Part 8 (1/2)
Pulaski folded her arms. ”So you want to tell me what this is all about? And I can request privacy, if you so wish,” she said with a glance at Wesley.
Jaan didn't appear to understand what she was talking about. ”You mean Orange? No, it's okay. Actually,” he paused, ”I suspect you already know what 'this is about' and you're just extending me the courtesy of being the one to say it.”
”That's one interpretation,” said Pulaski evenly. ”You are aware of your condition, then.”
”Of course.”
Wesley looked from one to the other. ”Well I'm not aware,” he said in frustration.
For the first time since he'd known him, Wesley saw Jaan fumbling for words, looking for the best way to put something that was clearly uncomfortable for him. And when it became apparent that he was having difficulty, Pulaski stepped in.
”There's a very long, very complicated name for it,” she said, and Wesley knew from all those times watching his mother in action that this was an example of a doctor putting on her best bedside manner. ”The Selelvian nickname for it is 'the Rot.' It's genetically transmitted, and can strike at any time in the Selelvian life-cycle, although it usually doesn't hit until middle age.”
”Right.” Jaan grimaced. He wiped off the sweat that was beading on his forehead, and from nowhere, it seemed, Pulaski had a cloth in her hand and was dabbing at it. ”You know me, Orange. Always beating the odds. Maybe about three, four percent get it as young as I do. Young, relatively speaking, that is.”
”Okay,” said Wesley slowly, as if it were taking time to sink in. ”Okay, then. What's the cure, Doctor? How do we make him better?”
A long sigh issued from Katherine Pulaski. ”I can treat the symptoms, Wes,” she said slowly. ”Relieve the pain of the abdominal cramps. The headaches, the nausea ... h.e.l.l, when the drowsiness and lethargy sets in, I could pump Jaan so full of drugs that his feet won't touch the floor, although I would really prefer not to, since they would impair his thinking.”
”No,” said Jaan flatly.
”I thought not. But the disease itself ... I'm sorry, Jaan, but you must know there's nothing I can do.”
”Yes, I know.”
Wesley looked from one to the other in disbelief. ”What do you mean, nothing? There's got to be a cure for it.”
”There's no cure.”
”A vaccine.”
”There's no vaccine,” Pulaski almost snapped, but reined herself in. It wasn't any easier on her than on them to discuss it, but she had to be the one in control. Besides, she wasn't about to start explaining you can't vaccinate against a genetic disease. ”I'm sorry, Wes ... Jaan. They simply haven't managed to develop one, yet. That's why when Selelvians mate they undergo blood tests for it, but unfortunately there is always a margin of error in those tests.”
”See?” said Jaan with a cheerfulness he didn't feel. ”I beat the odds again, Orange. Twice. I'm really lucky, aren't I?”
”So you're ... ” Wesley could barely put coherent thoughts together, much less sentences. ”So you're ... you're going to die? Is that what you're telling me? Is that what's going to happen, Doctor?”
”Wesley, we all-”
”Don't say it!” Wesley practically shrieked. He backed away from Pulaski as if she'd suddenly grown fangs. He stabbed an index finger at her. ”Don't say, 'We all die someday, and we shouldn't be afraid,' and that 'Death is natural.' Dying when you're old is natural. But dying when you're young, when you're ... ” He couldn't complete the sentence, and said instead, ”How long?”
Pulaski looked from Wesley's agonized face to Jaan's stoic expression. She wondered briefly whether Jaan had reached the point where he had accepted what was happening inside his body, or whether he was simply bottling it all in and was a time bomb ticking down. ”That depends,” she said. ”On the progression of the disease, on Jaan's-”
”HOW LONG?!”
It was a shout ripped from deep within him, and Wesley's yelled question brought all activity in the sickbay to a complete halt. Everyone was looking at him in astonishment, and he didn't care.
Her voice was so quiet in contrast to his that it was remarkable. ”Six months to a year,” she said.
He repeated what she had said, mouthing it in disbelief. He shook his head, and it was as if he were staring inward, trying to deal with what he'd been told. Something in the tumblers of his mind clicked.
”Your parents,” he said. ”You told me weeks ago that they'd been killed in some sort of accident. Back on Selelvia. That was what had made you go off into s.p.a.ce, because you wanted to get away from the memories of that.” He paused, not wanting to believe it, because Pulaski had said it was an inherited disease, and if what he thought was true, then against all hope it confirmed it. ”That ... that was a lie.”
Slowly Jaan nodded.
”They ... they died of this disease, didn't they?”
With a sigh Jaan said, ”Look, Orange ... ”
”Why didn't you tell me?”
”How could I?” Jaan's calm was in stunning contrast to Wesley, Pulaski thought, especially considering that it was Jaan who was dying. Then again, the elf had had time to adjust to it. Or maybe he was still trying not to think about it. ”Look, Orange ... it's not the kind of thing that's easy to discuss. And you'd been through enough. Bad enough that you lost your father ... ”
”That was years ago,” said Wesley. ”I was a kid. It's over.”
Katherine Pulaski pursed her lips. She had known Bev Crusher back when her husband had been killed. Bev had been a wreck, and Wesley had hardly been the little stoic ... no, wait, she realized. He had been. His mother had come unglued, but young Wesley had been tight-lipped, steel-jawed- the ”man of the house,” as countless relatives kept seeming to say of him. Tough, supportive ... he had seemed harder hit by news of Jaan than news of his own father. Or maybe she was imagining it, separated as she was by the long years.
Unaware of what was running through the doctor's mind, Jaan was saying, ”And then your mom left you ... ”
Wesley blew air through his teeth. ”She didn't leave me, for pity's sake. She got a terrific career opportunity. She knew I was in good hands here. I told her not to pa.s.s it up. She was willing to stay here, and I told her she would be crazy to let a shot at head of Starfleet medicine go past ... ” His voice trailed off and he snapped his fingers. ”I'll contact my mom! She'd be up on the latest research! She'd ... ”
”I can a.s.sure you,” said Pulaski with just a hint of pique, ”that I am up on it.”
”Good. So there has to be something.”
”There isn't.”
”There has to be!”
”Wesley,” she said tiredly, ”research isn't my strength. But I'll be happy to make all the current medical knowledge available to you. Obviously the time you spent with your mother has rubbed off on you. You seem to have a better-than-layman's knowledge of medicine ... ”
”Why shouldn't I?” said Wesley bitterly. ”You know me. Wesley Crusher, the 'Brain Trust.' The sixteen-year-old computer on legs.”
”You're getting yourself confused with Data again,” said Jaan softly. ”Listen, Orange-”
”No, you listen,” said Wesley, and he stalked to Jaan's side. ”You'll beat this thing. You will. That's all. You'll just beat it. Doctor, I'll take you up on your offer. About the medical journals. Hang on, Jaan. We'll do it. You and me.” He turned and walked quickly out of sickbay.
There was silence for a long moment, and then Pulaski said, ”Well, that could certainly have gone better.”
”Orange is a funny guy,” said Jaan. ”What he can do is way up here”- and he raised his right hand high over his head-”and what he can handle is about here”- and his left hand was six inches lower. ”So when you get to the area in between, well ... weird things can happen with him.”
”Mm-hmmm. But now the question becomes, what's going to happen with you?”
”Pardon?”
”We should rotate you off-s.h.i.+p immediately.”
”But why?” protested Jaan.
”Impaired efficiency.”