Star Trek - DS9 - Warped

by Неизвестный

  "Perhaps you could regain your equanimity while sitting in one of the security office's holding cells." Odo drew his hand back from the Ferengi's chest.

  "On what charge?"

  "Disturbing the peace. Your premises are, after all, part of this station and thus under my authority as well."

  "Hmph." Quark straightened the lapels of his jacket. "Just the sort of reaction I expected from an alleged public servant. For this I pay my lease and license fees." He stowed the box of glass fragments under the bar. "I don't suppose the problems of a relatively honest man trying to make a living around will be very high on the agenda of this big meeting you're having with Commander Sisko."

  "What do you know about that?"

  Quark looked smug as he stood back up. "Oh, one hears things." He rolled the baseball around with one finger. "Talk travels fast, you know."

  "Especially when one pays to have it come this way." It was a constant annoyance to Odo, that a Ferengi innkeeper would have an information source on the station's Ops deck.

  "Well . . ." Quark shrugged. "Nobody would tell me these things otherwise."

  Odo turned away, watching the flow of traffic on the Promenade. "I think you can rest assured that we won't be dealing with your petty concerns."

  "Just talking about McHogue, huh?"

  He glanced back at the Ferengi. "Why would we discuss him?"

  "Come on. What else is there? Everybody knows he's been made the new Bajoran Minister of Trade. Quite an interesting development."

  Odo kept his voice casual. "What else do people know?"

  "You mean, what else do I know. I'd be more inclined to tell you, if your attitude was a little more helpful and a lot less hostile." Quark picked up the baseball and contemplated it in his hand. "My old partner actually found time to come by here and have a chat with me." His brows creased for a moment. "If it really was McHogue; I'm still not sure . . . "

  "I'm sure enough." Odo leaned in close to Quark's face. "Tell me what McHogue wanted with you, and we'll discuss the price of the information afterward."

  "Normally, I don't do business except cash up front—" Quark emitted a panicked squeak as Odo reached for his collar. With his back against the bar's racks of bottles, he smiled with nervous ingratiation. "But in this case, I'll make an exception. McHogue made me a job offer. That's all."

  Odo eyed him suspiciously. "What sort of job offer?"

  "He wanted me to manage the concessions for alcohol and, ah, stronger intoxicants in the new city that's going to be built on Bajor. Where all the casinos and pleasure emporia are going to be located. McHogue said he wanted someone with kind of experience in charge; he'd observed how I run my place here aboard DS9, and he thought I could do as good a job down there, on a much larger scale. Naturally, I had to agree with him."

  "So you're taking this job of his?" Odo had mixed feelings about the prospect. As much as he despised the Ferengi, he had also gotten him to the point of being a semireliable informant.

  "Of course not." Quark indignantly drew himself up. "I've worked a long time to establish myself as my own boss. I take a great deal of personal pride in my humble enterprise, thank you. As far as I'm concerned, I'd rather empty my customers' pockets my own way and be able to sleep at night than get rich working for someone else. Or some thing." Quark shook his head in puzzlement. "You know, he says he's my old business partner McHogue . . ."

  "A whole new city . . ." Odo mulled over the new informa­tion. That kind of operation would require a significant amount of capital—more than the Bajorans would be able to provide. Which indicated that the Cardassians' involvement in McHogue's schemes extended beyond their connection to the CI modules. "Interesting."

  "That's what I thought."

  Odo pushed himself away from the bar. "Perhaps Com­mander Sisko and the others at the meeting will have something to add to it—"

  "Hey, wait a minute—you owe me one now!"

  He raised an eyebrow as he regarded the Ferengi. "Really? I thought that perhaps you had merely decided to perform your duty as one of DS9's good citizens."

  "Come on," pleaded Quark. "Fair's fair."

  "That's an extraordinary thing for you to say. All right, then." Odo turned back toward the bar. "What is it?"

  "This." Quark held up the baseball. "I want to know slung this dangerous projectile into my peaceful establishment."

  "Surely you already have a good idea who's responsible."

