by K. W. Jeter
"Commander, I found a healthy young boy." Bashir gazed level into his superior officer's eyes. "Physically and mentally. There's no sign of either the synaptic degeneration or obsessive thought-patterning that we saw with Ahrmant Wyoss and the others. The only indication of negative functioning on your son's part is the apparent frequency increase in use of the altered holosuites—and we only know about that because of the data that Odo was able to extract from the holosuites themselves."
"But, as you say, your diagnostic techniques here are limited." He didn't want to give himself hopes that could be cruelly shattered. "There may be more sophisticated tests that would reveal things that you weren't able to detect."
Bashir spread his hands apart. "There's always that possibility, Commander. At one of the sector medical facilities, Jake could be scanned right down to the subatomic level, if anyone thought that it would yield results of any significance. But to undertake such a course is a decision that you'd have to make on your own. You have to weigh the diminishingly small chance of finding something wrong—anything at all—with the risk of producing an iatrogenic condition from the testing procedures. There are diagnostic techniques beyond what I've done here, but they can be very long and arduous—and they'd involve sending Jake away from the station. And away from his primary source of emotional support—that's you, Commander. In the absence of any discernible harm that Jake may have suffered from his exposure to these cortical-induction modules, I believe that the greatest therapeutic value would be gained from his staying in contact with his father."
Discernible harm . . . The overly precise words, the technical language into which the chief medical officer so readily lapsed, echo inside Sisko's head. He closed his eyes, trying to sort out the jumble of thoughts he'd carried into this room, that the doctor's advice had failed to disperse. It was so hard to know what to do . . . what would be the best, or only, thing he could decide upon and carry through. The dark meditations that came over him at the end of shifts welled up now—he couldn't stop them—and, with the slow, aching grief that had become so familiar, reminded him how essentially alone he was. Even here, in this brightly lit room surrounded by the corridors and chambers of Deep Space Nine, filled with living intelligences, human and nonhuman alike. Without Jake's mother, his wife, the woman he had loved . . . For a moment, a dizzying near-hallucination swept across him, that the voice and presence of the man standing beside him had vanished into emptiness and silence. That they had all vanished, every voice and gaze; leaving him in the station's hollow shell, enclosed in cold, unfeeling metal and the uninhabited reaches of the stars beyond. Alone in truth, as he'd often felt himself to be.
He drew in a deep breath, as though willing Dr. Bashir back into existence. And the rest: he could sense them again, all the lives aboard the station, moving through the corridors and walkways like the blood of a larger organism. That life, and the smaller ones—DS9's life—those were his responsibility. As long as there were so many depending upon him, he could resist the temptations to which he might otherwise have yielded.
Against all that, however, could be weighed a single small life. His own son.
The doctor hadn't mentioned a third possibility, one that allowed Jake to leave DS9 and go to any Starfleet medical facility that could perform further tests upon him and still remain in contact with his father. . . .
As simple as that, Sisko knew. He would just have to go with the boy. Turn over his command of the station, abandon these duties for the sake of another one—who would if he did that? There were others—weren't there?—who could administer DS9 as well as he could; perhaps better. But Jake only had one father. One parent.
"Commander—" Bashir laid a hand upon Sisko's shoulder. "I know what you're thinking."
He turned his brooding face toward the doctor. "Do you really?"
"If you thought it best to leave the station, to do whatever you thought was necessary for your son's welfare, I'd be the last to advise you not to. But consider this, Commander: Deep Space Nine is Jake's home. As much as it is yours now. He's been taken away from so many places, he's lost so many things and people in his short life—do you think it's wise to do that to him once again?"
A brief spark of anger flared inside Sisko. What do you know about loss, Doctor?—someone so young and inexperienced in the realities of life. He supposed that was something that had been taught to Bashir in medical school: that omniscient, caring tone, words read off a page from some grief-counseling textbook. . . .
He fought the anger down, letting his hands uncurl from fists, his pulse slowing. In another few seconds, he realized, he might have ripped the doctor's head off—verbally, at least. And pointlessly so; everything Bashir said had been well intentioned. And, even more chastening, it was all very likely true. But still . . .
"You've forgotten something, Doctor." Sisko could hear his voice as though it were coming from someone else, a creature temporarily bereft of emotions. "I've seen evidence my son's condition, that doesn't show up in all your scannings and tests. In that holosuite . . . I saw my own death. I saw my murdered corpse lying on the ground."
"An illusion, Commander."
"Oh?" Anger flared again inside him. "An illusion that couldn't exist at all, unless it reflected something true thing in Jake. That was his world in which I was around, Doctor. The CI module found something inside my son, some part of him that wanted his father dead . . . and granted him that wish."
He fell silent, pulse swelling up at the corners of his brow. He had spoken, put into words that which had been inscribed on his heart since the moment he had seen his own emptied eyes gazing back up at him. And beyond, to the harsh sun that lit a small, endless world, turning every leaf's shadow to a knife's edge.
"Commander . . ." The other's voice pried at the door of his thoughts. "When you were a child . . . when you were Jake's age . . . did you ever wish your own father dead? Even just in a little flash of anger?"
