Part 21 (1/2)
The Kreel sat down on the ground across from him, balancing himself with his ma.s.sive arms. ”Could it have something to do with the Rot?”
Jaan shot him a look that was pure poison. ”How in the name of Kolker do you know about that? What is it, on d.a.m.ned subs.p.a.ce radio or something?”
”Oh, matters have a way of being found out,” said Aneel, giving silent thanks to that chattering young girl in the corridors.
”Great. Well, if you know of my problem, then I'm sure you can imagine that I'm not in the greatest of moods.” Jaan stood to leave and pain lanced through his chest, knocking the breath from him. He staggered, moaned, and fell back. The Kreel made no effort to catch him or aid him in any way.
”Feel your body shutting down?” said Aneel without a hint of sympathy. ”Blood not pumping the way it used to? Arms and legs forgetting how to obey commands?”
”Shut up.”
”Getting harder to see these days, isn't it?”
”Just shut up!” said Jaan with a fury that almost drained him. ”Just leave me the h.e.l.l alone.”
Aneel, of course, did not move. ”You know,” he grunted, ”I was one of the first to investigate h.e.l.lhole.”
”What?” said Jaan, tired and disinterested.
”h.e.l.lhole. Oh, the official designation is DQN 1196. But we call it h.e.l.lhole. The place where all the advanced weaponry was found.”
”So?”
”So ... that's what the Federation and the Klingons think was found there, since that's all they've seen.”
Jaan shook his head uncomprehendingly. ”So?” he said again.
”So ... what if I told you that wasn't all we found?”
”I don't think I could be less interested.”
”What if I told you that we could cure the Rot?”
It took a moment or two for what he was saying to sink in. ”Cure ... ?”
”The Rot, yes.”
Jaan couldn't believe it. ”That's-that's ridiculous.”
”Why ridiculous?”
”You just”- he shook his head-”you just happened to find a bunch of weapons, and while there you also just happened to find a cure for the disease I just happened to have. You must think I'm some sort of idiot.”
”I didn't say we found a cure just for what you have. There's cures there for virtually every known disease. One of them is for any disease that attacks the central nervous system and the respiratory system, such as the Rot. But”- he shrugged-”feel free not to believe me. It's of little consequence to me.”
He stood and started to walk away, and was actually a dozen paces away before Jaan said, ”Wait.”
Got him, thought Aneel, before he turned and said, ”Yes?”
”What do you want?”
”Want?” said Aneel.
”Yes, want,” said Jaan impatiently, ”and don't try that innocent routine with me. It doesn't work.”
”Speaking of routines,” replied Aneel, and, suddenly, he grabbed Jaan by the s.h.i.+rtfront and hauled the elf to his feet. For a brief moment, fear ribboned through him as the Kreel snarled in his face. ”Don't bother trying that little mind-push trick with me. I helped dissect a Selelvian once, so I know everything you fools can do. You can't push me into giving you the cure if I don't want to, and if you try, I'll give you a second smile just under your chin. Is that understood?”
Numbly, Jaan nodded.
Aneel smiled, and let Jaan go. ”Good. Now, in answer to your question-we want just one thing. Something I believe that you can help us with.”
”And ... and if I help you with that, then ... ”
”Then, when we arrive at h.e.l.lhole, I'll give you the cure for the Rot. Do we have an agreement?”
Jaan gulped deeply. He didn't trust the Kreel, not for a moment. But he was offering Jaan more than anyone else had-except for the beleagured Wesley-namely hope.
What if he was lying? But what if he was telling the truth?
Jaan had everything to gain and nothing to lose. When you're dying, certain priorities rearrange themselves.
”All right,” said Jaan. ”What do I have to do?”
”We call it quits for now.” Geordi sighed.
Data stared down at the alien weapon, commiserating with his friend. The rest of the tech crews were already dispersing back to their usual a.s.signments.
”Perhaps,” said Data slowly, ”we were not meant to figure out the workings of this weapon.”
”Sorry, Data, I don't buy that. I don't believe in that 'there's some things men aren't meant to know' stuff.” Geordi shook his head. ”Whatever we want to know, whatever we want to do, we should be able to know it and do it. The rest is just making excuses, that's all.”
”No, you don't understand, Geordi. I mean perhaps someone-”
”Or something,” said Geordi. ”That's always got to go together.”
”Very well,” said Data agreeably. ”Someone or something does not want us to discover how this weapon works. It wants to make sure that we return to the planet of its origin in order to find the answers. Perhaps ... in order to make contact.”
Geordi shook his head. ”Why? Why go to all that trouble?”
”I do not know,” said Data. ”I do know this: There have been a lot of 'loose ends', if you will, in our exploration of the galaxy.” He paced the confines of the engineering deck in a comfortingly human manner. ”Artifacts, discoveries, and even some of our own recent encounters with ent.i.ties that were beyond our comprehension. All of which would seem to indicate a sort of master race, perhaps dropping clues for us to discover.”
”Or just going on about their business and not really caring about us one way or the other,” offered Geordi. ”Don't read too much into things, Data. Whoever this omniscient race of yours is, maybe they're just lousy about picking up after themselves.”
”Or maybe,” said Data, ”this has all been some sort of test.”
”Oh G.o.d, don't say that,” moaned Geordi. ”After Q, and everything else we've been through, a test is definitely the last thing we need.”