Summary: Jadzia Dax, Bashir, and the cast of DS9 work to solve the mystery of a pair of vortices threatening the station with the help of a trio of visiting Betazoids.
Categories: Deep Space Nine Characters: Ensemble Cast - DS9
Genre: Mystery
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 11616 Read: 520
Published: 18 Sep 2018 Updated: 04 Nov 2018
1. Chapter 1 by Mary Trouba
YEARNING by Mary B. Trouba
Jadzia found herself intrigued by the handsome stranger standing before her. "Tall, dark, and handsome," as an old Terran cliche said, the man returning her gaze was graced with a strong, trim athletic build, penetrating brown eyes that flashed when he spoke, and chin-length, dark brown hair that casually fell in tousled waves. The stranger certainly possessed an enigmatic air, Jadzia thought, as she looked into those eyes that flashed with such intensity. She wondered what circumstances had led this man to carry himself with such proud assurance, almost as if challenging her to a confrontation.
As the stranger rode off on an unusual two-legged animal that she had never seen before in order to take her request for an audience to his people, Jadzia had to admit that the probability she would be granted a meeting with the Libusians on behalf of the Federation was exceedingly slim. The Libusians were known to be an intensely isolationist people. To make matters even more difficult, the Libusians' single previous encounter with the Federation had ended dismally, the most grievous example in Federation history of what can go wrong when establishing first contact with a new world.
The stranger whom Jadzia had met served as one of the Libusians' "guardians." He and his people would naturally be extremely wary in any dealings with outsiders, given what had occurred during the "first contact" encounter. The "Libusian case" had, in fact, become a textbook example, studied by all Academy students, illustrating the ethical dilemmas that can plague the exploration of inhabited worlds -- especially when those worlds have created rich, yet insulated, cultures. First contact with Libusia had originally promised to offer great insight into the historical origins of humanoid consciousness. Libusia had long jealously guarded its autonomy, however, by shunning all contact with what it considered "toxic alien influences."
In studying for this mission, Jadzia found herself intrigued by the highly imagistic, ritualistic ways of the Libusian people, but she had to admit that she did not understand their culture very well. Granted, she had read the entire Starfleet library on the subject, but the record was scanty, based entirely upon the little that was learned during the ill-fated first contact encounter. The Federation had too hastily arranged first contact with the Libusians when it had appeared that Cardassia was going to establish a military outpost on the dark side of the planet in order to more effectively suppress the impassioned Bajoran rebels. Although the Federation had maintained an official position of neutrality and non-interference during the Bajoran-Cardassian conflict, it was no secret among Starfleet personnel that the sympathies of the Federation Council had lain with the Bajoran rebels. Many Starfleet officers, in fact, felt that the Federation really ought to have officially supported the Bajorans in their fight against Cardassian occupation. Jadzia herself saw Cardassia's occupation of Bajor as an illegitimate and tyrannical imperialism, which had served to ravage the people of Bajor and to cut short the flourishing of one of the galaxy's most artistically and spiritually developed cultures.
Unfortunately, Jadzia mused, the most non-violent cultures too often fall prey to war-like neighbors. When humanity learns to live peacefully and yet remain invulnerable to aggression, it will truly have stepped up a rung on the evolutionary ladder, she concluded. The tension between peace and strength remained one of the most ancient and perplexing riddles of existence to her, in spite of the hundreds of years she had had to observe and resolve this tension as Dax. While life as a "joined" Trill certainly conferred its advantages -- as Dax she possessed skills, knowledge, education, and life experience that a non-joined Trill and, to be honest, most humanoids would never be able to approximate -- Jadzia Dax had to admit that existential problems remained as insoluble as ever, despite Dax's seven previous lives.
Perhaps I should request that the next Dax host be of a contemplative temperament, Jadzia mused. Dax could then pursue these spiritual issues and become a wise sage, living a monk-like existence. But then, Jadzia nearly burst out laughing, as she admitted to herself that Dax had never been one to curb a gusto for life. She could just imagine Dax in a monastic situation. It was more likely that the symbiont would attempt to convert any teacher or guru to drinking, gambling, wrestling, and sex, rather than voluntarily adopt an ascetic lifestyle in order to release desire and attain enlightenment. Jadzia knew that there were some tantric communities of seekers who believed that one could attain enlightenment through immersion in the pleasures of life. But as far as asceticism and withdrawal were concerned, she knew that Dax would see several more hosts before being ready to settle down to a "seeker" existence. Heck, before her "joining" with Dax, Jadzia herself had been quite a serious young woman. At the Academy, she had even taken a few elective courses in comparative spiritualities, even though her friends couldn't understand why she would want to take something like "Metaphysical Systems of the Borovian Sector" or "Ecospiritualities of the 21st Century on Earth," when she could be using her allotted electives to sign up for intramural "Parisis Squares" or "Advanced Holosports" -- or even additional science courses that would assist her as a Starfleet cadet.
Despite this earlier receptivity to more philosophical pursuits, since Jadzia had "joined" with the Dax symbiont, she had acquired a pronounced preference for boisterous physical activities and socializing, which pulled her away from her earlier, solitary leisure pursuits. Perhaps one day, this more contemplative side of Jadzia's temperament would surface enough to compete with the gregarious, fun-loving side of her personality as a "joined" creature. But, for the time being, she found herself dominated by the personality of Dax's previous host, Curzon, with all of his extroverted gregariousness and appetite for stimulation.
Jadzia's thoughts returned to the issue of Federation neutrality during the Cardassian occupation of Bajor. The sentiment that Cardassia's occupation had been illegitimate and cruel had led a number of Federation citizens, including even several Starfleet officers, to join the Maquis. The Maquis had been a secret organization that engaged in provocative and illegal terrorist activities against the Cardassians. The Maquis had even attacked Starfleet vessels on occasion, in an attempt to trick the Federation into believing that its ships had been destroyed by Cardassian vessels, so as to incite the Federation -- with all of its military might -- to declare war against Cardassia.
So, while the Federation had officially refused to take sides in the conflict between Cardassia and Bajor, it did sanction a few "unofficial" missions designed to prevent Cardassia from unlawfully extending its influence over other worlds. One such "unofficial" mission had called for making "first contact" with the Libusians, in order to warn them of Cardassia's intention to construct an outpost on the far side of their planet. The mission had ended horribly, with the Libusians demanding that the first contact team leave the planet immediately. The Libusians had said that the Federation should quit interfering in the destiny ordained for them by "eksa," the closest translation of which would be "jarial" in official Klingon or "fate" in official Terran English. If the people these Starfleet officers referred to as "the Cardassians" established an outpost on their own remote and isolated planet, the Libusians argued, then surely such an occurrence must be part of Libusia's "eksa." That is, it must be part of their own unfolding fate as a civilization. Furthermore, they would not concern themselves until the situation actually presented itself to them.