  "Yes, but I want proof." Quark did his best to look self-righteous. "Unlike some people here, I don't go around making baseless accusations."

  "Very well. I'll see what I can do." Odo reached for the ball.

  "Uh-uh." The Ferengi drew the stitched spheroid back against his chest. "I'll hang on to the evidence, if you don't mind."

  "As you wish. But, as I believe is commonly said in your circles—don't hold your breath." Odo turned and headed for the door.

  He looked around at the faces assembled in the office. As they had been before, and not too long ago, either—despite all their efforts, the situation in which they found themselves had gotten worse rather than better.

  "There's one thing in our favor," said Commander Sisko. "Our attention is no longer divided. The political crisis on Bajor has dovetailed with our investigation into the murder epidemic here aboard the station. The same individuals were responsible for both." He managed to produce a thin smile. "Now all we have to do is find a single solution, rather than two different ones."

  "For what it's worth, Commander—" Chief of Operations O'Brien shifted in the chair at one end of the semicircle. "We wouldn't have had to worry about the problem with the murders any longer. Once we had their source pinpointed to the altered holosuites and their effects, it was mainly a technical problem after that. Wasn't too hard to design a retrofit circuit that could be installed in-line on all the station's holosuites; the circuit can identify any form of the CI technology and immediately reject it. Sort of like an immune system identifying a contagion factor and immediately eliminating it. Plus there's an autodestruct function built in; anybody tries to pull the retrofit circuit, there'll be a power surge that'll blow out every filament and microdevice in the suite. That alone would set off an alarm right here in Ops." O'Brien sounded justifiably proud of his handiwork. "I've got my engineering crew building and installing the retrofits as fast as they can. The question is, do you want us to shut down the one holosuite that we left the CI module running in, and fix it up as well?"

  "I think we should leave that one as is, for the time being." Sisko glanced toward the security chief. "Constable, is that holosuite still under security lockdown?"

  Odo nodded. "Per your orders."

  "Maintain that status on it. Now that McHogue's used DS9 as a cage full of guinea pigs, and he's presumably satisfied that the CI technology works to his satisfaction, he'll be shifting all his activities to Bajor. As long as we have that one altered holosuite, though, we still have a window into how his mind works—there might still be something of value to be gotten from that."

  "McHogue's plans for Bajor seem to be already in motion."

  Odo glanced at a few notes on his data padd. "Before I arrived at this meeting, I had a discussion with Quark down on the Promenade. It seems that there's going to be an entire new city built on the planet, just for McHogue's operations."

  "Hm." Sisko swivelled his chair toward Odo. "Your analysis, Constable?"

  "I would venture that there's a high degree of probability for this particular datum. Not so much due to the source from which I received it, but simply because it would be the most advantageous setup for McHogue. There's really no city on the planet's surface, other than the capital, that would be large enough for the enterprise that McHogue is apparently contemplating. And using the capital would have too many political drawbacks for General Aur and the rest of the new government. There are large segments of the Bajoran population with deeply rooted puritanical tendencies; they might be willing to endure this
newfound wealth coming from an enterprise that would otherwise offend them, but not if it was taking place right in front of their eyes. If any of the religious factions pulled out of the Severalty Front's coalition, it could topple the government."

  Sisko nodded as he followed the security chief's argument. Odo was doing as good a job as possible, filling the gap created by Kira's absence from the meeting. If she had been here—and brought back onto full duty—he would have had that much more of an insight into the Bajoran situation.

  "Very well," said Sisko. "We'll have to operate as if it's true, then. Any further analysis?"

  "The kind of resources necessary would indicate a greater degree of Cardassian involvement than we had previously assumed."

  "With Gul Dukat in our navigational sector, that's almost a given." He swivelled toward Dax and Bashir, sitting immediately across from him. "Do you have any more data from your work on the CI modules?"

  "Everything we've discovered so far, Benjamin, just confirms our initial theories about the cortical-induction technology." Dax pointed to the computer panel on the desktop. "I uploaded a full report on our latest findings."

