Star Trek: The Fall: The Poisoned Chalice by James Swallow Read Free Book Online Page B

end of the communication.
    A time-code imprint floated over the holomodule, ticking down to zero. The instant the numbers halted, a humanoid shape melted into view. Taller than Velk, and at a guess, more narrow in build, any other definition of the figure was lost. Like the ghostly image of the cave, the identity of the being was impossible to determine. Species, gender, age . . . these things were lost beneath a masking subroutine that made both Velk and his distant operative blank and featureless avatars to each other. In the highly unlikely event that someone was able to capture this signal, it would be almost meaningless to them.
    â€œI’m here,” said the hologram, the voice toneless and scrubbed of identity. “I wasn’t expecting contact again so soon. What’s wrong?”
    â€œThere have been some developments.” Velk considered what the operative would be seeing at this same moment, a similar holographic shadow play beamed from an identical projector device. He imagined his own indistinct avatar gesturing with a hand from the faint sketch of a chair. “The Orion lead was worthless. They were not there.”
    The ghost figure did something that could have been a shrug, and even through the emotion-deadening subroutines in the transmission, Velk was certain he could detect a note of reproach. “Klingons. They were killed.”
    It took a moment for him to realize that had been a question. “Yes. The targets left traps behind for any pursuers.”
    â€œOf course they did. They’re not fools.” The operative walked slowly around the phantom cavern. “With respect, sir . . . I warned you this would happen. The Klingons are brute-force weapons, not suitable for this kind of mission. All the noise they made with the Orions, they let the targets know they were coming.”
    â€œThat is clear now,” Velk replied, his jaw stiffening. It galled him to have a subordinate point out his mistakes, but there was little he could say to deny them. The operative was correct. The initial plan to maintain a distance between the act and the intention behind it had gone awry, and now they were in danger of losing momentum. “As such,” he went on, “we must address the problem and move forward. I recall an aphorism used by the Earthers: ‘If you want a job done right, you must do it yourself.’ This is how we will proceed from this point forward.”
    â€œI’m familiar with the phrase. We will need time to assemble a team.”
    He shook his head. “That work has already begun. Resources are being redirected as we speak.”
    â€œI’ll be part of the action.”
    â€œYes. Data will be streamed to you, coordinates and so on. Proceed at your own discretion, but keep me advised. Isolation of the targets is your only priority, is that clear?”
    â€œFully.” The figure was silent for a moment. “What are my rules of engagement here?”
    Velk leaned forward to reach for the holomodule. “No rules,” he said irritably, assuming that the implication was apparent enough. “I am authorizing you to use any means necessary to progress your mission to the required conclusion.” He paused, thinking. “I remember another Terran phrase. No loose ends .”
    Velk tapped the device and the ghost light faded away, the cabin walls reappearing. He secured the module in his case once more and then sat silently, his dark eyes locked on some impossibly distant point, his thoughts turning inward.

Three
    A light rain was falling over the city, but there was no evidence of it in the courtyard of the La Sorrento restaurant. Up above the heads of the diners, a discreet and transparent force field kept the drizzle from reaching the ground, and the carefully concealed environmental controls in the planters and stonework made sure that the outdoor portion of the bistro remained at a pleasant ambient