Vaughn smiled back at Bashir. From Vaughn’s perspective, the doctor was a mere pup. Vaughn knew that in his century-long life, he’d very likely forgotten more than even a genetically enhanced thirty-five-year-old could have learned. But Vaughn was often impressed by how painstakingly empirical Bashir could be in the pursuit of knowledge. And he was occasionally amused by the young doctor’s apparent obliviousness to all matters mystical. He recalled the Orb experience that had led to his taking command of this ship—and to this mission. Yes, mortal beings had built the alien artifact; this was not the work of enigmatic gods or supernatural spirits.
But knowing those facts made the thing no less wonderful or awe-inspiring to Vaughn.
Aloud, he said, “That alien text file has got to be the key to discovering the artifact’s origin and purpose.” He fixed his gaze on the Defiant’s security chief. “Mr. Bowers? Lieutenant Nog placed the text file in your care. Please give us a report.”
Bowers touched a control on his padd, and the holographic image of the alien artifact was replaced by scrolling lines of swooping, unreadable characters. “For starters,” Bowers said, “the file is huge.More than eighty megaquads, which is about a third of our computer core’s overall storage capacity.”
“That fact alone is going to put a real strain on our number-crunching—or, in this case, text-crunching—resources,” said Cassini.
“It’s too bad we have to tie up so much of the computer core,” Tenmei said, “with a document we can’t even read.”
“You mean we can’t read it yet,”T’rb said, apparently very sure of his abilities. “Cassini and I have already started running a cross-comparison between this text and samples of written language groups we’ve downloaded from adjacent sectors of Gamma Quadrant space.”
Cassini sounded equally confident. “It might take a while, but if we’ve ever flown anywhere near the Gamma Quadrant’s equivalent of the Rosetta stone, we’ll crack this thing. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Perhaps then we’ll also be able to converse with Dr. Bashir’s new patients,” Vaughn said.
Bowers leaned back wearily in his chair. “That would be a relief, sir. It’s damned difficult to work out repair schedules and visits to the aliens in the medical bay when all you have is the one or two concepts the universal translator can recognize. Everything else comes down to hand gestures and interpretive dance.”
“We can’t assume that the language the Kuka—that the aliens speak,” Bashir said, “is in any way related to the ancient text.”
It’s not like Julian to stammer like that,Vaughn thought, scowling. Glancing at Ezri, he thought he noticed something different about her as well. She seemed to be getting rather pale. And was one of her eyelids beginning to droop?
Stroking his neatly trimmed beard, Vaughn said to Bashir, “I want to know more about this interdimensional wake the Saganencountered near the artifact. Specifically: Could it have had any harmful effect on the shuttle’s crew?”
Bashir paused for a moment before answering. “It’s possible, sir. But I’ll need to run some tests before I can say for certain.”
“I haverun some tests,” said Tenmei. Vaughn and Bashir both favored her with a blank look. “On the Saganitself, I mean. The Saganis in close to optimal condition. Except for a peculiar quantum resonance pattern, that is.”
“Meaning what?” Vaughn said.
Tenmei shook her head and shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
Vaughn abruptly put aside every reverent thought he’d had about the alien artifact thus far. He didn’t like the direction this was taking one bit.
Vaughn looked at Ezri again. This time he had no doubt—she was indeed looking pale. Why hadn’t Julian noticed? “Lieutenant, how long have you been feeling ill?”
Ezri sighed wearily, evidently deciding it was best to come clean. “It happened…I think it started during the flight back from the alien artifact.”
“I see.” Vaughn was fully aware that this fact might or might not be significant. Shifting his gaze to Bashir, he said, “Has anyone else from the Sagan’s crew experienced any symptoms?”
The doctor suddenly looked uncomfortable, as though he wanted to be parsecs from the mess hall. He appeared to be groping for words.
That wasn’t like him at all.
“Doctor?”
“I…believe I may have experienced a lapse in concentration while tending to our alien patients,” he said finally. “I’m not at all certain what to make of it. If anything.”
Vaughn felt his cheeks flush with anger. He glared first at Bashir, then at Ezri. “And you were both planning on reporting these difficulties exactly when?”
Bashir stiffened at that. “With respect, sir, at the time neither of us was aware that there wasa problem. I’m still not entirely convinced there is one now.”
Vaughn moved his hand through the air as though to wave the question of timeliness away. “All right. But what about Nog? How has he been feeling?”
“I’ll contact him,” Bashir said. “He’s still making repairs to the alien vessel.”
At that moment, Dax cried out and collapsed across the conference table, clutching her belly and screaming in pain.
Ignoring the pain raging in his leg, Nog watched as the alien EPS conduits finally lit up in the correct sequence. Power had begun flowing into the proper channels. And, more importantly, nothing had exploded.
Permenter heaved a theatrical sigh of relief, then displayed an I-told-you-it-was-going-to-workgrin to the still sheepish-looking Senkowski. Even Shar wore a triumphant smile, which Nog knew was a carefully constructed affectation on the Andorian’s part, for the benefit of the humans around him. Even the alien engineer looked pleased, his chitinous mandibles moving from side to side to display what might have been happiness or gratitude.
“Release the magnetic bottles now, Shar,” Nog said. After Shar touched the appropriate controls, Nog could feel the rumble in the deckplates that signaled the resumption of a controlled matter-antimatter reaction. Now that warp power was partially restored, the rest of the repairs would go forward much more easily. Force fields could be erected strategically throughout the ship, buttressing the collapsed sections and reinforcing the crude patching that had already been applied to some of the exterior hull breaches.
But I won’t have to supervise the rest of it directly,Nog thought, now eager to get to the Defiant’s medical bay so that Dr. Bashir could examine his leg.
The deckplates continued throbbing, with increasing intensity.
The throbbing sensation moved up from the deckplates and into Nog’s left leg, which suddenly felt as though it had been thrust directly into an unshielded antimatter pile. Nog screamed and watched the bulkheads trade places in slow motion. Deck became wall. Bulkhead became ceiling. His back pressed up—or down?—against something cold and unyielding.
He looked up, straight into the impenetrable eyes of the alien engineer. Beside the alien stood Shar, his image pulled and twisted as by a crazily warped mirror.
“Defiant,emergency beam-out!” he heard Shar shout as darkness engulfed him.
7
Two weeks,RO thought as she leaned back in the chair behind the security office desk. Unbidden, a muscle in her upper back began rhythmically clenching and unclenching itself. Rolling her shoulders to work out the kink, she tossed the padd containing the incident report—the unfinishedincident report—onto the desk.