He turned a fierce glare toward Bashir. A deep breath before speaking allowed him to regain a measure of self-control. "Many times, Doctor. Every child does."
"Exactly. And what kept you from ever trying to actually kill your father?"
"I thought better of it," Sisko said dryly. "For most of the time I was a child, my father was considerably bigger than I was."
"Any other reason?"
"Only that I knew—once I got over being stupid and angry—that I loved him very much."
"Just as most children do, Commander. They conquer the murderers inside themselves—as you and I, as we all did. " Bashir pointed toward the computer screen, as if the numbers and graphs it displayed might have resolved into a human face. "Just as your own son Jake has—in this world. The real one. But what you saw in the holosuite, Commander, wasn't done by Jake. The illusory murder was committed by something that once might have been a part of Jake, but is no longer. The CI module appears to work that way: it finds the weakest part of someone's soul, for lack of a more scientific term, removes it and isolates it, nourishes it in the absence of the rest of what a thinking and feeling person can be. It takes that small killer that's inside all of us, and lets it run wild. But you'd be making a terrible mistake if you thought you had seen something that is inside Jake." Bashir's voice lowered in pitch. "Consider this, Commander: I did a memory probe upon your son, and I found no trace of him having done anything to cause your perceived death inside the holosuite. Jake doesn't remember that because he didn't do it. That other thing, that McHogue took from inside your son's mind, that McHogue changed into something that was no longer your son—that was your murderer."
He made no reply to the younger man's words; for a moment, he was incapable of any. The weight upon his own soul eased a fraction, as if he had found a way to get his shoulders beneath it.
"Very well, Julian." He managed a faint smile. "In medical matters at least, I yield to your greater expertise." And more than that, he thought. The doctor's lecture had been a humbling experience. "I s
uppose that right now, there's a lot I need to talk to Jake about."
With his hands clasped at the small of his back, Bashir gazed up at the room's ceiling. "About some things, Comlander. But not everything; not what you found in there, inside the holosuite. You've had a glimpse into your son's heart—-or at least a small part of it. If your father had seen inside you—when you had been, as you said, stupid and angry—would you really have wanted him to talk to you about it?" Bashir slowly shook his head. "There are some things that are worth feeling ashamed about. That's another thing we all learn."
He knew that Bashir was right. And that was the hardest thing of all to learn, to even admit to himself. That there we matters about which he could do nothing. Except wait and trust.
"What I need to think about, then," said Sisko, "is what Jake would want me to do. About us leaving DS9."
Bashir nodded. "Of course, whatever your son's wishes might be—that is, if he tells you he wants to stay here at DS9—then you can be assured that I'll maintain a close monitoring of him. If any symptoms manifest themselves, if there's any sign that he may have been harmed by his exposure to the CI modules' effects, we can reevaluate our course of action then."
"All right." He nodded. "I'd better go speak to him."
"He's waiting for you." Bashir pointed to the corridor. "In the examining room."
His son looked up at him as the door drew open. "Hello, Jake." Sisko stepped into the small room, their privacy sealed by the exclusion of everything outside. "It's been rather too long, hasn't it?"
Jake studied him warily. "I thought you'd be angry."
"Not at you." He sat down beside his son. Only at myself . . .
Somewhere beyond, the affairs of the station and the surrounding worlds clamored for his attention. He ignored them as he talked with Jake.
As they spoke, a part of him stood aside and watched. Studying the boy, to see if there was anything a father could detect, that all of Bashir's instruments and batteries of tests had been unable to.
And then, between one word and the next, he realized he didn't have to worry. Not about this, at least. Jake had bed scared, and was still frightened and confused by the things he had experienced inside the altered holosuites . . . but he hadn't been damaged by them. Not in that intangible part of him that those wiser than doctors called the soul. Sisko felt as if an invisible stone had been lifted from his heart, breath rushing in to fill his starved lungs.
"Let's go home." He stood up, wanting to squeeze his son tight against his chest, but knowing that all he could really do was wrap his arm around the boy's shoulders.
As they walked through the station toward their living quarters, they passed by the entrance to the Promenade. Through it, Jake caught sight of one of Quark's holosuites, still presumably safe and uninfected by the CI modules. "I don't want to go in there again." He looked up at his father. "Ever."
"That's all right; you don't have to." Sisko steered his son toward the turbolift. "But not even for a game of baseball?"
Jake's face clouded, brow creased with deliberation. "I'll have to think about that."
He waited, controlling his impatience as best he could. Odo knew that if the commander was busy with family matters, there was no one to blame but himself; after all, he had been the one who had notified Sisko about his son's use of the altered holosuites. The commander's situation was one that Odo both deplored and envied, keeping both those reactions tightly contained inside. The lack of family—indeed, the lack of any creature in the known universe similar to himself—meant that he could devote his full, undivided attention to the security of Deep Space Nine; that same lack left a hollow space at his core, like an airless bubble in his natural liquid state.
