by Неизвестный
"I know what's going on inside your mind right now" McHogue leaned forward, his voice dropping to a soothing confidentiality. "I really have come to be something of an expert on these matters. The exposure you had to the cortical-induction modules and their effects—there's a definite persistence factor associated with them that you don't encounter with your regulation, unmodified holosuites. It has to do with the intensity of the hallucination produced by the CI technology—after all, it works upon the actual neurofibers inside one's skull, rather than on input buffered by passage through the peripheral sense organs. Even ordinary reality—this stuff that's supposedly around us right now—is just something that you see and hear and taste." A sweep of McHogue's hand took in the surrounding office, the station and universe beyond. "So in that regard, the CI technology's reality is more real than this one. Or so it seems—it's no wonder that parts of your brain have gotten a little confused."
Sisko made no reply. The sensation of everything around him being essentially false had abated. He rubbed a finger against the desktop's surface. That seemed real enough—at least for the time being.
"What most people in this kind of situation worry about," continued McHogue, "is whether they might be caught up in some sort of self-perpetuating hallucination, a completely enfolding loop of artificially generated realities."
"The thought had crossed my mind." Sisko kept his voice level, as though he were talking about nothing more ominous than the bills of lading on the main pylon. "For all I know, I'm not sitting in my private office at all. Perhaps I'm still in the holosuite with you and all the rest of the CI module's effects inside my brain, and I've been fooled into thinking that the experience is over."
"A common fear, Commander, but a fallacious one." McHogue shook his head. "That's one of the oldest philosophical chestnuts about the holosuite technology in general—it goes back a long way. You can relax; in actual practice, rather than mere theory, it's simply impossible. An infinite regress of that nature, hallucinations inside hallucinations, is rather like trying to multiply by zero in ordinary mathematics. Think about it, Commander: to achieve an infinitely self-perpetuating hallucination would require a time-dilation effect equal to infinity itself. Yet the holosuite that you stepped into can, of necessity, be no more than a subset of infinity. There are real-world limits to what you can pull off along those lines; to even attempt it immediately raises the holosuite's drain upon its outside power sources on an exponential level. The whole thing 'grounds out,' as it were, and you're immediately dumped back out into reality. This reality, Commander."
"I suppose I'll have to accept your reasoning. . . ."
"You don't have a lot of alternatives." McHogue leaned back from the desk. "If you're having trouble believing that all this is really happening—that you're sitting in your office having this meeting with us—it's going to make our discussions very difficult. The little spiel I just gave you doesn't come simply from kindheartedness on my part, Commander—I dislike negotiating with someone who doubts my existence, even as I'm sitting face-to-face with them."
"Very well." The black-clad figure's smug delivery had a restorative effect on Sisko; his growing irritation at the lecture had burned away the last residual doubts. When he had first encountered McHogue, in the holosuite's perpetual summer landscape, the desire to get his hands around the man's throat had been irresistible. A vestige of that impulse flared up inside him now. That would be one way, he thought grimly, of finding out what's real. He pushed the notion away; as of now, he had to treat this person as an official representative of the Bajoran government. "How's this: I'll just deal with what I see right now, and I'll reserve my judgment until later as to whether it's real or not."
He turned toward the other person in the room, before McHogue could reply. "General Aur—if you'd care to join us, perhaps we could get down to business."
The general took the other chair in front of the desk. "I trust you'll give our Minister of Trade your full cooperation, Commander." He indicated McHogue with a brief nod. "One of our new government's first acts was to make an official exemption to the requirement that all top-level ministers be Bajoran natives. Mr. McHogue brings some unique qualifications to the position, that we felt made him the perfect choice."
"I can well imagine."
"So in the future, I expect all your dealings with our government will be through him. He has our complete trust and authority. I came along on this trip just to assure you of that."
"Really?" Sisko reached over and turned the screen of his computer panel toward Aur. "I could show you some very interesting things about your new minister. Little details of his past career—"
"We know all about that, Commander." The general patted McHogue's arm. "Let's just say he has a colorful background."