  "We were able to break down the CI modules' programming to its initial level," added Bashir. "Most of what we saw with Wyoss and the other subjects were the terminal stages of the process. Essentially, all the sequences have an extremely low addiction threshold, followed by a steeply ramped burn-through cycle. It's a classic pharmacological analogue, similar to inserting permanent stimulus molecules in the brain's opiate-receptor sites—except that the CI technology uses the neurosystem's own catecholamines, so the process is even more efficient. It would be virtually impossible to develop a pharmacological antagonist system to block it. And past a certain level, the chances of a successful therapeutic response would be minimal. Once they're introduced to the CI technology's effects, a high percentage of McHogue's custom­ers would wind up the same way Ahrmant Wyoss did."

  "It doesn't make sense." Sisko frowned and set his fist upon the desk. "McHogue is supposedly more familiar with the CI technology than anyone—or at least he claims to be. He knows that the fantasies evoked in the altered holosuites are deliberately addictive—and unsatisfying. The cortical induc­tion actually brings to the surface—or it even creates—desires that have to be acted upon. This isn't just business on his part: he's creating an environment that goes far beyond just draining his customers of their money. He's made the CI modules' effects even stronger than they were originally designed to be—to the point of lethality. Even as greedy an operator as our own Quark knows better: a successful business enterprise doesn't kill off its customers. It keeps them coming back for more—indefinitely." He clenched his fist tighter. "There must be something else that McHogue is trying to achieve. . . ."

  Odo shrugged. "Undoubtedly, there were some hazards in his research on the CI technology. The echo that you described encountering in the altered holosuite may be indication of his present mental state. Quite frankly, the possibility exists that McHogue may be insane."

  "No—" Sisko shook his head. "That's not enough to explain what's going on. Even if it were true, it doesn't account for the Cardassians' involvement. It's not likely that Gul Dukat is insane as well. Or at least not in the same way."

  "Given the data we have, Benjamin, there are no theories available to us." Dax glanced at the station's on either side of her. "The only option for us at this point is further investigation."

  "Of what? You've taken everything down to the end of it various blind alleys." Inside himself, Sisko could feel the frustration knotting his gut. "McHogue's plans are already under way—we don't have time to just wait for information to fall into our laps."

  "I'd like to make a suggestion, Commander." Odo leaned stiffly forward. "I believe you've been informed that a Cardassian diplomatic vessel has approached the outskirts of our sector, and that Gul Dukat himself is aboard—"

  "Of course." Sisko gave a quick nod. "Dukat was apparent­ly empowered by the Cardassian council to give immediate recognition to General Aur's new government after the coup."

  "Precisely. Gul Dukat is obviously the point man for whatever the Cardassians' intentions are for Bajor; thus, he is also McHogue's co-conspirator. I have long experience with Gul Dukat; under his administration of DS9, I served in the same position as I do now. So I can state with some authority that I know how his mind works. I don't have the same familiarity with McHogue, except as a criminal type that I've encountered many times before. Dukat is preternaturally suspicious of everyone, including his own allies and fellow Cardassians—that's a fundamental trait of their species. I would expect McHogue to be of the same psychological makeup. Their distrust of each other is the exact type of situation that we may be able to derive some advantage from—or at least some further information."

  "Isn't there some old police adage, Constable, about thieves falling out with each other?"

  "That's more literary than forensic, Commander, but it's true nevertheless."

  "The problem would be to find someone else, in whom Gul Dukat has at least a small measure of trust."

  "We can provide that easily enough." Odo laid a hand on his own chest. "That person is myself. Gul Dukat trusts me—because he underestimates me. He has the typical Cardassian arrogance that results in his assuming that all other sentient creatures are inferior to him. If anyone shows servility to him—as I had to, in order to survive under the Cardassians—he naturally regards that as his due."

  "Servile?" Beside him, O'Brien raised an eyebrow. "You?"

  "Let us just say that my shapeshifting ability is not the only means of disguise that I possess. It would have done me little good to reveal my true feelings to Dukat and the other Cardassians, if by doing so I wound up being jettisoned from one of the station's airlocks. As Dukat's chief of secur­ity, I had regular contact with Bajoran freedom fighters that were brought here for interrogation—and execution. So I was able to keep track of the Bajoran resistance move­ment. That enabled me to keep my mouth shut and bide my time."

