Strike Zone Part 19

"Or the extermination of the Klingons," said Aneel slowly.

"Or," replied Kobry, "the extermination of the Kreel. Are you willing to take that chance? To lose everything? My understanding is that the Kreel were battling for respect. So tell me, here and now, as a representative of your race ... which is of more importance-respect or genocide?"

Kobry had violated, at this point, one of his main rules for diplomacy, indeed for life; namely, never ask a question to which you do not already know the answer. The Kreel was still a wild card, his answer capable of going either way.

Still, he waited patiently for the response.

Aneel studied him a long time, then looked at the others in the room. He liked the way they were looking at him: with concern for what he was going to say, with a certain degree of fear as to what he was going to say. He was aware that he, Aneel, held in his hand the key to what direction matters would take.

And best of all, what he said right now didn't matter all that much, for he had other plans already developing in his mind. Definitely, that was best of all.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked slowly.

"A treaty?" said Tron incredulously.

The Klingons in the holding cell stood grouped around Kobry in a loose semicircle. As a precaution by Picard, Worf was standing just outside the cell. The holding force s.h.i.+eld was off at Kobry's request, so that he could address his people and have them feel less like they were prisoners.

Gava was hanging back, standing next to Worf. He felt her fingers brush in an "accidental" manner across his leg, and he took a half-step away. Now was certainly not the time for distractions.

"Yes," said Kobry. "I have signed a treaty with the Kreel amba.s.sador ... "

Several Klingons spat.

"Stop that!" said Kobry with the first real flash of anger any of them could recall seeing. "By the Emperor, it's like dealing with children! There will be no spitting at the mention of names. And that's final! Now, I have signed a treaty with the Kreel ... " He paused a moment, to make sure that his anti-expectoration order was being attended to, and then he continued. " ... amba.s.sador. Copies will be made available to each of you. It delineates the lines of cooperation between our two groups, and specifically designates the Enterprise, and the planet called DQN 1196, as neutral zones. Not strike zones. Do you understand? No matter what the provocation, there is to be no battle within these areas."

"And how," asked Tron disdainfully, "have the Kreel agreed to adhere to this treaty?"

"With their honor."

There were disbelieving snorts from the Klingons. "Honor?" said one of them. "The Kreel only know honor as something others have that they can use to their advantage."

"The Kreel," replied Kobry tightly, "whether we find them personally repellant or not, have grievances they feel must be answered, just as we do. These are grievances that must be worked out, just as the Federation and the Klingon Empire did with theirs. But before anything can be worked out, or discussed, we have to be able to look at each other without trying to kill one another. Now the Kreel have pledged not to hurl insults, nor to make any overt aggression against us."

"To act like perfect little gentlemen?" said Tron sarcastically.

"That's one way to put it. And, by the same token, we will behave in a like manner. Unless of course"- and he paused-"Klingons are incapable of behaving in as civilized a manner as Kreel."

Worf was filled with a large degree of admiration for the way the Honorable Kobry had phrased that. Naturally such a comment was designed to cut any Klingon to the quick.

It certainly worked in this instance. Almost as a unit, the Klingons squared their shoulders, their pride severely stung.

"Anything the greatest of Kreel can do can be matched by the lowliest of Klingons," said one of the guards sharply.

"I did not bring the lowliest of Klingons with me," Kobry said mildly, glancing at his fingernails. "I brought the best. Are you up to the challenge?"

They glanced at each other and Tron, taking a step forward, said, "A Klingon thrives on challenges. If the Kreel pretend to have a code of honor, then we can show them what a true code of honor is."

"Fine," replied Kobry. "I have the captain's permission that, should you agree to follow the terms of the treaty, your freedom to the s.h.i.+p is restored."

"That is fortunate," said one of the Klingons, a particularly burly fellow named Sklar. "We were concerned over the Honorable Kobry walking about unprotected."

Kobry sighed. "Don't be." He turned to Worf. "I'd like to return to my quarters, Lieutenant. I'm feeling somewhat fatigued."

Tron said briskly, "We will accompany you, sir."

"Oh, I think I'm safe enough with the lieutenant here. Make no mistake-if he were not Klingon, naturally I would need an escort. As it is, and considering we're in his environment, I'm certain I'm in safe hands. Correct, Worf?"

Worf nodded, surveying the Klingons in the holding cell. He tried to get a feel for what they were thinking, but they were masking it rather well. He got the distinct impression that Tron, for one, was not happy over what had been decided here this day.

The Honorable Kobry turned and started back for his quarters, with Worf to his left and Gava to his right. All three Klingons walked with even strides, Gava and Kobry looking resolutely ahead, while Worf cautiously scanned all sides of the corridor. He was expecting trouble. He was always expecting trouble, even when there seemed little likelihood. One could never be surprised by something that one was always expecting.

"Tron made a legitimate point," said Worf. "You should not be unescorted at any time."

Kobry made a dismissive wave. "Lieutenant, I was surviving long before I had any honor guard of any sort. I've gotten quite good at it. Do you know what the key to my survival is?"

"No, sir."

"Twofold. First, I'm a small target, as I said earlier. Second, I always know what's going on around me."

"I see."

They walked a few more steps.

"So I understand you and my daughter are lovers," said the Honorable Kobry.

The simple declaration threw both Gava and Worf out of step. Worf stared at Gava who gestured helplessly, making it clear she hadn't told her father.

"May I ask ... how you knew that, sir?" said Worf.

"Weren't you paying attention to what I just said?" asked Kobry in mild amus.e.m.e.nt. "About knowing everything that's going on around you?"

Worf looked at Gava again, and this time she said, "I didn't say anything about it, Father. I pride myself on being discreet. How did you-"

"If I counted on always being told everything, I would have been long gone by now," said Kobry. "a.s.sa.s.sins rarely say, 'I intend to kill you in a day or two.' One has to be able to perceive what is not being said. Body language, a gesture here, a look there. Detecting the unspoken. That is the key to survival, my child."

"Does the Honorable Kobry disapprove of my relations with his daughter?" said Worf stiffly.

At that, Kobry actually laughed. "The Honorable Kobry feels it's none of his d.a.m.ned business. I a.s.sume it's not against her will, and, you being a male Klingon, I'm certain it's not against yours."

They had arrived at Kobry's quarters, and the door slid open. Kobry turned and faced them. "My daughter is quite selective," said Kobry. "It speaks very highly of you that she has chosen you for a lover, Worf. It certainly confirms my initial opinion of you."

"Thank you, Honorable Kobry," replied Worf.

"For a woman like Gava"- and he looked at his daughter affectionately-"it's difficult to find someone she can respect."

"True," said Gava. She smiled in the same way that Kobry had. "I'm always comparing them to my father."

"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.