"That's putting it mildly." Sisko ignored the Minister of Trade's smile. "There's about a dozen recent murders aboard Deep Space Nine that can be linked to some involvement on his part."
Aur shrugged. "Regrettable, but . . . perhaps necessary. For the future of Bajor. I'm just sorry they happened on your watch, Commander."
The last comment was enough of a needle to penetrate Sisko's facade of politeness. He turned toward McHogue. "So what exactly are we going to talk about, then?"
McHogue's smile vanished. "I've made a better offer to the Bajoran government. Better than the one that was made by you and the Federation. Let's face it: Bajor may not have much, but it has one thing that's of incredible value. And the Federation's offered the Bajorans not much more than zero for it.
"The wormhole, of course." McHogue pointed to the viewports. "It's a shame that it's not visible all the time, rather than just when a ship passes through it. If it were, you might be a little more mindful of why you're here."
"I know very well why I'm here." Sisko let his voice grate even more harshly. "And why Starfleet is here."
"Oh, yes; of course." McHogue glanced over at General Aur, raised his eyebrows, then came back to Sisko. "Are you going to give us that old song-and-dance about developing Bajor into a major locus for interstellar commerce and research?"
"It's hardly a song-and-dance. The wormhole is the doorway to the entire Gamma Quadrant—"
"Exactly. And that's why the Federation has kept you and your crew here to sit on it. Doesn't it seem a little odd to you that it's already been established that the wormhole is Bajoran property, yet somehow Bajor doesn't control access to it?"
"That objection has been heard here before." He could feel his spine stiffening. "And as I made clear to representatives of the previous government, Bajor is simply not ready to take over the administration of this station. When that time comes—"
General Aur interrupted angrily. "The previous government was composed of traitors and spineless compromisers. That's why the Bajoran people rose up and got rid of them. The so-called representatives you met with before were slaves to the colonial mentality that served the interests of the Cardassians for so long—and now the Federation would like to exploit us the same way." He gripped the arms of the chair thrusting his scarred face forward. "You're not dealing with those people anymore, Commander; you're dealing with true Bajorans now."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen; let's take it down a level, why don't we?" McHogue smiled and spread his hands apart. "There's no need to get overly upset about these things. It's been my experience over the years that all politics, when you boil them down, are essentially business matters. And business is always something that's best conducted with a certain measure of . . . cold-bloodedness." The smile grew broader. "And then we can all shake hands and be friends afterward."
"That's not likely to happen." Sisko returned his gaze to General Aur. "What is this 'better offer' that this person has made to you?"
McHogue answered. "It's the opportunity for Bajor to become something besides a glorified rest stop and maintenance center for the Federation. This talk of 'developing' Bajor is a giant scam, and you know it. The Federation gets control
of the wormhole, and with it the access to the Gamma Quadrant, and the Bajorans get to wait on tables and maneuver fuel cells into position on the vessels passing through—we're talking your basic unskilled labor, Commander. Service jobs. If you were a businessman such as myself, I'd expect you to be more familiar with the principle that the real money in any enterprise comes from holding an equity position in it—real equity, and not just this nominal ownership that the Federation will allow to Bajor. Without real control over this station and the wormhole, there's never going to be a time when Bajor gets anything other than the thinnest sliver of the pie."
Sisko shook his head. "General Aur, if this is the line—the sales pitch—that has been used on you, all I can say is that he's completely misrepresented the intent of the Federation here."
Aur regarded the commander coldly. "Our Minister of Trade has stated some very convincing arguments."
"But they're totally absurd!" exploded Sisko.
"Is that so?" McHogue's dark eyes fastened onto the figure opposite him. "Then maybe you can explain a few things about your ongoing research activities here. For the sake of argument, let's just say that the Bajorans should be satisfied with the slice of the pie you're offering them; that their share of the revenues from the exploitation of the wormhole will be much bigger than what I've told them will be the case. Isn't it true, Commander, that you've already established that the stable wormhole that's been discovered here is not a naturally occurring phenomenon, but an artificially created one?"