  Sisko regarded him. "And you're sure that Gul Dukat never doubted your loyalty to him?"

  "Quite sure, Commander. As I said before, I know how his mind works."

  "Very well, Constable—a runabout will be prepared for your immediate use. I'll have the Ops communication staff act the Cardassian emissary vessel and tell them that you'll be arriving shortly."

  Dax spoke up. "On what pretext, Benjamin?"

  "Routine inspection. We'll say that with the change in the Bajoran government, we're concerned that certain parties might try to take advantage of the confusion to smuggle in Federation-prohibited contraband."

  "They'll refuse inspection—Dukat's vessel is under diplomatic immunity."

  "By that time, Odo will already be aboard." Sisko swivelled toward his security chief. "I'll leave it to you as to how you go about seeing your old friend Dukat." He pushed his chair back from the desk. "Dismissed, everyone. If there are any further developments, report them to me at once."

  Odo was the last to reach the office door. Sisko called to him.

  "Constable—"

  "Yes?" Odo stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

  "Be careful. I'd hate for you to find out that Dukat isn't as much of a fool as you thought he was."

  It was easy. Miraculously so—Gul Dukat sent for him.

  "Ah—there you are, Odo." The Cardassian turned around from the viewports in his private quarters. What passed for a polite smile appeared on his harshly angled face. "It's been so long. Hasn't it?"

  Not long enough, a voice spoke inside Odo's head. He was well versed in not letting any trace of his thoughts become apparent. "It's a pleasure to see you again, sir." The guards who had escorted him now stepped back.

  "Leave us." Dukat dismissed the guards with a snap of his hand. "We have a great many things to discuss."

  Behind him, Odo heard the door retract, a sharper metal-on-metal sound than its equivalent aboard the DS9
station. It closed again, and he knew he was alone with the Gul.

  "I hope my crew was at least reasonably courteous to you." Dukat sat down behind the angled projection that served as a desk. "If not, perhaps you'll excuse them. The younger officers aren't aware of the many services you once performed in our behalf. They naturally assume that anyone who works for Starfleet is their enemy. They're trained that way."

  Odo stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "I'd like to think, sir, that I have no enemies."

  "Oh?" The smile on Gul Dukat's face grew to a scale-edged slit. "What an . . . enlightened view to take."

  He made no reply. For a moment, the rush of memories overwhelmed his thoughts, the past evoked by being in Dukat's presence. That, and the sounds, both overt and subliminal, of the Cardassian vessel. As he had been led through the corridors, the clipped, barking tones of the Cardassian tongue had reminded him of the time when his daily orders had been delivered in those guttural words.

  "Sit down, Odo." The Gul gestured toward a chair. "May I offer you a refreshment of some sort?"

  "You know me better than that, sir." He sat stiffly, an extra tension locking his spine. "I require nothing."

  "Yes, of course." Dukat poured himself a measure from the squat flagon on the desk. He swirled and studied the glass's viscous contents. "I do know you, don't I? Well enough to realize that you're a fraud and a liar. Your whole visit here is a sham. Isn't it?"

  He was taken aback by the lash of the Gul's words. "I . . . I don't know what you mean. . . ."

  "Please, Odo. Don't try my patience. Did you really think I'd be taken in by this pathetic charade? I know that you're perfectly aware of interstellar protocol. You should be; the rules governing contact between sovereign entities was one of the matters you handled for me when I governed the Deep Space Nine station. Perhaps you thought I'd ascribe this error to memory lapse on your part?" Dukat took a sip from the small glass. "Asking to perform an inspection on a diplomatic vessel . . .” He shook his head in disgust. "Really, Odo. That's such an obvious breach of etiquette . . . so obvious that it makes me wonder. I have to consider the possibility that it was a deliberate mistake. And that you were just trying to devise some way of coming here and talking to me." After the next sip, the thin smile showed again. "Talking . . . just like old times."