Such a response showed how radically the Libusians live in the present, Jadzia thought. Linguistically, Libusian culture had not even developed certain past and future verb tenses that existed in all other known humanoid languages. The closest comparison she could make to the Libusian emphasis upon the "here and now" was the Bakasian word "spiruliashka" which, translated, means roughly "where the wheel turns," a reference to the velocity at which the quantum-relativistic curvature of space becomes great enough to connect one with temporalities other than one's own.
Jadzia found it interesting that many age-old philosophical and spiritual traditions linked the ability to transcend one's particular spatiotemporal situation with the slowing down of bodily processes through some form of meditation or contemplation, which was supposed to enable one to tune into ever subtler levels of "reality," the goal being an experience of the "Absolute." Obviously, in scientific terms, the ability to leap beyond the spatiotemporal situation one is in depends upon speeding up one's motion to the quantum-relativistic "cross-over" point, that mathematical construct that had served as the focus of so many story problems in her quantum geometry classes at the Academy. So, why this perennial emphasis upon "slowing down"? It was a mystery to her. Clearly, all of these spiritual traditions were either way off base, or else twenty-third century humanoids still had something to learn about the nature of reality. Probably both were true to a certain extent, she judiciously concluded.
Abruptly, Jadzia brought her attention back to the mission at hand. She pulled out her tricorder and started to survey the planet, recording basic information about atmospheric composition, geologic structure, and biological diversity for the Federation's database on Libusia. Suddenly, the voice of Doctor Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer for Deep Space Nine, came in loud and clear on her communicator.
"Bashir to Dax."
"Dax here."
"The Defiant has returned from its biological survey of Keldar. We'll be ready to start the analyses within the hour."
"Good. I'll meet you in Med Lab at fourteen hundred."
"Very well. I'll see you then. Bashir out."
With that, Jadzia looked around her and said, "Computer save Holodeck Program Dax Alpha 091." For some reason, she always felt as if she were abandoning a mission whenever she ended this particular program. Although she had entered the circumstances of other "challenging," "unsolved," or otherwise "classic" Federation missions into her holodeck options, this program on "the Libusian case" had aroused her interest like no other. It had led to her voraciously reading all of the official records on the Libusian mission -- as well as later documents written by some very prominent Federation anthropologists, who speculated about Libusian culture based upon the little that was learned during the first contact fiasco. Somehow, this holodeck program, which she had devised based upon the Libusian literature, always provoked her to think deeply about her values and about what it means to be humanoid.
Walking toward the entrance, she made a mental note of what she had done differently this time while using the holoprogram, so that later she could evaluate the effectiveness of her attempts to gain access to the Libusian leaders. The doors to the holosuite slid open and Jadzia strode into the corridor, making her way to the Promenade for lunch before heading over to Med Lab.
* * * * * * *
Operations Chief Miles O'Brien removed the wall panel that led to the controls for the holosuites in "Quark's," an immensely popular social spot owned by a Ferengi of the same name, and began making adjustments to the grid. Commander Sisko had ordered O'Brien to deactivate all of Quark's holosuites pending an investigation of the bar. The investigation was being initiated in response to a complaint by a group of Alfreerians, who maintained that the holosuites featured programs that promoted "moral laxity" and "unhealthy erotic practices."
O'Brien knew that Sisko would normally have dismissed such a complaint, tactfully explaining to the Alfreerians that Deep Space Nine abides by the Federation policy of non-censorship, which applies to entertainment practices as well as to more "traditional" areas, such as political organization and religious worship, if it had not been for one of the Alfreerians saying that the holosuite menu included an option for a holoprogram entitled "Children of the Enemy." According to the Alfreerian, the accompanying description touted the program as "a special find from the days of the Cardassian occupation." The description continued, "Experience the erotic stimulation of exercising one's sexual potency through the unrestrained use of discipline in confronting children of the war. Aggression and sexuality mix to create a forum in which you are the master."
Well, upon hearing the Alfreerian's testimony, Sisko didn't care if his actions resulted in a severe reprimand for cutting procedural corners or even in a court martial for willfully ignoring the spirit of the Federation policy on non-censorship. He was indignant enough to risk whatever consequences might ensue. Within seconds, he had called O'Brien and told him to "take Quarks' damn holosuites off-line." When O'Brien had replied that he would have the holosuites shut down by the end of the afternoon before Quark's business picked up for the evening, Sisko had barked, "I mean now, Chief. I expect those holosuites to be shut down within the hour."
So now he, Miles O'Brien, was taking the holosuites off-line, according to Sisko's orders. He had been in the midst of a seven-hour diagnostic on the reactor core, a procedure that can't be interrupted, meaning that he would have to start all over again tomorrow. At least, Kira Nerys, Sisko's first officer, had come to fill him in on why the commander was so adamant about taking Quark's holosuites off-line immediately. Apparently, she had been in Sisko's office when the Alfreerians lodged their complaints and had heard the entire conversation. Having known that the all-day diagnostic had been scheduled, Kira had rightly predicted that he would be grumbling about having to interrupt the procedure.
Well, who wouldn't grumble about having to interrupt an all-day diagnostic? O'Brien huffed to himself. Although it didn't salvage the work on the reactor core, he had to admit that he appreciated Kira's filling him in on why the holosuites had to be shut down within the hour. She was continually smoothing out his work life, it seemed, by making sure he knew what was going on. And as a father, O'Brien found himself outraged that Quark would be offering such a despicable holoprogram. He was going to let that Ferengi have a piece of his mind the next time he saw him. With these thoughts, O'Brien turned his attention back to the control panel and set about deactivating the holosuites.
* * * * * * *
Quark, meanwhile, was receiving an earful from his brother Rom, who had overheard a group of drunken customers talking about the "new Cardassian program." His curiosity piqued, Rom had quietly carried a tray of drinks upstairs (as if serving one of the holosuite customers) and proceeded to call up the new program so that he could see for himself what all of the excitement was about. Rom was no more than two minutes into the program when he spat, "Enough! End program!" and angrily made his way down the stairs to the bar, where Quark was pouring drinks.
Overcoming his usual deference to his brother, Rom burst out, "Brother! That new Cardassian program you added to the holosuite menu is the worst thing I have ever seen! You have to get rid of it!"
Caught off guard, Quark spilled a bit of the drink he was pouring. Quickly, he wiped up the spill and, turning to his brother, soothingly intoned, "Rom . . . calm down. You're drawing attention to yourself. Now . . . tell me what you are talking about."
"Quark, you know very well what I am talking about! I'm talking about that holosuite program you added to the menu. Young girls, young boys, it's not right! What would Moogie think if she knew your bar offered this holoprogram?"