Sisko couldn't detect what McHogue was driving at; he nodded slowly. "That appears to be the case; we've assumed that the intelligent creatures we've encountered inside the wormhole did in fact create it—"
"And isn't it also true that a large proportion of the Federation's research efforts scheduled to take place here at DS9 will be devoted to finding out just how the stable wormhole was created?"
"But . . . of course—"
McHogue sat back with a smug expression, as though he had just won a debating point. "You say 'of course' so easily, Commander. You don't even try to conceal the fact that this research regarding the wormhole is so obviously for the benefit of the Federation, and against the interests of the world whose property it supposedly is. The wormhole is Bajor's one remaining possession of value; its scarcity, its uniqueness, is what makes it valuable—and the Federation would like nothing more than to find out how to make billion more wormholes! Right now, the Bajorans own the only practical route to the Gamma Quadrant; the Federation's scientists could discover tomorrow the secret to creating a stable wormhole, and the value of Bajor's asset would be reduced to approximately zero."
"Well, Commander Sisko?" The general peered sharply at him. "What's your answer to that?"
In frustration, he struck the desktop with his fist. "You have to understand—the results of finding out the wormhole's secrets would be enormous. The benefits for every world in the Federation would be almost incalculable."
"Ah." McHogue smiled. "But Bajor isn't part of the Federation. Is it?"
"Not yet—but—"
"Nor will it ever be." General Aur broke into the discussion. "Not if we have any say in the matter. Even if the Federation's offer to us was legitimate—and I've seen no evidence that the Federation has our interests at heart any more than did the Cardassians—why should we accept it? Why should we become one among many, spreading the wealth that will come from the exploitation of the wormhole among worlds and peoples with whom we have nothing in common? It's far better—from our viewpoint, at least—to keep Bajor's riches for the sake of Bajorans."
"But there are things of value that you would get from membership in the Federation. The technology alone—"
"If there's anything we want from the Federation," said General Aur, "then we'll buy it from you. Because we'll able to do that."
"And just what do you think you'll sell, for Bajor to have kind of capital?" If the general wanted to discuss hard economic realities, then Sisko was ready for him. "There's a built-in limit to how much you can charge for access to the wormhole and passage to and from the Gamma Quadrant. A great deal, perhaps even a majority, of the traffic will be speculative in nature, voyages of exploration to see what's exactly out there and whether any profitable use can be made of it. That kind of investigation doesn't pay off for a long time. By turning your back on the Federation's assistance, you'd be condemning the people of Bajor to decades, perhaps centuries, of continuing poverty. After their having freed themselves from the Cardassians and having a taste of the possibilities that were just beginning to open for them, do you really think your own followers will have much enthusiasm for going down a path like that?"
"The Bajoran people are used to sacrifice, Commander." Aur folded his arms across his chest. "If such hardships were required for the greater glory of Bajor, they would see the wisdom of it."
"Fortunately for all concerned," said McHogue, "there aren't going to be any hardships. I'm not in the business of giving people a rougher time than they've already had. I'm here to make life better for everyone." His smile showed again, even more radiant. "You as well, Commander Sisko. From the little bits of time we've been able to spend together, have to admit that I've developed a certain . . . interest in some of your more personal concerns. I'd like to help you with those."
"I've seen the results of your 'help.'" Sisko felt his own glare tightening his face. "Let's just keep this discussion limited to Bajoran affairs."
"As you wish." McHogue's smile faded. "You want to talk cash flow? Fine. Because I've got news for you. The planet Bajor isn't going to be flat broke anymore, the way that the Federation has kept it. Bajor has something even more valuable than the wormhole to sell. Something that everyone else in the galaxy will be happy to spend their money on, starting right now."
"And what might that be?"
