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.

“Are the shuttle personnel showing any signs of…‘unmooring’ anytime soon?”

Shar sighed, obviously frustrated by his paucity of hard information. “Not that I can tell. But as the effect progresses, who knows?”

Vaughn glanced briefly at Nog, who was shifting his weight anxiously from his old foot to his new one. He was clearly not enjoying the discussion, and seemed to be avoiding looking directly at either Ezri or Bashir.

Vaughn turned back to Shar. “Maybe those quantum signature readings show that something else is going on. Instead of being sent to some parallel world, maybe everyone affected is gradually transforming into some alternate self. For instance, a Julian Bashir whose genes were never resequenced.” To Nog he said, “Like the one from the alternate universe that your father and uncle visited last year.”

Ezri was nodding. “Or an Ezri Tigan who never joined with Dax.”

“Or a Nog who listened to his uncle and went to business school instead of Starfleet Academy,” Nog said, regarding his left leg with a wistful expression.

Shar pursed his lips as he considered the idea. “I’ll grant that it’s possible. But given the increasing flux in the quantum resonance readings, I can’t rule out any sudden, permanent disappearances.”

Vaughn sighed. “Lovely.” Approaching Sacagawea again, he said, “How do we…realign these ‘worldlines’?”

“Ingress to the cathedral/anathema,” Sacagawea said. “Only inside may the four afflicted ones be resolved/restored. Only the four may enter. Others will be misaligned, ending badly.”

Four?

“Hold it,” Nog said, obviously having noticed the same discrepancy that had caught Vaughn’s attention. “There were only threepeople aboard the Sagan.”

Vaughn saw that Ezri was quietly shaking her head. She raised her hand and pointed across the room toward a gurney. On the gurney, the Dax symbiont’s nutrient tank sat, evidently in preparation for a medical examination.

Four afflicted ones,Vaughn thought, understanding.

“Oh,” Nog said.

“The four afflicted ones need/require ingress to cathedral/anathema,” Sacagawea said. “While time persists/endures/lasts.”

“Before it’s too late,” Vaughn whispered. Though he had nothing to go on other than the D’Naali’s words and his own growing conviction, he felt more certain than ever that the key to everything lay somewhere within the artifact’s enigmatic depths.

It’s either there or nowhere.

“Okay,” Ezri said. “Now we just have to get around that blockade.”

“Option nonexistent,” Sacagawea agreed, “to battle/ weapons discharge.”

He’s saying we have no alternative other than to fight.Vaughn was beginning to feel boxed in by circumstances. But he remained determined. A viable win-win scenario had to exist. He simply hadn’t found it yet.

“Fighting’s not our best option,” he said at length. “Not with so many Nyazen tubes aimed right down our throats.”

“Even if we couldfight our way through the blockade,” Ezri said, “what right would we have to do it? The Nyazen seem to be claiming the artifact, and they’ve already, ah, asked us to leave in no uncertain terms.”

“That’s not precisely how I see it, Lieutenant,” Vaughn said, gently brushing her objection aside. “The jurisdictional issues seem to be in dispute here, at least from the D’Naali perspective. And since both the D’Naali and the Nyazen are spacefaring species, the Prime Directive doesn’t apply.”

Which means it falls to me to cut the Gordian knot.

“So what are you going to do?” Ezri said.