"You leave Mother out of this!" Quark barked defensively. Suddenly, he stopped himself and deliberately slipped into the more cajoling attitude that he had used so effectively with his brother for years. "Now, Rom . . . haven't I warned you that some of the holoprograms are a bit much for someone with your sensitivity? And, by the way, do I pay you to spend your time in the holosuites watching holoprograms? You are supposed to be serving drinks to my customers. Why, look at table nine. Their glasses are empty. They look neglected. And you've been in a holosuite all this time . . ."
"You are not going to change the subject! That holoprogram is . . . barbaric! If you don't get rid of it, I will, brother! And you know I can. When it comes to mechanical skills, you are no match for me. I'll find a way to sabotage that program, no matter how you try to protect it. Better yet, I'll go to Constable Odo and tell him everything I know about the illegal dealings you conduct from the bar. I imagine he will want to close it down right away, while he conducts a full-scale investigation."
"Rom! You wouldn't!" Quark cried out in obvious distress.
"You just try me, brother."
"Well! Let's not get hasty!" Taken aback by this unusual show of assertiveness from the sibling he normally manipulated with such ease, Quark attempted to mollify Rom. "You have persuaded me. I'll take the program off-line. Just don't go to Odo."
"I knew you had a good heart, brother." Rom threw out his arms in glee and enthusiastically gave Quark a hug.
Uncomfortable with such public displays of affection, Quark managed to extricate himself from Rom's embrace. Waving him off, Quark dismissed Rom, saying, "Okay, okay. . . . Now, go over to table nine and see what else they want to drink."
* * * * * * *
Dax walked into Med Lab ten minutes before fourteen hundred. Engineer Nurga Oriska stood at a control panel in the adjacent room, monitoring the containment field she had constructed for the biological sample from Keldar. Bashir sat looking at a large computer screen, examining the results of several environmental tests of air quality, water quality, bacterial and viral population counts, electromagnetic exposure, and other key factors affecting the health of DS9's residents and visitors. Every two weeks, the Operations team conducted the battery of tests in order to insure that station environmental controls continued to function within normal parameters, and Bashir always made a point of monitoring the results.
Such attention to detail was part of Bashir's nature. It was such meticulousness that had allowed him to make the connection last month between frequent reports of irritability and restlessness on the station and elevated levels of blueralium, a compound used for counteracting the deleterious effects of DS9's exposure to cosmic radiation. He had been able to alleviate the problem by prescribing the extract of a common Bajoran tuber to those whose nervous systems were negatively affected. The extract caused the body to release the blueralium through perspiration. By eating the tuber and then engaging in activities that increased perspiration, such as vigorous exercise or sitting in a sauna, sufferers were able to eliminate the blueralium from their systems.
The only problem had been that a delegation of Vikarrans had been on the station at the time. Because Vikarrans do not perspire, Bashir had had to wrack his brain for a creative solution that could facilitate the removal of blueralium from their systems. Finally, while playing tennis, he had hit upon the idea of giving the Vikarrans temporary skin grafts of human epidermal tissue. The grafts, which contained sweat glands, allowed the Vikarrans to perspire. After they had engaged in several hours of saunas and exercise, Bashir was able to confirm that the blueralium had left their systems, after which he removed the epidermal grafts.
The Vikarrans had been deeply grateful. Their nervous systems were especially vulnerable to the blueralium, and they had come to Deep Space Nine to engage in sensitive commercial negotiations. As a token of their appreciation, the leader of the Vikarran delegation had given Bashir a beautiful handwritten scroll listing the Vikarran names of all known intelligent life forms in the quadrant. The calligraphy was done using a gorgeous royal blue ink which contained just the slightest hint of pink in it. Bashir treasured the scroll. He displayed it on the wall in his office, where he could look at it while he dictated his medical log.
Seeing Bashir hard at work, Dax smiled and said, "Hello, Julian."
"Hello, Jadzia. Just let me finish what I'm doing. I'll be ready to start the analyses in a moment."
"No hurry. I'm early. I'll start setting up the first assay."
Bashir nodded and turned his attention back to the screen. Dax strode over to Med Lab Station Three and started to program. She looked up as Oriska entered the room. The Vulcan engineer announced, "The biological sample from Keldar has been transported into the containment field, Lieutenant Commander. The field continues to hold as anticipated."
"Good. We'll be making the first transfer in a moment," Dax replied.
Oriska nodded in acknowledgment and returned to her post in the adjacent room.
"The results of these tests should be interesting," Dax thought to herself. The mission to Keldar to gather biological material for analysis was the first such mission conducted by DS9 (or anyone else, for that matter) on the other side of the recently discovered wormhole. The research she and Bashir were about to conduct would provide a first glimpse into the workings of life on the other side of the universe. This was the kind of opportunity for discovery that had attracted her into science in the first place, and Dax found herself eagerly anticipating the results they would obtain from their assays.
Having just completed his monitor of the environmental indices, Bashir turned to Dax and said, "How are you coming along, Jadzia? I can load the first sample, if you are ready to begin."
"Go ahead with the transfer, Julian. I'm just about finished."
"Okay." Bashir tapped his communicator. "Bashir to Oriska. We're ready for you to transfer a sample into the test field."
At that moment, a burnt orange gelatinous substance materialized in the small containment field on top of the lab bench in the middle of the room. At a sign from Dax, Bashir pressed a button on his control panel, releasing a green chemical solution into the field.
"Test Reagent Number One added," Bashir stated matter-of-factly.
"Reagent Number One -- titanium oxide solution," Dax confirmed as she watched the screen, waiting for the measurements to appear. "High levels of reactivity, exceeding 0.90."
"Okay. Continuing with Reagent Number Two." Bashir pressed another button on the control panel and released a purple mist into the containment field. "Reagent Number Two added."
"Reagent Number Two -- beryllium," Dax echoed. The measurements almost immediately appeared on the screen. "Moderate reactivity . . . 0.55."
"All right. Moving on to Reagent Number Three." Bashir pressed a third button on the control panel. This time an inky black liquid entered the containment field. "Reagent Number Three added."
"Reagent Number Three -- nitrous lanthanum."
A frown appeared on Dax's face as she examined the screen.
"Julian, look at this!"
She turned the display terminal so the doctor could see as well and then pointed two-thirds of the way down the screen, explaining, "The molecular vibration patterns of some of the particles are increasing exponentially. And look here . . . other particles are losing velocity. It's almost as if . . ."
Looking off into the distance, Dax thought for a moment and then said, "Computer . . . convert data into geometrical display."
Returning her gaze to the screen, she watched the pattern appear, concluding, "Yes! It's just as I thought. The sample is separating into two equal portions with opposite vibrational patterns. The net effect is that a vortex of energy is being created."
