Ghost of a Chance (22 page)

“Wait,” Tatel said, leaning forward, working at her controls. “I have a response from Tolif and his team.”

Daket looked up, his eyes wide. “Yes?”

After a pause that seemed endless, the associate sat back and made a decidedly sour face. “It…” she began, “I’m afraid it isn’t good news.”

***

Janeway felt a surge of relief as Voyager’s transporter room appeared before her eyes. She felt a second, smaller comfort as Chakotay and a pair of security officers lowered their weapons and grinned at her like so many children. She turned and found Tuvok standing beside her.

“Take Ensign Kim to sickbay,” Chakotay said, signaling the security officers to help Kim as Janeway stepped off the transporter pad. “Did we interrupt something?” he asked, glancing at the weapons in the others’ hands.

“A most welcome interruption,” Janeway assured the commander.

“I would agree,” Tuvok added.

“Next time,” Chakotay told the captain, retaining his grin, “don’t stay away so long.”

“I’ll try not to. And by the way, the next time the spirits move you, remind me to pay closer attention.”

“Yes, sir. And may I say, you look terrible?”

Janeway glanced down at herself. She was still covered with dirt and ash, much of it now caked with sweat, and her uniform was torn on both sleeves and at one knee. Tuvok looked only slightly better. She nodded. “Thank you,” she said. She moved toward the door, waited for it to slide away, then headed out at a brisk pace. Chakotay fell into step along side her.

“What’s our status?” she asked.

“Where do you want me to start?” Chakotay said, though it was not a question. “We figured out what you meant in the message you sent, then we did some calculations. The lunar alignment will spell catastrophe for the planet. And a lot sooner than anyone expected.”

“I’m not surprised,” Janeway said, letting go of any last hope that she might be wrong. “Go on.”

“Torres worked out a plan to move the moons a little at a time, one by one, using a projected warp field and Voyager’s impulse engines. We estimate the collective effect will be enough to prevent precise alignment from occurring. We’ve already begun the effort. We’ve completed the work on the first moon, and we’re ready to move on to the second.”

“Your statement would indicate that you have the warp engines back on-line,” Tuvok said.

“Yes. And the transporter, as you know. And all thanks to B’Elanna.

I was getting to that.” The commander’s smile rather resembled that of a father relating his daughter’s latest achievement. Janeway almost envied him that status. The young, often volatile lieutenant had been forced upon Janeway by her new first officer when the Maquis and Federation crews had been thrown together, but B’Elanna was turning out to be every bit the prodigy Chakotay had insisted she was. And she was certainly earning her keep this day.

“I’ll have to thank her personally for that last one,” Janeway said with a slight shudder. “Truth is, we were in a pretty bad way down there.”

“I estimate we had a five percent chance for survival,” Tuvok added.

“You are a comfort,” Janeway quipped.

“Thank you, Captain,” Tuvok said, “but I fail to see how you could find such a statement comforting.”

“There’s just something about you, Tuvok,” Chakotay murmured.

“Lieutenant Torres has mentioned that to me on several occasions,” Tuvok said. “I do not understand it, but I am pleased by it.”

They slipped into a turbolift as the door opened. “Bridge,” Janeway commanded. She slapped at her comm badge. “Captain to Sickbay. How is Ensign Kim?”

“He is doing very well at the moment,” the holographic doctor replied, sounding almost cheerful. The doctor seemed to enjoy clear-cut emergency medical procedures, as opposed to day-to-day minor aches and pains he ordinarily had to deal with. He had, after all, been programmed for the former, not the latter.

Overall, though, Janeway had few complaints. For a hologram, the doctor had a remarkable variety of abilities, and together he and Kes, his talented protegee, seemed to meet Voyager’s every medical need.

“Is he in pain?” Janeway asked.

“No, Captain. I’ve begun healing most of the damage, and I’ll give him something to make him rest. He’ll be as good as new in a couple of days. Should I expect to see more wounded?” The doctor sounded almost too cheerful now.

“That is a very good question. I’ll let you know when I have an answer. Janeway out.”

“Our three visitors were all Televek, of course,” Chakotay continued.

