one fragment of time and the next. If there was to be a next one . . .
"I'm unsure as to the causal relationship between the operation of the CI modules and the subspatial collapse." The murmur of Dax's voice had resumed. "Further investigation would be required to establish the exact mechanism involved. Suffice it to say—that amount of time isn't available to us now. The consequences of McHogue's operations upon the surface of Bajor have reached a critical point. That's why I'm forwarding this memorandum to you, Benjamin. I don't think it will be long before you'll be aware of what I've set out to do. I just wanted you to know—and to understand—that I had my reasons."