"A vortex?" Bashir repeated. "But why? I've never seen nitrous lanthanum do this with organic matter before.”
"Neither have I," Dax concurred. Thinking out loud, she continued, "In order for a vortex to form with the addition of nitrous lanthanum, the sample would have to be characterized by an unusual degree of molecular spin . . . so high, in fact, that the instruments on the research vessel might have registered it as a malfunction in the sensor equipment."
"Jadzia," Bashir interrupted, "look!"
As Dax followed Bashir's gaze, she understood why the doctor's voice had been so emphatic. The material in the sample was transforming before their very eyes, changing from the burnt orange gelatinous mass it had been to a bright yellow liquid that gave off a strange white fluorescence. Even more astonishing, the Keldarian biomatter seethed as if it were a single organism, trying to leave the containment field.
Dax rose from her chair and moved in for a closer look at the biomatter. Bashir picked up his tricorder and began to scan. The biomatter in the containment field continued to change in a chameleon-like manner, swiftly evolving in color and texture. Dax turned back to the computer console and hurriedly requested additional analyses, looking for possible explanations for the biomatter's sudden transformation. As she and the doctor worked, the biomatter arranged itself into a funnel that pushed against the sides of the containment field.
"My God, Jadzia! The sample has been completely assimilated into the vortex pattern!" Bashir exclaimed. "And the pattern is growing in strength! Do you think the containment field will continue to hold?"
"We have a bigger problem than simply keeping the containment field in place. My calculations show that the vortex is intensifying to the point where, within the next forty-two hours, it will break through the fabric of space. . . . Julian," Dax continued soberly, looking the doctor straight in the eye, "the biomatter is creating a wormhole."
Bashir completed Dax's thought out loud. "Which means that Deep Space Nine and everything on it will be destroyed if we don't come up with a way to stop it."
Resignedly, Dax nodded her head in confirmation.
* * * * * * *
Sisko paced around his office as he listened intently to what Dax and Bashir were telling him. He had sent for the rest of the senior staff immediately upon hearing Dax describe the seriousness of the situation. As a commander, Sisko generally relied upon a team approach toward problem-solving anyway, and it was clear to him from what Dax had said so far that, in order to lead the station through this wormhole crisis, he would need all of the creative ideas and expertise at his disposal. He only hoped that the resourcefulness of his staff would enable them to devise a way to prevent the embryonic wormhole from rupturing space and devouring much of the sector in the process, including Bajor and Deep Space Nine.
The first to arrive was Kira Nerys, a Bajoran who, in addition to serving as first officer on Deep Space Nine, functioned as the station's liaison with the Bajoran homeworld. Sisko still remembered how, when he first arrived on the station, he had committed the faux pas of addressing her as "Nerys." Later, he had learned that Bajorans identify themselves by their surname first and then by their given name. He must have sounded quite presumptuous, calling his first officer by her given name, as if they were old friends.
Sisko had discovered through experience that Kira's fiercely independent streak, cultivated during the years she had spent as a rebel terrorist fighting the Cardassians, was complemented by an unswerving loyalty to the people and ideals in which she believed. Always willing to speak her mind, Kira was an energetic and capable first officer, whose feistiness was immediately apparent to anyone who tried to cross her.
The next to arrive was Miles O'Brien, the station's Chief of Operations. O'Brien had served the Federation for over twenty years before coming to DS9, most recently, as engineer and "transporter wizard" on the Enterprise-D. A true perfectionist, he was continually upgrading the old Cardassian station that had been renamed "Deep Space Nine" when it was taken over by Starfleet at the request of the Bajoran provisional government. O'Brien's on-going efforts to overhaul the antiquated station had led to good-natured teasing by the other officers, who every so often asked him when the overhaul of the station would be complete. O'Brien had to admit that, by the time any such overhaul would be done to his satisfaction, he would surely have to start all over again.
When he had first arrived on Deep Space Nine, he had been dismayed to find that the Cardassian technology used in building the station left a great deal to be desired. The opportunity of a promotion to "Chief of Operations" had been so enticing initially that he and his wife, Keiko, had decided to relocate to the space station in order to further his career. But when O'Brien first saw the inferior technology used in constructing the station, his pride in being named the new "Chief of Operations of Deep Space Nine" took a temporary beating. He began to think that he had made a mistake in dragging Keiko and Molly, their young daughter, out to this isolated sector of the galaxy.
Not one to remain mired down in negative thinking, however, when there was work to be done, O'Brien had quickly regained his emotional equilibrium, once again feeling a sense of pride in being the "Chief" and setting himself to the huge task of overhauling the obsolete station. He even came to enjoy the special challenge of overhauling DS9, a task that taxed his creativity and resourcefulness and that required him to expand his knowledge of non-Federation technologies.
The last to arrive was Odo, the station's Chief of Security, a being whose unique shapeshifting abilities made him an especially formidable investigator. Odo had been found as an infant in the Denorios Belt and raised by a Cardassian scientist stationed on Bajor during the occupation. When it became apparent that his shapeshifting abilities made him a natural "spy," the Cardassians had charged him with special investigative tasks, leading eventually to his becoming their Chief Security Officer and then later Chief Security Officer for the Federation, when Starfleet assumed control of DS9. Because he had lived on the station when it was Terok Nor (the name DS9 possessed when it was under Cardassian control), Odo possessed an unparalleled familiarity with the station. This familiarity had proven invaluable on the number of occasions when engineering had accidentally triggered old Cardassian security routines and on the few occasions when hostile forces had attempted to gain control of Deep Space Nine's command center.
Now that the senior staff had gathered in Sisko's office, Dax and Bashir launched into a description of the situation confronting them in Med Lab. They explained that the biomatter was in the process of forming a vortex pattern that, if left unchecked, would lead to the formation of a wormhole the size of the distance between Bajor and its sun. The developing wormhole would destroy everything within its circumference until it stabilized, a process that would take on the order of seventy-five light-years.
When Dax and Bashir had finished their briefing, Sisko intoned, "Okay, now you all know the situation. What are our options?"
Quietly, the members of the senior staff contemplated possible avenues of action. Finally, O'Brien broke the silence. "My first hunch is to say that we should transport the biomatter off of the station, but there is no way we could transport it far enough away, if it is going to grow into a wormhole the size of a solar system."
"Besides, we'd still have the problem of finding a place to deposit the biomatter. Given that the developing wormhole will encompass such a vast space," Bashir explained, "I don't think we could find a site in the sector where the vortex formation would not threaten some populated planet."