“We believe nearly everything they said was a lie. A little while ago they attempted to take over the ship. They failed thanks to B’Elanna Torres.”

“Where are they now?” Tuvok asked.

“In the brig.”

“Good,” Janeway said. “I’d like to have a talk with them.”

“We have another problem,” Chakotay went on. “Long-range sensors have confirmed a fleet of Televek ships headed toward this system at near warp eight. We were led to believe they were rescue and support ships, but we now suspect they are battle cruisers. The Televek seem interested only in acquiring this planet’s defensive system, which primarily consists of that underground power source we’ve been monitoring.”

“Our information would seem to agree,” Tuvok said.

“They have a ship down there, too,” Janeway said. “Another cruiser, just like the one in orbit.”

The door opened, and the three of them rushed onto the bridge, Chakotay in the lead.

“Commander,” Rollins yelped from the tactical station.

“What is it?” Janeway said, right behind him.

“Captain, we’ve got problems. The Televek have raised their shields again and aimed their weapons. They’ve been trying to hail us, but we’ve been stalling. It doesn’t seem to be working.

Gantel saw his people vanish from our bridge.”

“Vanish?” Janeway asked, one eyebrow raised.

Chakotay nodded grimly.

“Welcome back, Captain,” Paris said, obviously pleased to see her in one piece again.

“Thank you, Mr. Paris. Continue red alert. What is our weapons status?”

“Photons armed and ready,” Paris replied. “Phasers are still inoperative.”

“Captain,” Stephens said from behind the consoles at the operations station, “the Televek are still hailing us. They are demanding—” “Very well.” Janeway trained her eyes on the main screen. The Televek cruiser hung in the distance. She placed her hands firmly on her hips.

“Open a channel, Mr. Stephens. I am good and ready for this.”

***

“Gantel,” Triness said, obviously a bit unnerved, “First Director Shaale’s adjunct is signaling. They require a report.”

No one among the crew had ever served directly under the first director—even Gantel had only met her once—and her imminent arrival did no one’s nerves a service.

“Tell them we are honored, of course,” Gantel said. “And a report will be forthcoming.”

“When? They will ask.”

Gantel glared at Triness. He needed an answer. The trouble was, he didn’t have one. “Soon.”

“Very well,” Triness said, clearly forlorn.

The first director’s timing was a perfect disaster. Everything was going wrong at once, and nothing very right was happening to balance out the negatives. Gantel felt a slight panic welling up inside him, felt despair clawing at his throat untilNo! he told himself, getting a grip.

He immediately turned the panic into brutal rage, a talent that had stood him in good stead over the years, especially in times like these.

If you went after everyone else, and did it loudly enough and fiercely enough, sometimes you could soar above the very worse crisis. Often you could lay enough blame to avoid personal injury. At the very least, you could gain a degree of satisfaction.

There was nothing left for it.

“What’s the problem with Daket?” he bellowed at the bridge crew.

“We have him on the comm now, Director,” Triness answered, obviously pleased with her sudden good fortune of timing.

“Put him through!”

“Director,” Daket said, his face filling the screen, his expression one of practiced but shallow confidence. “My team surprised the intruders when they returned to their shuttle.

They chased the aliens relentlessly through the woods, wounding several of them on the run, even as yet another life-threatening round of quakes—” “Yes, and what became of the visitors?” Gantel demanded, not interested in the details at the moment.

Daket looked pallid now, deathly so. “They… they vanished.”

Gantel shook his head. “I know what you mean. I’ve just seen it for myself. Jonal and the others…”

“Then they are all dead?” Daket said.

“Perhaps, though I don’t know for certain. What is your status?”

“Ah, of course. My status. In fact, throughout the painstaking process of—” “Daket, Shaale will be here soon. Give me the bottom line. You don’t have a thing, do you?”

“Correct,” Daket admitted after a pause.

“Very well. Prepare to leave the surface, but wait until you get my order. We are going to deliver a worthy gift to the first director when she arrives, you and I, one that might make up for some of our… setbacks. If we cannot immediately meet our first goal, we must concentrate on our second, the starship itself.”

