Part 19 (2/2)
”Unfair compet.i.tion, really,” commiserated Kobry. ”Compared to myself, anyone else is bound to come up short. Good day to the two of you.” He vanished behind the door.
Gava and Worf looked at each other.
”I have duties to attend to on the bridge,” he said.
”Of course. I certainly hope, however, you'll save your after-duty time for me.”
”You can rest a.s.sured of that.”
”I didn't intend to rest.”
”What's the prognosis, Doctor?”
Jaan sat up, swinging his legs down from the diagnostic bed. Pulaski was looking at the test results.
”Jaan ... ”
”Uh-oh.”
She held the test results against her chest. ” 'Uh-oh?' You can tell what I'm going to say, already?”
”It's the way you said my name-in the same tone as you would greet someone who's shown up unexpectedly at a party. By the way, I hear they may actually be making a party for the Klingons and the Kreel once we get to that planet we're heading for.”
”A party?” She shook her head. ”Klingons and Kreel, trying to be festive. I can't see it.”
”I understand it was Guinan's idea.”
”Oh. All right, then,” said Pulaski. ”Now ... I think, Jaan, that you should be trying to rest a bit more.”
”Why?”
”Because this is my first experience with this disease ... ”
”Mine too.”
” ... and,” she continued gamely, ”it's progressing faster than I would have liked to see it.”
”I should become an invalid, is that what you're saying?”
”No, that's not what I'm saying, Jaan,” she said. ”Just ... take it easy.”
”You said it's progressing faster. How much faster? Was six months overly optimistic?”
”I'm not sure,” she said. ”Perhaps. I don't want to alarm you.”
”Alarm me?” he said, and for the first time, she was getting a sense of barely-restrained anger. ”Alarm me?” And, suddenly furious, Jaan swept his arm around and knocked over a table of diagnostic tools. The noise brought a.s.sistants running from the med lab but Katherine gestured for them to stay back. ”How can I be more alarmed?” he shouted. ”Do you know how long my people live? Do you? Close to two centuries! We have time for everything!”
”Jaan ... ” she said.
But his fury, long pent-up, was bubbling over. ”But not me! No, not Jaan Baat-Utuul-Bayn-Devin! I get a stinking fraction of that because my d.a.m.ned parents had a d.a.m.ned disease! I'll never have children, Doctor! I'll never leave anything behind me!”
”What about your writings?” She tried to get near enough to touch him, to console him. ”You said your writings would-”
”To h.e.l.l with them! Do you think lifeless words can make up for the years I'm losing? At least Orange cares! At least he's trying to do something to help me. Why aren't you trying to find a cure for this?”
”Because other people, with more talent for research than I have, have been trying for years and haven't made any headway,” said Pulaski. ”I can't cure everything! No one can. I know what you want, Jaan. You want me, or Wesley, to look over the work that's been done and hit ourselves on the forehead and say, 'Of course! How could anyone have missed that? It's so simple!' and synthesize a cure for you from penicillin and coconut oil. It doesn't work that way! I know that. Wesley doesn't yet, but he'll realize it soon enough.”
She waited for his fury to continue mounting, to the point where he would have to be sedated, even lashed to a table. But it didn't happen. Instead, to her surprise, he pulled himself together, got a grip on himself. He forced himself to calm down, closed those marvelous eyes of his and, when he opened them, he was utterly composed.
”I'm sorry for the outburst, Doctor,” he said. ”I will try to slow down. Whatever you say.”
Katherine felt relief sweep over her, but that was quickly erased by another, stronger feeling that maybe Jaan's reaction of fury and hurt was the better one. That was out in the open, that was something that could be seen and dealt with. What actually seemed to be happening, though, was that he was fighting to bottle everything up.
How long, she wondered, before he erupted?
Had Picard been right? Should he have been taken off the s.h.i.+p, immediately? But no, she couldn't go back to Picard now. After all the trouble she'd gone to, after their head-on collision that she'd survived and won, she couldn't go back at this point and say, ”Captain, maybe you were right.” Not if it wasn't absolutely necessary.
She prayed she wasn't making a mistake.
At that moment, the door to sickbay opened. Pulaski turned and stared in surprise at the newcomer. ”Yes?” she said uncertainly. ”Can I help you?”
”You are the Doctor here?”
”Yes. Dr. Katherine Pulaski. And you are-?”
He smiled. ”The Honorable Kobry.” The half-size Klingon extended a hand. ”There is something of importance I need to discuss with you.”
Chapter Fifteen.
TWO DAYS HAD pa.s.sed since the signing of the Enterprise Pact, as it had quickly been named. The Klingons and the Kreel had made a conscious effort during that time to give each other as wide a berth as possible. Although neither side was overly thrilled with the accord, they were endeavoring to live by it-the Klingons because honor demanded it, and the Kreel because they wanted to show they were as good as, or better than, the Klingons.
Nevertheless, Picard made certain that, at all times, Enterprise security men or higher-ranking officials had a visible presence to subtly reinforce the Pact.
Its first major test came, naturally enough, in the Ten-Forward Room. It was a preferred location for both the Kreel and the Klingons, but thus far they had managed to miss each other.
This particular day, Deanna Troi had just come from a frustrated talk with Wesley Crusher. She had never seen a young man more in need of help-help which she was finding herself unable to provide. The boy was wasting away before her eyes.
His physical deterioration was marked. His eyes still had that look of burning determination in them, but there were dark circles under them. He spoke now in sharp, clipped sentences, as if he really didn't want to waste time talking. When Deanna had come with food, she'd had to resort to threatening to have him confined to sickbay unless he started eating. He'd finished what she'd brought while she was sitting there, so at least she had the knowledge that she'd accomplished some good, no matter how insignificant.
Now, as she was walking down a corridor, half-a-dozen Kreel came up to her from a side hallway. In the front was the one called Aneel, and even if she hadn't been an empath she would have known what he was thinking as he openly appraised her.
They fell in to step with her, and Aneel said, ”You're the Betazoid I've heard about, eh?”
His voice, his coa.r.s.e emotions, grated on her, but she would not let those emotions show. ”That's right. Are you enjoying the stay on our s.h.i.+p?” she asked, in an effort to be polite.
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