"Well, there is no way we could evacuate the area to be affected, even if we wanted to," Kira pointed out. "Not even thinking about the massive organizational problem of evacuating the entire planet of Bajor, as well as the station -- even if we did have enough ships of warp capability -- there is no way we could travel fast enough in less than two days to get beyond the range of the wormhole when it explodes to its mature size." As usual, Kira was unflinchingly candid and practical in her assessment of the situation.
"Given that the matter is organic," Bashir thought out loud, "what if we flood the sample with inorganic molecules in order to break down its structure?"
"Something like tetrazine or hydrogen sulfide might do the trick," Dax chimed in. Elaborating on Bashir's idea, she continued, "If we can dissolve the molecular bonds within the biomatter by using inorganic molecules, we will, in effect, have killed it. We will no longer be able to study it as a precursor of alien life forms, as we had originally planned, but we might be able to prevent the wormhole from developing."
"Stopping the wormhole is definitely our top priority," Sisko said decisively. "Dax and Bashir, carry out the plan you just described. If there's a way to neutralize that biomatter, I want you to find it. In the meantime, Chief, I want you to do what you can to boost the containment field in Med Lab so we can hold off the next expansion as long as possible. Kira and Odo, cordon off the medical wing and the quarters surrounding it. Move anyone who doesn't need to be in that wing to a different area of the station."
Looking around the room at his senior staff, Sisko concluded, "Keep me posted on your progress, all of you. Dismissed."
* * * * * * *
In the Klingon restaurant on the Promenade, Lannirva and Malara lingered over cups of steaming seagrass before going to the Infirmary to visit Lannirva's husband, Jalil. Jalil was being treated for Gendari fever, which he had come down with during the night. He, Lannirva, and Malara -- all Betazoids -- had only just arrived on Deep Space Nine this morning after a two-week holiday on Risa, a planet renowned for the sensually gratifying hospitality of its people.
Gingerly sipping the hot liquid, Malara said to her sister, "Lanna, I'm glad we decided to nap before visiting Jalil and touring the Promenade. After arriving so early this morning, I felt as if I were going to drop from sheer exhaustion."
"Your late night partying with that attractive Bajoran on the transport ship didn't help you feel refreshed?" Lannirva teased.
"No," Malara smiled, "but it was worth it anyway." Taking another sip of the hot brew, she continued, "You know, Lanna, I had the strangest dream. I dreamt that I was standing in front of two huge funnels, spinning one on top of the other. The funnel on the bottom was upside down, spinning clockwise. The funnel on top was right side up, spinning counterclockwise. As I was looking at the funnels spin, an orange mist suddenly filled the space, and I felt a deep sense of longing, as if I were very far away from home. . . . Actually, it was more like a piece of myself was missing. It was the strangest feeling. I still can't shake it." Malara's eyes welled with tears.
Lanna stared at her sister, speechless, feeling the tingle of goose bumps on her skin. Quickly regaining the power of speech, she exclaimed, "Great Goddess! I had the very same dream while I was resting. I saw the funnels, the orange color. I felt the feeling of yearning and utter desolation. I also saw the funnels merge and separate five or six times. Malara, I had the distinct sensation that I was in danger of permanently losing one-half of myself. When I awoke, I assumed that I was more afraid of losing Jalil to the fever than I had allowed myself to believe. I have to admit, the feeling-tone of the dream was incredibly strong. It lingers with me even now."
"Perhaps I was feeling your fear over losing Jalil." Malara put an arm around her sister and then comforted herself with another sip of the seagrass brew, which warmed her insides. "Let's hurry up and finish these drinks," she urged, "so we can head to the Infirmary and see how Jalil is doing."
* * * * * * *
Keiko stared in amazement at the row of sculptures facing her. As the teacher on Deep Space Nine, she had been introducing her beginning art class to sculpture. Her beginning art students ranged in age from four to six years. Although most were either Terran or Bajoran, the class also included a few Vulcans, Klingons, and even a pair of twin Delosians, whose parents were on DS9 conducting anthropological research.
Normally, she enjoyed the cultural diversity of the children whom she taught. Today, however, "diverse" was the last word she would use to describe her students. For some unknown reason, every single student in her beginning art class had produced the same exact sculpture. Oh, sure, some sculptures were a bit more polished than others, but the overall form of each was identical -- two funnels lying side by side, touching each other at their tips. What could have gotten into her students? Were they all copying each other? Was there a popular new hologame out that contained this image?
Keiko was at a complete loss. Shaking her head in perplexity, she decided that tomorrow she would talk to her class about the role of originality and self-expression in the artistic process. Usually she saved such a discussion for her older, intermediate class, when students generally started to become more concerned with social approval than with expressing their individuality. Considering the circumstances, however, Keiko felt that this class of beginners could certainly use some encouragement in exploring the potential of art for unleashing the imagination. In her mind, the most important function of an art teacher is to encourage students to enjoy the artistic process itself -- the sense of creativity, freedom, mastery, and individual uniqueness it offers. Usually, this came naturally for young children. But, then again, Keiko had to admit, she had never seen such an outpouring of conformity among children this age. Taking a few minutes to talk to her beginning class about the fun of "being themselves" in art (and in life) certainly wouldn't hurt, she decided. With that decision made, she turned her attention to preparing tomorrow's lecture on Level VI astrocartography.
* * * * * * *
"It will take me another thirty minutes to prepare the neutralizing solution for delivery into the containment field," Dax informed Bashir. "In the meantime, I hope O'Brien manages to get us some additional strength. I'm not sure the current field can contain the reaction we are about to induce."
Bashir nodded his acknowledgment and said, "Jadzia, if you don't mind, I'd like to make a quick visit to the Infirmary while you finish preparing the neutralizer. I have a few patients I need to check on."
"Sure. Go right ahead. I'll call you when I'm ready."
The doctor made his way down the corridor and into the Infirmary. He checked in with the medical technician on duty, a Bajoran named Lido Valim, to see how the Halridian who had just undergone multiple organ transplant was doing. After learning of his progress, the doctor walked over to the sleeping Halridian and quickly made a few scans himself. Satisfied, he next made his way over to a Betazoid named Jalil, who had been admitted with Gendari fever. Although normally considered a minor disease, Gendari fever sometimes proved fatal for Betazoids. Unfortunately, the neurochemistry that facilitated telepathy in Betazoids had been found to be especially vulnerable to the virus.
Jalil was in the midst of a conversation with two female visitors. He was showing them a sketch he had made. Bashir knew that Jalil was an accomplished artist on his homeworld. As a doctor, he had gladly accommodated Jalil's request for a sketch pad and inks to be placed on the table next to his bed, so that he could draw as he recuperated. Bashir was well aware that this would more than likely help keep Jalil's spirits high, thereby speeding his recovery. The doctor's only requirement had been that his patient get plenty of rest, meaning that the sketch pad had to be put away by twenty-one hundred.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bashir caught a glimpse of the sketch Jalil had been showing his visitors, which now lay on the table next to the artist's bed. The likeness to the computer model of the biomatter configuration was unmistakable. Excitedly, Bashir moved over to the table and picked up the sketch, asking Jalil, "You drew this?"