With Daket’s nod Gantel touched a pad on his own small instrument panel, canceling the signal. He only hoped Daket would be of some use if the need arose. Daket was the sort who wouldn’t take a chance if his life depended on it. Gantel could hardly blame him at the moment.

“Prepare for battle,” he commanded the bridge crew. “Shields at maximum. Helm, steady ahead. Prepare to fire on my command.”

Gantel waited as the two ships drew slightly nearer each other.

The way he saw it, he had only one chance: attempt to disable Voyager without completely destroying her, then board her and take over the controls. At that point he could simply eliminate whatever crew had survived the attack.

He would then present whatever was left of the craft to Shaale.

With luck, those wonderfully powerful phaser systems would survive the action, along with the remarkable vanishing device, and he could still salvage this whole operation, right under the first director’s nose.

Too good to be true, no doubt, but it sounded infinitely better than the alternatives.

Gantel straightened himself in his chair and took a breath.

“Triness, hail the Federation vessel.”

***

Tuvok moved to assume the tactical station, eliciting a look of welcome relief from Rollins. The Vulcan’s fingers moved only briefly; then he looked to Janeway and nodded.

“Commander Gantel onscreen,” Stephens said.

The face of the Televek commander appeared just as Janeway had expected it might. A face Janeway was seeing for the first time, yet one she felt she had seen many times before. Gantel did not look pleased.

“What have you done with my people?” he demanded immediately, almost as if nothing else worth discussing had occurred.

“They are being held for crimes against the Federation,” Janeway said.

“I’ll decide what to do with them.”

“You have no right to hold them or to judge them!”

“We have every right. They lied to us, threatened my people, and attempted to seize my ship. But the crimes your emissaries have committed pale in comparison to those your people on the planet below are guilty of. I’ve been to the surface, Gantel. I know about the other ship, and about your assassins.”

Gantel fumed. “I won’t discuss that.”

“I think you will.”

“You are an insolent fool, Captain!” Gantel roared, leaning forward until his image filled the entire viewscreen. Janeway got the impression he didn’t act this way often, though he seemed to have a flair for histrionics.

“I am beginning to think at least one of us is a fool,” she said.

Gantel stared at her. “You have no business here, yet you feel you have the right to make rules for others and apply them at will. I must inform you that you do not. And you have few options in any case. If you attempt to fire on us, or if you try to leave orbit, we will destroy you. That is something I wish to avoid, but occasionally it is necessary to accept one loss in order to prevent two.”

“Your own people are aboard my ship,” Janeway reminded him. “And they’re going to stay here for a while.”

“Their families will be compensated,” Gantel said flatly. “You have lost, Captain. One way or another, your ship, or whatever is left of it, will be boarded and taken from you. We hope to take Voyager intact, thus sparing the lives of your crew, but if we have no alternatives, so be it.”

“Captain,” a breathless voice hissed from just behind Janeway’s left ear. She glanced back to find Lieutenant Torres standing there, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She had apparently been running. Janeway hadn’t even heard the lift door opening. She turned her head slightly. “Yes?”

B’Elanna nodded toward the face on the screen.

“Gantel, one moment, please,” Janeway told the Televek commander.

“Do not cut me off, Captain,” Gantel protested. “Not again. You are in no position to—” Janeway signaled Stephens, and the comm went silent.

“I’ve been monitoring things from Engineering,” B’Elanna said.

“I didn’t want to use the comm.”

“Yes, yes,” Janeway asked impatiently, “what is it?”

“I suggest you try the shields, Captain.”

Janeway reached out and took B’Elanna by both arms. “Shields?”

Torres’s earnest expression was softened by a modest grin as she nodded. “Shields, Captain.”

“Lieutenant,” Janeway joked, shaking her head as her own smile broadened, “remind me to make you my chief engineer one of these days.”

With that she spun half around again and faced the screen. “Mr. Tuvok, shields up!”

The face on the screen had darkened suddenly. As Gantel listened to someone on his bridge, a silent vow seemed to emanate from his tightening lips, something Janeway could not decipher.

“Mr. Stephens, reopen that channel.”

“Open, sir.”

“Gantel, you won’t mind if we don’t go quietly,” Janeway told him.

Abruptly, the image on the screen was gone.