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

that the young officer must have been there to witness the shooting of President Bacco in person. Nog seemed to push that thought away and nodded. “We’re not the only Starfleet officers here, sir.”
    â€œSpeaking of which,” said Tom, “I’m going to check in with Ixxen, let her know we’re good to go.” He gave Tuvok a sideways look as he walked away. “Nog here will get you settled.” Khob had already drifted off, his attention focused on his tricorder.
    â€œHe means Lieutenant Yal Ixxen,” Nog explained. “She’s our pilot. A Bolian ops specialist off the U.S.S. Blake . She was assigned just before I came on board.” He inclined his head and bid the Vulcan to follow him.
    Tuvok gave a nod, and they crossed the largelyvacant cargo bay, both of them ducking to pass through a steel hatchway into a long, narrow corridor.
    The interior of the cargo ship was as unkempt as its exterior. There were no panels covering the walls to hide away the power conduits, EPS taps, and cable bundles, such as one might find on a Starfleet ship. Instead, pipes and thick trunks of wiring snaked along the walls, vivid hazard labels warning of live plasma streams or energy feeds. Gridded deck plates rang beneath their footfalls as they worked their way aft. Tuvok smelled machine lubricant and rust.
    â€œMister Nog, how many so-called ‘recruits’ are there aboard the Snipe ?”
    â€œTen of us, along with a small crew for the ship,” said the Ferengi. “Didn’t they tell you that?”
    â€œ They have not imparted much information to me, Lieutenant Commander,” he noted.
    Nog gave him a look. “Ah. Because we were sort of hoping you would have some idea as to what this is all about, sir. As you’re the last to arrive, and all.”
    â€œYour assumption is incorrect,” he replied. “As, clearly, was mine that you would have that information to impart to me .”
    â€œSo you’re as clueless as the rest of us?” Nog gave a brief, cynical chuckle. “Well, in a way, I feel better.” He paused, thinking about it. “No, actually, I feel worse.”
    A dull rumble sounded through the hull and the Snipe groaned as its thrusters powered up. A speaker horn overhead crackled, and a woman’s voice spoke. “Secure for lift-off. We’ll be going to warp as soon as we break orbit.”
    Tuvok sensed the subtle shift in gravity as the Snipe left the surface of the planet and rose into the stormy sky.
    Nog led him past a set of compartments, each onea cramped crew cabin with a pair of bunks and fresher unit in one corner. He indicated one as they approached. “This is us. We’re, uh, sharing. I hope that’s okay?”
    â€œI will make an effort to adapt,” Tuvok replied. His attention was on the open hatch directly opposite; inside one of the other compartments a pair of diminutive Bynars were engaged in a conversation in their native language. A stream of high-speed data code raced back and forth between them, atonal and irregular in pitch.
    â€œThey’ve got really long name-designations,” Nog noted, seeing his interest. “We’re just calling them One-One and Zero-Zero for now. They’re specialists in communications and information security.” He pointed ahead. “The mess hall is up here.”
    The Snipe creaked around them as pressure changes exerted themselves on the hull, and the gravity gradient shifted once again as Tuvok followed the Ferengi into an open area that was part crew lounge, part dining hall. Metal benches and tables were bolted to the deck, and along one wall were a series of food dispensers that had seen better days.
    At one of the tables, a tawny-skinned Elloran female gave him a quick, measuring look, the bony crest extending from the back of her skull bobbing as she turned back to her conversation with a pale human man of stocky build. Tuvok