Read Star Trek: The Fall: The Poisoned Chalice for Free Online Page B

these six months ago.” The Efrosian’s manner shifted, his annoyance melting away. “I’ve been wanting to get my hands on this for a while. . . .”
    â€œAs I said,” replied the Deltan, “the admiral said—”
    Ra-Havreii gave an airy wave. “All right, all right, I didn’t ask for your life story. Get to work, then. Let’s see how efficient you spacedock types are.” He turned to Crandall. “You, make sure they don’t break anything.”
    Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “May I assume the maintenance will now proceed without issue?”
    â€œOf course,” said Ra-Havreii, waving him away. He was already moving down the line of new items of hardware, a low smile on his face.
    The commander didn’t believe that for a moment, of course. In his service aboard the Titan, Tuvok had come to understand that the ship’s chief engineer was, to be certain, idiosyncratic .
    He turned away to return to his other duties and almost collided with an ambulatory tower of equipment boxes. Tuvok nimbly sidestepped, but the diminutive figure carrying the cases still staggered. The uppermost box shifted and fell, revealing a deer-like head and wide, augmetic eyes. The Vulcan caught the container easily before it struck the ground.
    â€œOh. Sir!” piped Ensign Torvig Bu-Kar-Nguv, a slightly startled tone in his voice. “I didn’t sense you there.” The Choblik cocked his head, shifting the weight of the other boxes in between the two cybernetic manipulator arms extending from his torso.
    â€œA smaller load for someone of your physical dimensions would be more logical, Ensign,” Tuvok noted. “Continue. I will assist you.”
    â€œMy thanks, Commander.” Torvig’s metal-toed feet clacked over the deck and Tuvok followed him, carrying the errant container in both hands. He expected the ensign to join the maintenance team from McKinley, but instead the Choblik used the artificial claw-like appendage on the end of his prehensile tail to open a hatch into another annex of the engineering deck, one of the auxiliary support bays.
    Torvig made quick work of stacking his containers and took the last one from Tuvok with a bob of his head. “Thank you again, sir. I can take it from here.”
    However, Tuvok made no move to leave, insteadlooking around the bay. “Were you not among the crew granted opportunity for shore leave, Ensign?”
    â€œI was,” Torvig replied, opening the cases. “I chose to refuse. As we are in stand-down mode for the next few days, I hoped to use the time to work on a . . . lower-priority project.”
    Tuvok noticed a mechanical shape suspended in a work frame nearby, draped in shadows where the lamps surrounding it were inactive. It was immediately familiar to him: two almost spherical pods of dull metals, a cluster of stocky manipulator limbs hanging loosely below the main body. A spider-like form, inert and silent.
    â€œLights,” he ordered, and the lamps snapped on, revealing the shape of the alien mechanoid known as SecondGen White-Blue. When Tuvok had first encountered this machine-creature, it had moved with life and intent and ready intelligence; but now it was nothing but dead metal.
    â€œI kept him in storage for a while,” Torvig explained, almost guiltily. “Down on cargo deck three. But it didn’t feel right.” Tuvok said nothing as the ensign nervously fiddled with a photonic probe. “Commander Ra-Havreii talked about dismantling him, but I am uncertain if he was making an exaggerated statement for comedic effect. . . .”
    â€œAnything is possible.” On an impulse he couldn’t immediately quantify, Tuvok reached out a hand and placed it on the motionless form of the machine. White-Blue was an artificial intelligence, the product of a synthetic species from the Beta Quadrant known as the Sentries. Created long ago