Vaughn matched the smile. “They seemed in need of a little…demonstration of our sincerity, Doctor. But remember: we never actually scored a hit. The balance of forces between the Nyazen and the D’Naali remains intact. And we recovered you and the rest of the away team.”
Bashir found he couldn’t fault Vaughn’s reasoning, and some subtle shift in the commander’s demeanor told him it might not be such a good idea to try. Instead, he merely nodded and glanced in Nog’s direction; he noticed that Nog, too, had been listening with interest—and seemed eager to make his own contribution to the discussion.
Vaughn had evidently noticed the same thing. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
Looking down at his inanimate leg, Nog said, “Sir, there’s still one main question about the, um, cathedral that nobody’s been able to answer yet—even with the translation of the alien text.”
“And that is?”
“What’s it for?”Nog said, an overtone of pain in his voice.
Bowers spoke up, his arms folded as he leaned against the bulkhead beside the tactical station. “The text gave us a pretty fair idea of why the thing’s builders made it. They wanted to tap into unlimited power, but they couldn’t control it, and they lost their homeworld because of it.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Nog said, shaking his head. “What I want to know is…what is the thing now?What exactly has it becomeduring the half-billion years since it was built? And why?”
Ezri bit her lip, evidently considering Nog’s questions carefully before attempting to answer them. “For starters, whatever intelligence still drives the thing is strongly telepathic. And it appeared to use issues and problems each of us was already struggling with as the tether connecting us to our alternate selves in those other universes.”
Shar chose that moment to break his silence. "As far as the ‘why’ part of the question goes, I’d attribute a lot of it to the phenomenon of emergent properties. Because of its original function as an interdimensional energy tap, the object has always connected with and searched through many parallel universes and alternate dimensions. Therefore its ability to allow people to address alternate versions of themselves may be purely accidental—an emergent outgrowth of its original purpose, abetted by the object’s built-in multidimensional physical topography."
Bowers flashed Shar a that’s-sure-easy-for-you-to-saylook before responding. “You’re saying you think that thing’s just…an accident?”
“Precisely. Just as the universe itself may be.”
Looking at Shar, Vaughn nodded sagely. “That makes perfect sense, Ensign. Still, the existence of a miraculous cathedral could be interpreted to imply the existence of a miraculous cathedral builder. And, by extension, some sort of Grand Plan. Those with great faith rarely believe that anything happens entirely by accident.” Bashir saw the commander turn his expectant gaze upon him, as though anticipating a debate.
But once again, he merely nodded. Prior to his own experiences inside the object—no, the cathedral—Bashir would have been inclined to dismiss its mystical ramifications out of hand.
Now he wasn’t quite so certain.
Tenmei finally transferred her attention from her console and spoke to the room. “I’m hearing the word ‘cathedral’ bandied about so often here that I’m beginning to think some of you have developed genuine…religious feelings toward this artifact.”
“Would that be such a terrible thing?” Vaughn said, a vaguely paternal smile playing on his lips.
“Not necessarily. Look, I don’t mean to criticize anybody’s private beliefs, but isn’t it just possible that everyone’s subjective experiences inside that thing were just…manifestations of the subconscious, like dreams?”
“I certainly hope so,” Ezri said almost inaudibly. Bashir wanted to ask her what she meant, but the bridge seemed the wrong place to pry into the matter.
“What little we know about the away team’s experiences does bear some resemblance,” Shar said, “to the neurologically created ‘ghosts’ that some people report seeing during so-called near-death experiences. These ‘cathedral experiences,’ so to speak, may merely have been subconscious surrogates for whatever objective process severed each person’s ties to the other alternate quantum dimensions.”
Bashir was surprised at how ambivalent he felt about that. Ezri said nothing, but looked doubtful.
Vaughn resumed staring directly into the infinite, as rendered on the viewer. “Perhaps we’ll never understand the extent of the object’s capabilities. Rather like the riddle of existence itself.”
Hence the need for faith,Bashir thought, mildly surprised to find himself so sanguine about the notion. At least on certain occasions.
Aloud, he said, “There was a time when my inquiries into imponderables like this would have been limited solely to the cold equations of science. But ever since the cathedral brought me face to face with…my self,I have to wonder whether those equations, by themselves, can ever be sufficient again.”
“Maybe there’s more to the universe than that,” Vaughn said, nodding. “More than we can see or measure.”
The entire bridge crew subsided into a thoughtful silence, with the exception of Shar, who was wordlessly keying something into a padd.
Bashir smiled as he watched the science officer work. No mystical experience, it seemed, could ever entirely displace those comforting, cold equations. But it was nice to have more than one thing to believe in.
From his seat at the bridge’s main science station, Shar watched and listened, semidetached from his friends and colleagues as they debated the purpose behind the alien artifact—as though its havinga purpose were some immutable, foreordained law of nature.
Why is it that most humans can’t simply accept the universe as the cold, uncaring place that it really is?
Still, he thought he was finally beginning to understand the human religious impulse, at least on a certain visceral, reflexive level. How tempting it must be to believe that the artifact is some sort of divinely created holy object. Based on what the away team had reported so far, it might even conceivably provide a gateway into some parallel universe in which Thriss still lived. A place in which he and his bondmates would all survive, ameliorating Andor’s bleak future by contributing that most precious of all gifts—a child.
A child who will now never come to be.
Eager for the solace of work, Shar reached for a padd, keying in commands with fingers stained indigo with blood not his own.
28
“Everything’s going smoothly,” Ro said under her breath.
“So far,” Kira responded. “Let’s hope we’ve already seen the last of today’s surprises.”
Ro nodded and scanned the crowds once again. The grand meeting hall adjacent to the Promenade had been transformed into a sumptuous gallery of Bajoran art and culture, including facsimiles of beautifully calligraphed musical scores drafted two centuries ago by the Bold-aric Masters, as well as those of the incomparable modern composer Tor Jolan; reproductions of the paintings and tapestries of Vedek Topeka, along with some of the graphic artworks of the late Tora Ziyal; and even a live flute-recorder performance by the renowned Bajoran musician Varani.
All the attendees were dressed in their finest regalia. Treir stood chatting with a middle-level male federation diplomat, who was clearly trying to negotiate something; sipping daintily at an outsize glass of something bubbly, the statuesque Orion woman managed to look beautiful as well as completely in charge of the encounter. With the addition of Taran’atar, who was keeping a low profile in a corner, the room even had its Gamma Quadrant delegate. Ro wondered briefly if Vaughn and the crew of the Defianthad made enough allies during their exploration mission so that future diplomatic events aboard the station would see even more Gamma Quadrant species represented.