The Farther Shore - Christie Golden [51]
[151] “Thank you,” said the Doctor. “If I may say so, I think I bought us some time and some safety insurance so that we can work undisturbed.”
“What if Watson comes to check on us?”
“Computer,” said Data, “program the EMH to be deactivated whenever a humanoid is within three meters of the sickbay door. Also, replicate a hologram with the features, vocal patterns, and personality of Lieutenant Commander Susan Taylor. Consult her personal logs and ship’s logs for information.”
After a moment, the computer said, “Completed.”
“Activate Taylor hologram.”
An exact replica of Susan Taylor materialized next to Kaz. She smiled pleasantly. “What can I do to help you, sir?”
“Stand by the door, Lieutenant Commander, and please don’t interrupt us.”
She nodded. “Certainly, sir.”
“Holograms are amazingly useful things,” said Kaz.
“Yes,” said the Doctor, “we certainly are. The information you brought has been downloaded, Doctor Kaz. Now the real work begins.”
Holograms, thought Covington, are amazingly useful things.
While her drones were of course dearest to her heart, she also had a special fondness for the hologram that had helped her become the Queen she was today. Humans were far too complicated. They had their own agendas, and while she could play upon those agendas to manipulate them, she still preferred people who were more than flesh.
[152] Brian Grady, for example, had an agenda that coincided with hers. At first, all he had wanted was acknowledgment for his skill and contributions. When he continued to not receive enough to assuage his ego, he had begun wanting more. Brenna Covington could provide it, or so she told him.
“Picard turned it down,” she had told him early on, with the memories embedded in the program that had been used to create her. “He couldn’t see that this was truly the best of both worlds. Human and machine, each better than the other could possibly become separately. Power such as neither alone has ever tasted.”
She had rolled over onto him, her lips a mere centimeter from his, and whispered, “A queen needs a consort.”
He had tangled his fingers in her hair then, and kissed her with a passion she had never before experienced with him. Later, as she became more and more Borg and less human, Grady had pleased her by finding as much delight in her altered body as he had before—perhaps even more.
Now, though, he was pressing to push ahead. He seemed to feel that the Starfleet bumblers were actually getting close to uncovering their secret. She had replied, scathingly, that if they were getting close to anything it had been his fault, for not leading them far enough astray. He had vowed to redouble his efforts, but it was becoming dangerously clear to Covington that “Red” Grady was more than ready to claim his own throne.
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she did need to push up the timetable.
[153] She would need some heightened adjustments in order to do so.
A few years ago, they had wanted to get rid of this version at headquarters; download it and ship it off to some dilithium processing plant somewhere. She had fought back panic. She had worked for years with this doctor. While the information could always be downloaded, she had developed quite a cordial relationship with it. And it was her understanding that the new EMHs had something in their system that prevented their ethical subroutines from being deleted.
That would not serve her purpose at all.
So she had gotten Trevor to help her create a false trail, so that it would appear as if the EMH had been removed. He oversaw the downloading of the new one, so that if anyone got a bruise or a bump on site, they could go to the new, younger-looking, African-appearing EMH to get treatment.
The older EMH could only be activated by a code phrase that no one but she, Grady, and Blake knew, to minimize accidental discovery.
The door hissed open. “Computer,” she said, “Invoke security precautions Covington 486-Delta.