"Yes, I drew it just this afternoon, a few hours ago," the Betazoid artist replied.
Bashir paused for a closer look at the drawing. It showed two vortices joined at their narrow ends, forming an hourglass-shape. In block letters underneath, the artist had entitled the sketch, "Yearning."
Malara did not have to use her proficient telepathic ability to sense the doctor's keen interest in Jalil's rendering. She offered, "What is particularly striking about the sketch, Doctor, is that both my sister, Lannirva, and I had dreams about this very same image during the afternoon naps we took to offset our travel fatigue. Jalil has chosen an apt title for his sketch. I too experienced a profound longing when the image of the funnels appeared in my dream. We were just in the midst of discussing the meaning of the image. I had thought perhaps Lannirva, Jalil, and myself should develop a ritual to explore its meaning. We Betazoids often conduct rituals when we experience shared telepathic images. We believe that the emergence of shared telepathic images, whether in dreams or in waking life, indicates an eruption of the Betazoid collective unconscious, which must be consciously dealt with and integrated if Betazoid culture is to grow, rather then stagnate."
"But," Bashir interjected, "I too have seen this image. It is the configuration of the biomatter we are studying from the other side of the wormhole."
The full import of the telepathic Betazoids' shared experience suddenly dawned on the doctor. Instantly, Bashir reached for his communicator. "Bashir to Dax."
"Dax here."
The doctor's voice was clear and unequivocal. "Hold off on delivering the neutralizing solution, Jadzia. And hold off on any more tests. I have reason to believe the biomatter is an intelligent life form."
* * * * * * *
Commander Sisko and the members of the senior staff sat in the conference room once again, this time listening intently as the three Betazoids recounted their "visions" of the vortices that Bashir had recognized as replicas of the biomatter configuration he and Dax had been studying.
After the visitors had finished speaking, Bashir turned to Sisko and said, "I believe, Commander, that the biomatter is an intelligent life form that is trying to communicate with us. We might never have known if Jalil, Lannirva, and Malara had not been visiting the station. As Betazoids, they are sensitive to subtle stimuli. Given their telepathic abilities, it is logical to assume that Lannirva's and Malara's dreams and the inspiration for Jalil's drawing came from a common source. I believe that source is the biomatter sitting in Med Lab, which over the past seven hours has been steadily forming a configuration which matches that of the images our Betazoid visitors have seen."
"Then what about this sense of 'yearning' associated with the funnels? What does that mean?" O'Brien asked, looking first at Bashir and then at the Betazoids.
After a brief pause, Sisko suggested, "Maybe the biomatter is looking for a mate. Who knows? It may be entering its reproductive phase."
The group thought about this idea for a moment. "It could mean that the biomatter is yearning for its home," Dax mused. "We did transport it here from the other side of the wormhole."
"Perhaps the biomatter is mourning its separation from the collective," Kira offered. "I know on Bajor we have a children's tale about a plant that mourns when it is harvested. Although it is happy to serve as food for a young girl, the plant mourns its separation from its family and friends. The tale is meant to teach Bajoran children to remember to say the affirmation of gratitude that is Bajoran practice before every meal.
Dax looked at the Betazoids and asked, "Jalil, Lannirva, Malara, have any of you sensed what this yearning is about?"
The three Betazoids looked at each other and shook their heads. "No," Malara answered for all of them.
Leaning forward, arms on the table, Dax persisted. "Well, do you think you could find out what the biomatter is yearning for? The three of you could consciously try to communicate with it. I don't know a lot about telepathy, but perhaps if you combine your abilities and concentrate your attention on a single goal, you could find out what the biomatter wants."
"Is such a course of action safe for the Betazoids?" Odo interrupted. As the individual in charge of security for the station, Odo was constantly on the alert for possible threats to the station's residents and visitors.
"We don't know that it would be safe," Sisko acknowledged. "And given that the three of you are not Starfleet personnel, I could not command you to attempt communication with the biomatter, if you felt it were too risky. However," he continued, gazing intently into the eyes of the three Betazoids, "given the grave danger that is being posed to everyone living in this sector, I would hope that I could persuade you to help."
"I'm not sure the telepathic approach would work," Bashir interjected. "If the biomatter could communicate more specific information telepathically, don't you think it would have already done so, given that Malara, Jalil, and Lannirva are obviously receptive to their attempts at communication?"
"A valid point," Sisko conceded. "Before we decide to go ahead with Dax's idea of attempting telepathic communication with the biomatter, let's consider the alternatives. What other possibilities are there?"
"Commander, I could use my shapeshifting abilities to enter the containment field and then see if I could communicate with the biomatter," Odo volunteered.
"That seems far less safe than having our Betazoid friends attempt telepathic communication, Constable," Sisko countered. "Even with your shapeshifting abilities, there is no guarantee that you would be able to communicate with the life form."
"Perhaps. But at least I'm station personnel. My suggestion would not endanger the safety of our visitors," Odo replied matter-of-factly.
Just then, the doors to the conference room slid open and Quark entered with a flourish, carrying an ornate chest. Speaking with all of the polish and confidence of an accomplished negotiator, Quark began, "Commander, I have heard about the new wormhole, and I am prepared to purchase it from you. The Federation already has one stable wormhole in the quadrant and the Ferengi have none. I am prepared to buy the new wormhole from the Federation for twenty-five hundred bars of gold-pressed latinum. A mighty generous offer, I believe you will agree. Here is a down payment so that you can call off any other bidders."
Quark opened the ornate chest to reveal an array of golden bars piled inside. As the Ferengi set the chest on the table in front of Sisko, reflections leapt and danced off the shiny surfaces of the golden bars, which shimmered in the light.
"Quark, even if I wanted to sell you the wormhole, I don't have the authority," Sisko answered impatiently. "The Federation doesn't own space. I can't sell you a wormhole."
"You know what I mean, Commander," Quark persisted. "I want to buy control of access to the new wormhole."
"Quark!" Sisko barked. "We are trying to stop the formation of this 'new' wormhole. If it develops, it will wipe out this entire sector of space and everyone in it. That includes you and your bar, not to mention Deep Space Nine and Bajor and all of the planets within 75 light-years of this station!" Sisko paused just long enough to take a deep breath. "Now, I just don't have time for your antics at this moment. We're in a meeting trying to figure out how to prevent this from happening. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Well, when you put it that way, Commander," Quark meekly replied, "by all means, I'll allow you to get back to work."
