Lost Time (7 page)

For Soloman, it was like sitting at the bottom of an infinitely deep pool. He was aware of light shimmering overhead and a world beyond this hermetic seal. But that life was far away and strangely muffled, and he had no strength to reach for it, or the desire. At a rudimentary level akin to instinct, he understood what he had done: caught 110 in a paradox, a recursive algorithm that could not be resolved.

Then the quality of the light above changed, and the surface seemed to split, and Soloman knew that they—someone—had come after him.

“Beneath the surface,” said 111. The chip on her left temple winked furiously, and the buffer on her belt hummed. Her lips quivered, and her blue eyes were wide and liquid. “It’s another line of code. Not thought.”

“A
fourth
Bynar?” said Gold. “Are you sure? How do you know that the Androssi haven’t planted a virus designed to simulate a Bynar’s cerebral patterns?”

“No, no…” 111 shook her head in the exaggerated way of a little girl trying to make a point to an adult who just did not speak the same language. But her hesitancy was gone, and her speech had acquired the high singsong Gold associated with the Bynars. “This is no virus. This is not 110 either, and it is not 110’s doppelgänger. Both are unchanged.
This
one says that the doppelgänger is Soloman, a Bynar existing outside in another temporal realm.”

“It’s a Prophet,” Dax blurted. “Look, the reason we stole the device in the first place is because the ancient Hebitians built it, and the Cardassians can’t access it. The pictographs on those Hebitian tombs on Cardassia strongly favor the view that the Hebitians were telepaths—”

“That’s only legend,” said Gomez.

Salek said, “Legends usually have a basis in fact. We know that there are no Cardassian telepaths. Yet the Hebitians leave behind a device that relies on the ability to access information on a digital level when combined with telepathy. The Bynars are the only species capable of both.”

Dax looked triumphant. “What’s happening now is precisely what’s been prophesized: that the One will reach out and then His Temple will be reborn. Well, now we’ve got a window, a quantum fracture into a realm of space through which energy and information can be transferred. Think about it a second. We know that Bynars always come in pairs. Always. But now 110 has found his match, a twin. How is that possible? Singletons are incapable of meshing. They’re unfit to do so. But this energy signature can, and he calls himself Solo-Man.” She paused, her darkly brown eyes clicking over their faces. “Don’t you understand? Solo-Man.
One Man. The
One.”

“No, no,” said 111. “There is Soloman, and then there is this other. He is a,” she cocked her head an instant, chittered in dataspeak and said, “Ferengi.”

“What are
those?
” asked Gold.

Another pause. “He says it would take too long to explain. There are, it seems, many rules applying to acquisition. He says that we must shut down this device; that the search program has activated the computer on their side of the datastream on their…” 111’s eyes were huge. “On Empok Nor. He says that temporal-distortion waves are destroying the fabric of space-time.”

“What?” said Kane. “
Empok
Nor?”

“Are you sure it isn’t
Terok
Nor?” said Jadzia. She dropped to her haunches now, laid her hands on the Bynar’s shoulders. “Ask the Prophet if this Empok Nor is anywhere near—”

“It is not a Prophet,” said 111. She raised her bright blue eyes to Gold. “This Soloman—the Ferengi says he lost his bondmate.” Her voice quavered. Broke. “He says I died there.”

Gold took the Bynar’s left hand. Her fingers were cold, and they trembled. “111, does this—this Ferengi say why Soloman is there in the first place?”

“No. But I sense Soloman—waits.”

“For what?”

“I do not believe he knows, but there is a void in him.” She pressed a bunched fist to her chest. “But I cannot fill it. Much as I wish to help, I have my bondmate here.” The look she gave Gold was full of anguish. “I want 110 back, whole, and yet I feel such sorrow for this other. I do not know how he has managed to live.”

“I suppose he just went on.” Gold had to pause, clear his throat. “People do that.”

“Perhaps. But when love is gone,” 111 said as a tear inched down either cheek, “there is always emptiness because the heart knows what has been lost.”

“Yes,” said Gold. His eyes burned. “Yes, it does.”

“Well?” asked Gomez.

Nog shook his head. “I know I got the message through; 111’s code changed to assimilate it.”

“And Soloman?”

“He’s there, but it’s like he’s…locked in tight somehow. And I…” Nog trailed off, squinted at his data.

Gomez waited an anxious few seconds. “What?”

Nog began toggling in data. “I am so stupid. I know why Soloman can’t break free. You know how Betazoids have a paracortex that enhances their telepathic capabilities, and how Betazoid women have elevated levels of neurochemicals that further augment these abilities? Look at Soloman’s psilosynine level. It’s through the roof. That’s what’s happening with Soloman. The Bynars in that universe? They’re telepaths.”

Gomez gaped. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. It’s a logical extension, you ask me. What do the Bynars do? They interconnect with computer code. It all comes down to discharges along the electromagnetic spectrum. The brain works the same way. All neurons rely upon electrical potentials, whether neurochemically or electrically mediated. So it’s not so unbelievable that the Bynars of that universe also possess some form of telepathy and that some machines only respond to telepaths.”

“Okay,” said Gomez. “So what are they looking for?”

There was astonishment on Dax’s face, and Gold saw Gomez and Duffy glance at each other.

Then Gomez said, “Do we tell them?” She seemed unaware that she’d sidled closer to Duffy. “Maybe they can help.”

Gold gave 111’s hand a squeeze, then pushed to his feet. “I’m not sure if I’m relieved it’s not a Prophet. Another
us?
What makes them think they can help? We have no way of knowing if our two universes are compatible in any way.”

“Well, sir,” Duffy interrupted. He glanced at Sonya and then back at Gold. “Now that you mention it…”

“I just thought of something, a way to get Soloman out of there,” said Gomez. “You just said that Betazoids and other telepaths have high levels of psilosynine in their brains, right?”

“Yeah,” said Nog. “So?”

“So why not give Soloman a broad-range neural suppressant? Just…take him offline that way.”

“But that will make him incapable of communing with Empok Nor’s computer. Then we’ll be stuck,” said Nog.

“We’re stuck either way,” said Conlon. “Right now, we can talk to them but that’s all. We can’t control what’s happening here
or
there, and Soloman either can’t or won’t deactivate the system. Probably it’s the latter because they’re the ones who are looking for something, not us. Either they find it, or they don’t. Unless they shut down on their end, it won’t matter.”

It was her decision; Gomez knew it. “We give them a couple more minutes. Let’s see what they say.”

When Duffy finished, Gold looked from Duffy to Gomez, who’d gone very white. To Jadzia. Salek returned his stare then said, “That would seem to answer the question.”

“Yes, it does. And it means they’re probably telling the truth. That machine’s ripping their universe apart.” Gold tapped his combadge. “Feliciano, contact Captain Kira. Beam her directly to sickbay. Tell her I’ll explain when she’s aboard.”

Then Gold put a gentle hand on 111’s shoulder. “When Captain Kira gets here, this is what I want you to ask.”

“The Prophets? The
wormhole?
” asked Gomez. “
That
’s what this is about?”

“That’s what they say,” said Nog. “Seems they don’t have one, and they thought this device would help them find it.”

“It has, in a weird sort of way,” Gomez mused. “I mean, it reached out and found
this
version of Bajoran space. Maybe we’re the only universe with a wormhole.”

“Well, I’m not sure we should tell them,” said Conlon.

“What harm would it do?” asked Hawkins.

“You ever hear of the Prime Directive?”