Strike Zone Part 21

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."

Ensign Tom Chafin, who had been very vocal in his opinion that Wesley Crusher was an idiot, had been rea.s.signed. Picard, deciding that the opinionated crew member needed a change of scenery, kicked him over to security under Worf's generous stewards.h.i.+p. Worf, for his part, had other things to do than train a new recruit, so he had a.s.signed him a post that was nominally important and yet sufficiently safe that he couldn't get into too much of a mess.

He was guarding the weapons room. The door had been specifically encoded to respond to his voice alone-aside from the voices of Picard, Riker and Worf, and Chafin considered it a very responsible position. He would stand there, smiling at all the pa.s.sing crew members, feeling very proud of himself.

Usually the weapons room didn't require a guard, but considering the warlike att.i.tude of the two current amba.s.sadorial parties, it was an extra precaution, one well worth taking.

So Chafin stood there, feeling significant, and when Jaan walked up to him and greeted him, he returned the greeting in a boisterous mood.

Jaan wasted no time. Coming close in on Chafin, he said, eyes glinting, "You know, Tom ... remember that charming young lady you and I discussed a month or so back?"

"Amy?" Chafin's eyebrows went up a notch. "What about her?"

"I ran in to her." He lowered his voice. "She wants you, Tom."

"You're-you're kidding."

"I'm not kidding."

"Oh lord, I was praying she might notice me."

"She did," said Jaan. He drew in a step closer. "Here's what you're going to do, Tom. Are you listening?"

"I'm listening, Jaan."

"You're going to her quarters. You're telling her you know she's been craving you. I bet you'll get lucky."

"You-you really think so?"

"I guarantee it."

"But ... " His devotion to duty was causing him to waver. "But I can't leave my post ... "

In his Knack-induced confusion, however, he was easy pickings for Jaan. "It's no problem," said Jaan.

"It's not? I was trying to think of some way to get around it ... "

"I'm going to do you a big favor, Tom. I'm going to stay here and watch your post for you."

"Really?"

"What are friends for?"

"Oh Jaan, this is ... " Overcome with emotion, Chafin embraced him. "You're the greatest. You really are."

"I know. Oh, by the way ... how do you get the door to open?"

"Well, that's easy," said Chafin, and in a loud voice, he said, "Computer voice code and match. Open weapons-room door."

The door obediently hissed open, as Chafin, eager to leave, said, "You see? Of course, it only responds to my voice, or a couple of the bra.s.s."

"Oh, of course," said Jaan, nonchalantly stepping in through the doorway. His presence broke the electric eye, and the door, designed to provide safety for crew members, did not close.

"Well, great! I'll see you later, then!" With great joy, Chafin ran off down the hallway.

From around the corner at the opposite end came Aneel. He glanced at Chafin's departing form and said, "What did you do?"

"Gave him a blind date. Come on," said Jaan hurriedly. "Grab what you need."

Aneel was carrying a small sack that could easily be carried unnoticed over one's shoulder. He stepped into the weapons room and smiled.

Phasers. They were small. They were elegant. They were deadly. They were what he was looking for.

He stuffed a dozen in the sack while Jaan continued to stand in the door, preventing it from closing. "Hurry up!" Jaan hissed. "Move it!"

"Afraid, elf?" sneered Aneel, drawing the top of the bag tight. He stepped out of the room and Jaan moved out of the way of the door, which now shut securely.

They moved off quickly down the hallway, made it to a turbolift, and within moments were in Jaan's quarters. Jaan sank into a soft couch and said, "We did it."

"Of course. And by the time Chafin returns to his post-"

"He'll be confused as anything," said Jaan. "He won't even remember clearly that I was there. I made sure of that. The one who's going to have some explaining to do is the girl he's going after. She'll have no idea what led him on. Ultimately, neither will he." And now Jaan was shaking his head. "I don't understand. What did you need phasers for?"

"Because your beloved captain took our weapons away, and that puts us at a disadvantage. And, in arming ourselves, it's preferable for us to have something small and discreet. After all, we don't want them to know we're prepared for trouble."

"But ... that's all it is?"

"Of course," said Aneel with false cheerfulness.

"Just being cautious, that's all. We don't want trouble. We even signed a treaty. We're just being prepared, that's all. Nothing wrong with being prepared, is there?"

"No," said Jaan slowly. "No, I suppose not. And when we reach DQN 1196-?"

"I haven't forgotten," said Aneel. "The cure will be waiting for you there. And you hardly had to do anything for it. Your luck is changing, elf." And he grinned his awful smile.

Chapter Sixteen.

THE SUCCEEDING DAYS pa.s.sed with surprising calmness.

Relations between the Kreel and the Klingons were still hardly idyllic. But at this point both parties remained cordial, each one waiting for the other to hurl the first insult. However, neither one was doing so, so they both had no choice but to act with a minimal degree of civility.

Still, as the proximity to DQN 1196 grew, so did the tension. Even the announcement of the proposed diplomatic reception-the party-upon arrival did little to alleviate matters. Both sides expressed reservations about such a reception, although naturally they both became more amenable to it upon being informed that it was Guinan's idea.

The latest hot rumor going around the s.h.i.+p was that Worf had himself a girlfriend. This news came after one alert crew member spotted Gava coming out of Worf's cabin with a very pleased smile on her face. "Out of such meager evidence do rumors come," grumbled Worf, and the fact that the rumor was entirely true did not alter his a.s.sessment one iota.

It was after Gava's departure one day, just before Worf was to go on s.h.i.+ft, with arrival at DQN 1196 now just hours away, that Worf's door buzzed. Worf a.s.sumed that it was Gava, and he was finis.h.i.+ng pulling on his left boot as he called, "Come in!"