"By the way, how did you find out about the wormhole?" Odo interrogated his nemesis. "To my knowledge, we haven't told anyone about it yet. What were you doing? Spying?"
"I have my sources," Quark briskly replied. Turning to leave the room, the Ferengi muttered to himself as he shook his head, "Wipe out the entire station! All that work building up the bar! What am I going to do?!"
Dax tried hard to restrain a grin. After Quark had left the room, she couldn't resist observing, "Anyone else would be worried about his own death. Leave it to Quark to worry about profit at a time like this."
Sisko looked at his old friend Dax, whom he had had the privilege of knowing as both Curzon and Jadzia, and momentarily cracked a smile.
"Okay," he said, serious once again, "let's get back to the issue at hand. How can we communicate with this biomatter without sending the Constable here into the containment field?"
"Commander, what if we transport the biomatter and its containment field into the holosuites in Quark's bar?" O'Brien suggested. "We could transport the biomatter directly into the holosuite computer, so that it would have the resources of the holosuite to use in attempting to communicate with us. I could reconfigure the containment field to protect any observers inside. The biomatter would have control of what happens inside the holosuite, but would itself be confined to the containment field."
"Seeing Quark made me think of it," the chief of operations continued. "Executing such a plan requires a 'self-contained' holosuite if the station's computers are to be safeguarded. But what with the work you had me doing down at ‘Quark's’ earlier today, Commander, I've already disconnected the holosuites from the station's computers as part of the shutdown. All that remains to be done is to connect one of the holosuites to an alternate power supply and to remove the control lock-outs. I could have a holosuite set up and ready to go in less than an hour."
"A good idea, Chief!" Sisko responded enthusiastically. "Kira, I'll want you in charge of Ops, while Dax, Bashir, and I attempt to communicate with the biomatter. Chief, you'll be monitoring holosuite activity from the nearest access point outside the suite. Odo, I want you to assist the chief in monitoring the integrity of the containment field and the activity of the biomatter. All right. . . . For now, Chief, you'll be preparing the holosuite. Dax, you and Bashir assist the chief with the preparations for the biomatter transport. In the meantime, Kira, you and Odo clear out Quark's bar. I want everyone off of the Promenade before we begin the transport. We'll gather at our assigned posts in one hour. Dismissed."
* * * * * * *
An hour later, Sisko strode purposefully through the Promenade and into "Quark's," which was now deserted. Although he himself had given the order to close the bar for the duration of the biomatter transport into the holosuite, the place still felt uncannily quiet to him. It seemed unnatural not to hear the usual sounds -- the staccato of the Dabo wheel, the shouts of excited gamblers, the laughing and boasting of customers having a good time, the light-hearted jousting of flirtation, the low, husky tones of seduction. Sisko enjoyed strolling through "Quark's" every now and then simply to observe the people. Although he had already lived on DS9 for a few years, the bar's diverse clientele still held a certain fascination for him, including as it did exotic beings from all over the quadrant.
No wonder Jake had taken to sitting in the bar, computer in hand, with a glass of iced daelium at his side, that sweet Bajoran herb that had become so popular on the station. Jake had recently taken to composing short fictional stories about the station's residents and visitors. With its colorful clientele and bustling scene, "Quark's" provided a perfect spot for such an activity. It seemed that, sooner or later, everyone on the station passed through "Quark's."
Ironically, Sisko had learned of his son's interest in writing one evening when Jake had brought a young Dabo girl named Mardah home for dinner. Mardah let it slip that it was Jake's poetry that had attracted her to him in the first place. At the time, Sisko couldn't have been more surprised -- not to mention a bit consternated -- that his fourteen-year-old son was writing love poetry to a Dabo girl. Afterwards, Sisko had asked Jake if he could read some of his poems. He had to admit that much of his son's poetry was quite good.
Within the past few months, however, Jake's interest had shifted from poetry to prose. Concurrent with this shift in creative interest, Jake had started spending more and more of his time in the bar, where he said the "potential for inspiration" was at its best. For a while, Sisko had wondered whether his son wasn't simply developing a bad habit of hanging out in the bar due to sheer laziness. But deep down, he trusted his son. And when he really was honest with himself, he had to acknowledge that Quark's bar did provide one of the best sites in the quadrant for observing humanoid nature in all of its flamboyant diversity.
Now reaching the holosuite corridor, Sisko rounded the corner to see O'Brien, Dax, Bashir, and Odo gathered outside Holosuite Three. O'Brien had removed two of the wall panels so that the holosuite controls stood exposed for ready access. Odo stood alertly next to one of the exposed sections, which Dax had reconfigured to display information about the biomatter's properties and the strength of the containment field.
Seeing the commander, Dax spoke up. "Hello, Benjamin. We're ready for the biomatter transport to Holosuite Three at your command."
"Very well then. Let's get started.
The doors to Holosuite Three slid open, allowing Dax, Bashir, and Sisko to enter the room that had served to provide so much entertainment to the station's residents and visitors. Just last week, Sisko had used this particular holosuite to play baseball with Jake. Dax had used Holosuite Three this very morning to explore the mystery and challenge of the legendary Libusian mission, and O'Brien regularly used Quark's holosuites to go kayaking. Besides the sporting adventures and theatrical opportunities they afforded, the holosuites also, of course, served as sites for an untold variety of erotic rendezvouses. Due to holotechnology's amazing capability to simulate the galaxy's most wondrous and romantic places (as well as its ability to provide all kinds of entertainment), going to a holosuite had become standard dating activity. Of course, some of Quark's customers employed the technology in a way that was not originally envisioned by its creators, that is, to create sexual partners for themselves, holocharacters who would acquiesce to their every desire.
As Dax, Bashir, and Sisko entered the holosuite, O'Brien tapped his communicator. "O'Brien to Ops."
"Ops here," Kira responded.
"We are beginning the biomatter experiment. I will initiate the transport of biomatter to Holosuite Three upon the commander’s signal."
"All right. Let me know if you need help. Good luck, Chief. Kira out."
Once inside, Sisko, Dax, and Bashir walked to the center of the holosuite. Looking levelly at his officers, Sisko tapped his communicator. "Initiate the biomatter transport, Chief."
"Initiating transport," O'Brien responded as, outside the holosuite, he manipulated the controls. On O'Brien's left, Odo stood attentively gazing at the screen as information about the transported biomatter and containment field appeared.
Tapping his communicator, O'Brien confirmed, "Transport complete, Commander."
