Part 13 (1/2)
”Journal of Applied Sciences,” said Data crisply. ”Volume eighty-three, issue number nine, I believe.”
Wesley was calling up Data's references on one of the computer screens. He stared at it, scanning through to the table of contents and looked at it. Then Data actually jumped slightly as Wesley slammed a hand down on the counter. ”Aw nuts! How could I have missed that?”
”How indeed?” said Data. ”Certainly the voice interface from the computer would have referenced you to that article.”
Wesley, looking more despondent than Data had ever seen him, said, ”I haven't been using the voice interface.”
”What?”
”I shut off the voice interface. I've been scanning everything manually.”
Data blinked in confusion. That was foolish. It was the equivalent of shutting down the s.h.i.+p's warp engines and using oars instead. ”Wesley ... why?”
”It was giving me problems.”
”I think that very unlikely,” said Data, feeling a bit stung. While in Starfleet Academy, Data had been instrumental in doing some updating and redesigning of the computer system used aboard stars.h.i.+ps, including greater sophistication in its communication skills and expansion of its already formidable memory. ”The s.h.i.+p's computer is extremely ... what is the old-style term ... 'user-friendly.' ”
”Well I didn't like it,” replied Wesley in annoyance. ”I'd ask it research-oriented questions, and it would say 'Purpose of research?' ”
”It's designed to do that,” said Data, ”in order to be as specific as possible in its replies. Its efficiency is increased.”
”Yeah. But when I say 'Investigating cure for the Rot,' it just says back 'No cure at present.' I get enough of that from humans. I don't need a machine telling me that too. So if the computer's not going to be on my side, I don't have to talk to it.”
Now Data knew something was seriously wrong. ”Wes ... the computer can't be on anyone's side. It's just a ... ” Then he paused. He was about to dismiss the computer in the same way that the recently arrived Dr. Pulaski dismissed himself when the subject of his humanity was raised. It was most annoying. Was it possible that ... the computer could become annoyed, too? There were the legends of one computer, over three hundreds years ago, that had become upset with the human occupants of a s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+p, and the results had been unpleasant. Besides, what if the computer had feelings. Ridiculous? Any more ridiculous, he wondered, than he himself?
Opting quickly to change the subject, Data said, ”Wesley, if you would like, I will be happy to aid you in whatever way I can when I am no longer needed on the bridge.”
Wesley smiled raggedly. ”Thanks, Data. It's appreciated. But I'll be fine. Really.”
The screen blinked out.
And Data wasn't sure which human trait Wesley was displaying just then ... lying, or kidding himself.
”I hope these quarters will be to your satisfaction.”
Kobry stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly, nodding. ”I have had much worse, I a.s.sure you.”
”Good.” Picard and Kobry were alone, the rest of the Klingons having been shown to their quarters nearby. Picard took a step forward and said, ”I need to talk with you about a rather delicate subject.”
”That is supposedly my specialty,” said Kobry. He was wearing a large ring on his right hand, and he had now, to Picard's mild surprise, flipped open the top, revealing that it was hollow. He had removed a small vial from his suitcase and opened it, revealing its contents of round, blue pills. He transferred several of them into his ring and looked up innocently as Picard watched him. ”For my health,” Kobry explained. ”Something of great concern to me. A Klingon does not live to be my age if health is not of paramount concern.”
”I must admit, I cannot recall seeing a Klingon of your advanced years.”
Kobry again gave that small, intriguing smile. ”The advantage of my stature, Captain. I'm a smaller target. Now ... that matter you wish to discuss?”
Picard resisted the temptation to inquire about Kobry's stature, particularly since it was none of his d.a.m.ned business. ”Yes ... that matter. Before the Kreel come aboard, I am going to request that your guards turn over their weapons to me for safekeeping.”
Kobry looked mildly amused. ”I thought you might.”
”Will that be a problem?”
”That depends on how you define 'problem.' ”
Picard gave silent thanks that, with an opening like that, Data wasn't in the room. ”You're implying that your men will object.”
”To put it succinctly.”
”You could order them to.”
”That I could. But since their first priority is to protect me, it is very likely that they will be ... reluctant ... to follow the order.”
”Nevertheless, I must insist. Once the Kreel come aboard, the slightest argument could lead to a phaser pulled in anger. I would much prefer not to put that temptation at hand.”
The door buzzed and Gava entered. She smiled at Picard and said to Kobry, ”You are comfortable, Honorable Kobry?”
”Quite. The captain here wishes my men to turn over their weapons. I was apprising him of the difficulty of that.”
”You are saying that, if we ask them to hand over their phasers, they won't do it?” asked Picard.
”Oh no, I'm not saying that at all. In fact, they probably will hand over their phasers since this is, after all, a diplomatic mission.”
”Then what is the difficulty?”
”The difficulty,” said Gava, ”is that each of those Klingon bodyguards you see has at least eleven weapons on him.”
Picard's eyes widened. ”Eleven?”
”At least,” affirmed Gava cheerfully.
”But I only saw the phasers.”
”Of course,” said Kobry. ”That's all you're meant to see. With Klingon warriors, it's always a matter of pride, finding new and interesting places on one's person that a weapon can be hidden. Remove their phasers if it will satisfy your sense of decorum, Captain. Gava will accompany you, to relay that that is my wish in this matter. But disarm my men? Very difficult. The only way you'll detect every weapon is with detailed sensor scans, and once detected, you'll never manage to get my people to part with those anyway. They'll fight to the death first.”
”Yes, 'death first' seems to be a rallying cry these days,” said Picard ruefully. ”Very well then. I believe I will take you up on your suggestion to remove the phasers. At least give the Kreel a cosmetic belief that no overt threats are intended.”
”As you wish.”
”My concern is for the civilians aboard this s.h.i.+p. I do not want hostilities to break out aboard the Enterprise.”
”None of us does, Captain. Well ... actually, I should qualify that statement. I don't. You don't. Hopefully, at least one member of the Kreel diplomatic party doesn't. Other than that,” and he shook his head, ”my people are spoiling for a fight. It would not take a great deal to set them off.”
Picard turned to go, then looked back at the small Klingon. ”This is going to be a very tense trip.”
Kobry smiled. ”Stimulating, isn't it?”
Picard walked out, Gava right behind him. They were met in the corridor by Worf who said, ”The honor guard has been settled in their quarters, Captain.”