His watch on the door of the commander's living quarters had lasted for over an hour now. Odo stood with his back against the corridor wall, trying to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible to anyone who might pass by. It would have been easy enough to achieve effective invisibility, transforming himself into a transparent membrane on one of the curved panels, the way he had when he'd been tailing Ahrmant Wyoss—but he knew that when the commander emerged from his conference with his son, Sisko would likely stride toward the nearest turbolift at top speed, heading back to the crises left hanging on the Ops deck. Odo didn't want to miss his chance at grabbing a share of the commander's attention before anyone else could have a shot at him.
He pulled himself to full alertness as he heard the initial hiss of the door sliding open. Just as he had anticipated, Sisko bulled out in the hurried manner, not looking to either side that had come to characterize him in the last several high-pressured shifts.
"Commander—" Odo hurried to match his pace with the commander's. "I take it that your son is all right. Dr. Bashir indicated as much to me; I hope you won't consider that a breach of confidence on his part. It is, after all, a matter that touches upon the station's security."
"Jake appears to be fine." Sisko glanced round at him. "But I appreciate your concern."
"There are some other things, however, that should be brought to your attention. Some more recent developments."
"Such as, Constable?"
They had reached the turbolift door; Odo turned to face the commander. "We've found more holosuites; virtually all of the new units have been altered with the illicit CI modules. Our Chief O'Brien has determined that the modifications were performed within the last two shifts. It seems as if whoever's behind this operation—perhaps our mysterious McHogue—was somehow able to bring a large quantity of the modules on board in a way that can't be traced through the pylons' loading docks."
"I see." Sisko nodded as he mulled over the data. "And I suppose there's still no indication of how this McHogue himself might have gotten into DS9? Or if he's still here?"
"You mean physically, rather than as an apparition in one of the altered holosuites?" Odo had been informed by the commander about the spectral figure he'd encountered when he'd gone into his son's hallucinatory world. "At this point, there's no way of determining that. With the manpower available to me, it would take weeks to conduct an exhaustive search of the station—the structure is riddled with hiding places. And if we didn't find this McHogue person, we still couldn't be sure whether he's aboard or not; he could evade detection by simply moving from place to place ahead of the search teams."
"In other words, it's up to our mysterious visitor as to whether he shows himself to us or not."
"I'm afraid so, Commander. Surveillance has been increased in the Promenade and in all the sectors where the CI modules have been found in the holosuites, on the off chance that McHogue might return to those areas. Other than that, there's not much we can do."
The turbolift opened beside them. "That will have to suffice for now." Sisko stepped into the transportation device. "Let me know if anything further develops."
"There's something else I need to discuss with you—"
Sisko's hand stopped a few centimeters away from the turbolift's controls. "What's that?"
He hesitated for only a moment. "Technically, this is something beyond my sphere of authority, Commander. Nevertheless, I feel it's my duty to inform you. Major Kira's whereabouts are unknown; as I believe you were previously notified, she left in one of the station's runabouts, without filing a flight plan."
"So where is she?"
"At the moment, she's in transit, returning from Bajor; her estimated time of arrival is within the next hour or so—"
The commander's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I expect Major Kira had her reasons. She's made similar trips before."
"This may be a little different," said Odo. "While you were occupied with these concerns regarding your son, Ops received an official subspace communication from the Bajoran capital. There's been a successful coup d'etat against the provisional government. The Severalty Front led by General Aur has taken complete control of the planet."
Sisko's eyes widened. "You must be joking, Constable."
"I'm not known for humor; the communique and the further details that have come in are waiting for you at Ops."
"The way things were going, I suppose this was inevitable." Sisko gave a weary sigh. "We'll just have to deal with it, then. At least until the Bajoran people toss this lot out."
"That may not happen for a while, Commander. I've been in touch with my own informants on Bajor; it seems that the new government has every sign of enjoying wide popular support. But that's not what I wanted to tell you about. My informants were also able to fill me in on Major Kira's activities while she was planetside. It seems that she had private meetings with various members of the Severalty Front, including General Aur, immediately before the coup."
"Indeed." The commander's expression grew hard. "Are you making an accusation against Major Kira?"
"Of course not." Odo returned the other's level gaze. "I'm merely providing information which I believe you should have. It's up to you to determine what it means."
"Meeting with members of the Severalty Front could mean anything. Or perhaps nothing."
Odo gave a single nod. "As I said, Commander: it's your determination to make."
"Very well." Sisko reached again for the turbolift controls. "You acted properly by informing me of this matter. I assume that, for the time being, the report of Kira's activities remains confidential?"
"Absolutely."
"Carry on with your other investigations, Constable." Sisko pressed a button and the turbolift chamber slid from sight.
That was unpleasant, thought Odo. Relaying information about a fellow officer, especially a . . . respected one. Still, as Sisko had pointed out, it could all mean anything, or nothing.
He turned and walked away from the turbolift doors, heading back to the security office on the Promenade.
They were all waiting for him. He knew that; there were so many things at Ops, every crucial matter that required his decision, for him to say yes or no to. He had to set policy, and deal with the complex, interwoven net of communiques and demands from the Federation and all the non-aligned worlds. While the station's enemies, those who would destroy DS9 and terminate its mission, circled around, searching for an undefended spot—some weakness that he had overlooked, that he was responsible for—that they could seize upon like earthly prey in the jaws of wolves . . .