"License, Commander. Pure, unadultered license. The permission to do whatever one wants, and a place to do it in—as long as the bill can be paid." With one hand, McHogue made a sweeping gesture, matching the salesman's fervor rising in his voice. "We have here an unprecedented opportunity to re-create the long-neglected—but essential—aspect of the great frontier communities of the past. This is tradition, Commander; history—and humanoid nature—is on our side. We're talking unhindered personal anarchy here; isn't that what everybody wants? It's just that it's usually hard to pull off, I admit. But Bajor is in a unique situation for making this a viable commercial proposition. I wouldn't be here, otherwise."
Sisko gave a deep sigh. "This is what you've sold the new Bajoran government on?" He glanced over at Aur. "I'm surprised, General. But also a little disappointed. You've been dealing with a con man, a scam artist. This is one of the oldest money-for-nothing schemes in the galaxy. Megacasinos, pleasure emporia, worlds given over to satisfying every possible vice and indulgence—they all sound like a good idea at the beginning. But then they inevitably collapse, and the operators are left with nothing but a planetful of broken Dabo tables and empty brothels. When the cash registers stop ringing, and every other possible revenue source has been allowed to fall into ruin, it's not a pretty sight."
"You know, I expected exactly this kind of reaction from someone in your position." McHogue shook his head slowly. "After all, you do represent not just the Federation's interests, but also its rather, shall we say, antiquated morals. And in my experience, there's nothing that Starfleet officers like better putting on their little uniforms and zipping around the galaxy to look down their noses at what other people do for a living."
"In your case, that's not difficult."
"Oh—" McHogue made a show of wincing. "Careful, Commander; remember, you're talking to a minister of the Bajoran government. But then again, if you want to dispense with all the diplomatic niceties, I can handle that." He leaned across the desk, jabbing a finger toward Sisko. "The Bajorans are not quite the fools that you and all the rest of the Federation take them to be. They didn't go for the economic dev
elopment plan I presented them because they were suckers for a fast line. I gave them hard facts and figures, about just what kind of money they can expect to generate."
"The numbers add up," said General Aur. "That's why we put Mr. McHogue in charge of the Trade Ministry."
"Did he also tell you what the Federation's reaction to your business enterprise was most likely to be, and the effect that would have on your profits?"
"Fortunately, Commander, you're bound by Starfleet's own Prime Directive. You're forbidden to meddle with the internal affairs of a non-Federation world."
Sisko nodded. "That's true, of course. Bajor and any other world is free to go to hell in whatever particular handbasket it chooses. But if you believe that the Federation has no other courses of action available to it, then you're sadly mistaken. There's quite a bit that we can do to minimize the negative effects of such an enterprise as you're contemplating. The Federation can place an embargo on such a rogue world, effectively sealing it off from commerce with all other Federation members. That greatly diminishes the chances of economic success for anyone taking that route of total, unhindered personal anarchy. So much so that all the worlds that have tried it in the past eventually saw the light, and wound up abandoning that course, so as to reap the benefit achieving full Federation membership."
"Ah, yes, the embargo tactic." A sneer formed on McHogue's face. "If the Federation doesn't get what it wants, it has other ways of bullying others into line. It's really too bad that that tactic has been successful so many times in the past. Too bad for you, Commander—because it's created a blind spot for you about the situation here. The Federation's embargoes have worked before because those worlds you employed them against had nothing else going for them except the behavior the Federation was so offended by; they had no other way of insuring that customers would come to their door for what they had to sell. But things are different here: Bajor has the wormhole. The Federation can't cut Bajor off, no matter how offensive or negative it might find our economic activities to be, without cutting itself off from the wormhole and the access to the Gamma Quadrant. And if the Federation should be so foolish as to be willing to pay that price, there are plenty of other political forces in the galaxy who are less prudish and more pragmatic than that. And they'd be happy to fill the vacuum created by the Federation's withdrawal and take advantage of the opportunities here. The Cardassians are still kicking themselves for giving up Bajor just before the wormhole was discovered. A Federation embargo would be perfect for letting them get back into the game as a significant force."