Inside the holosuite, however, no such perfunctory confirmation was needed. Upon its transport to Holosuite Three, the biomatter had immediately produced a stunning pair of whirling gray vortices, just as Jalil, Lannirva, and Malara had described. The vortices spun against a dramatic mauve-orange background -- reminiscent of the sunset on Trill, Dax thought to herself. The swirling of the vortices sent the officers' hair flying and forced them to shout in order to be heard above the roar. As they strained to speak with each other, the roar suddenly subsided, leaving only the image of the two vortices.
Looking pensive, Sisko walked slowly around the three-dimensional hourglass shape, observing the vortices carefully. Finally, he spoke. "Well, we've seen the image that the Betazoids reported, but we still don't know what it means."
Turning to face the funnels, Sisko attempted to communicate directly with the biomatter. "We are trying to understand your message. Can you show us more? What is it that you want?"
The officers waited several moments for a response from the biomatter, but nothing happened. Dax had been strolling around the funnels, deep in thought. Now, she spoke. "Perhaps we need to actively participate in the holoprogram that the biomatter has created for us. What happens, for example, if I step inside the vortices?"
Dax walked deliberately into the funnels. As she stood with her legs in the bottom vortex and her torso in the upper funnel, the image disappeared. Suddenly, the officers were watching a young woman entering a house, where she was being greeted with hugs and kisses. The young woman was escorted into a living room decorated with a Christmas tree and holiday lights and invited to sit at a table sumptuously set for holiday dinner. "It's so good to have you home, Annie," a white-haired gentleman said to the young woman.
Abruptly, the scene faded and an image of a crystalline pyramid appeared. As with the vortices, at first nothing else happened. Dax walked over to the pyramid and picked it up to examine it. As she did so, a ray of white light blazed over her right shoulder and entered the pyramid, which immediately became a prism, separating the white light into its component colors and creating a beautiful rainbow in the process.
The colors of the rainbow then recombined in such a way as to create what appeared to be a large tapestry. An old woman wearing a gray dress, her hair tucked into a bonnet, sat in a wooden chair with the tapestry on her lap. The woman began to pull on certain threads, removing them one by one. Soon, the tapestry was a raggedy mess, riddled with holes. The woman matter-of-factly continued to unravel the once stunning and colorful tapestry.
Suddenly, the yellow thread which the old woman held in her hands grew in size and intensity until it filled the room. Dark spindles of genetic material appeared within the yellow color, loosely bounded by a diffuse membrane. The spindles stretched between the two halves of the membrane as if trying to pull away from each other.
"Why, that's a picture of meiosis!" Bashir exclaimed. Thinking out loud, he continued, "What do gamete production and wormholes have to do with each other?"
In response, the image quickly changed into one of a fertilized egg. As if operating against the laws of nature, the fertilized egg separated into sperm and ovum, and the sperm swam backward away from the egg. Inexplicably, an image of a young boy, no more than twelve years old, appeared. Tears filled his eyes. Soon, he was sobbing out loud.
"Why are you crying?" Dax asked the boy. "Please tell me. I want to help."
"I miss my home," the boy whimpered. "And they need me there. Otherwise, all we have built will collapse."
Dax sympathetically put her arm around the boy's shoulders. "I need to know. What is it that is in danger of collapsing?"
"Our existence," the boy sobbed. "And the fabric of space-time that we have built."
"Oh, my God!" Bashir exclaimed. "This life form's very existence is at stake. No wonder its behavior has been so extreme. It is trying to survive."
"There is even more at stake than this life form's existence, Julian," Dax interjected. "If the fabric of space-time collapses, as it says, there is no telling how that would affect its home quadrant. We brought this life form back with us from the other side of the wormhole. If it dies, civilizations on the other side of the wormhole that depend on it might not survive. The wormhole itself might collapse. Who knows? . . . Not to mention the fact that, given its behavior on this station, we will probably all be destroyed by the new wormhole it is creating, if we don't take it back to its home."
"Dax," Sisko ordered, "you and Bashir take the Defiant. I'll have the chief transport the biomatter to the ship. Make sure these beings get back to their home as quickly as possible."
Dax gave a nod of affirmation. "Let's go, Julian. No time to waste."
* * * * * * *
Dax and Bashir had been traveling for nearly eight hours when they came within sensor range of the M class planet from which the research team had taken the biomatter sample.
Checking the sensor displays, Dax said in surprise, "Julian, look at this! Another wormhole is forming on the planet's surface. The research team that came here to take samples less than 48 hours ago made no mention of a wormhole. That must be the explanation behind the recurring image of the two vortices joined at their narrow ends! While the biomatter on the station was creating a new wormhole in our quadrant, the beings left behind were creating a second wormhole on this end. The separated beings must have been trying to create a wormhole in space that would enable them to reunite."
"Incredible! Just think of the complex intelligence involved in creating a wormhole. And this appears to be a reflex mechanism for this species, a method of survival when the collective is divided. Just think, two adjoining wormholes in space as a way to restore the collective."
Interrupting Bashir's reverie, Dax announced, "Okay, we are now in transporter range."
She looked at the doctor with a serious expression on her face and said, "Julian, I don't know what will happen when we execute the transport. The energy released by the recombination of biomatter and the collapse of the forming wormholes may tear the ship apart. It will depend upon the rate of reintegration."
"I understand," Bashir quietly acknowledged. "I'm ready when you are."
Dax gazed at her good friend a moment longer. Then, abruptly returning to her usual no-nonsense approach, she announced, "I am programming the coordinates for the biomatter transport into the computer."
"Coordinates accepted," Bashir confirmed.
"Initiating transport."
A burst of white and lavender energy exploded into view. Shock waves from the explosion treacherously battered the ship, slamming Dax and Bashir out of their seats. Bashir found his head nearly hurled against the side of the cabin but managed, at the last moment, to grab onto an armrest. Dax's greater experience with space travel, given her seven lifetimes as Dax, psychologically prepared her for the impact, but she was still having a terrible time steadying herself enough to scramble back into her seat so that she could pilot the ship.
The aftershocks pummeled the vessel, exerting perilous stresses on the hull. Shouting to Bashir, Dax directed, "We have to turn the ship about!"
Bashir managed to pull himself over to the navigation controls and input the command. As the Defiant reversed its direction and pulled away from the blast, Dax hauled herself up into her seat. Once there, she deftly manipulated the controls, setting a course for the wormhole at warp eight, a speed that would carry them ahead of the shock waves.
* * * * * * *
In the conference room, Sisko, Kira, O'Brien, and Odo listened intently to Dax and Bashir as they debriefed the others on their mission to return the biomatter to its home.
"Is there any residual effect of the new wormhole that was in the process of forming on the station?" Dax inquired. "Any disruption to local space-time?"
"It appears not," Kira answered. "The chief and I swept the entire station this morning with a delatron scanner, looking for space-time fractures, and we didn't find any."
"That's a relief," Dax replied. "What strikes me is how the survival
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