Ghost of a Chance (25 page)

A small band of Televek ran into the clearing from the far trees just after the ship had vanished. They stood yelling and waving at the clouds in anger. Janeway had no idea why they were not aboard. And at first she had no idea why the ghosts would be upset by the Televek’s departure from a field littered with dead Drenarians. Surely they knew what the Televek had been after, just as the villagers did. She tried to communicate this to them but she had no means. She could only gaze up at the shrinking hole in the clouds, made by the cruiser, at the sky beyond.

Then she remembered Voyager; the ghosts seemed to want this image in her mind. They pushed it aside momentarily to show her what could not have been a memory of her own: an external view of the ascending cruiser achieving orbit. Then she saw Voyager again, following a moon, orbiting Drenar Four. Alone. The images did not change for several seconds, until the second Televek cruiser appeared yet again, moving up into a high orbit above the planet, seeking an intercept course with Voyager.

The ghosts pressed suddenly inward, closer to Janeway’s mind.

Sorrow, she thought—that was the only word she could use to describe what she felt from them now. They were terribly… sorry.

Sorry they were so weak; sorry they could not help the Drenarians; sorry they were helpless to do anything to help Voyager—to help by doing something specific, Janeway sensed, though she received no clue as to what that was.

“That is why I’ve come,” she said out loud, not certain whether she had actually spoken. But she thought she heard the sound of her voice echoing around her as the last word left her lips, heard it with her ears.

The visions faded from her mind, and she was once more standing in the mammoth cavern. She looked at Chakotay and found a darkened, worried expression on his face. He steadied himself, looking dizzy for an instant, then better.

“You saw it too?” she asked.

“Yes. We don’t have any time to waste.”

Janeway nodded, and they crossed the distance to the edge of the plateau.

“This would be an unfortunate time for one of those big quakes to occur,” Chakotay said, as they stood only inches from the drop.

Janeway nodded, remembering her earlier fall. When she leaned forward and peered over the edge, she could see the dark lava dome below, but not clearly. “The detonation should occur just above the surface in order to produce the maximum effect. I want the biggest hole I can get.”

“Agreed,” Chakotay said, leaning forward next to her. “I wouldn’t want to have to do this twice.”

“Any guess as to the distance?”

Chakotay frowned. “I’d say it’s about six hundred meters.”

“That’s where I’d put it, too.”

“I’ll set the floaters at minimum negative buoyancy. Drenar Four’s gravity is about ninety-seven percent earth normal, so that should allow the container to drop at about two meters per second.

Janeway ran the numbers in her head. “We’ll set the timer at four and a half minutes. Ready?”

Chakotay nodded. Both of them went to work. As Chakotay finished with the second floater, Janeway activated the timer.

They stood up and held their breath, then they both pushed. The container drifted free of the plateau and slowly began to descend.

Janeway tapped her comm badge. “Transporter room, this is the captain.

Beam us up.”

There was no response.

Daket had opted to wait until the energy levels of the planetary defense system dropped again, a decision that would cost him additional moments. But weighed against the possibility of an attack, he felt he’d made the only sane decision; the ferocity of the planet’s ghostly defenders was legendary. It wasn’t worth the risk.

He would never know, of course, if his trepidation had been justified, but as he watched the sensor images of the Federation ship grow, watched the planet display itself fully on the main viewscreen, visual proof that his cruiser had safely achieved a low orbit, he thought the evidence was clearly on his side.

An uneventful ascent, Daket mused. The very best kind.

What happened next would likely be anything but.

He had glanced at the report on the remarkable Federation weapon that made Jonal and the others disappear. Gantel had no doubt intended to seize Voyager more or less in one piece, had been playing for time, looking for an angle. Then he’d gone to the edge of sanity and attacked, alone. Unfortunately, his plan had backfired.

Daket also noted that Gantel had been keeping his distance from his target during the entire engagement, no doubt concerned about the range of Voyager’s exotic secret weapon, something that also concerned Daket.

Perhaps the device had been used against Gantel after all? Daket could only hope he would not directly find that out.

“We are closing,” Tatel said. “Shields at maximum.”

“Maintain a distance of two hundred thousand kilometers from the target.”

“Yes, Daket, but at that range our weapons’ energy levels will drop approximately three-tenths of a percent per—” “I am aware of that, but the distance will be a problem for them as well, I presume. I plan to use this mutual disadvantage to my advantage.” Daket paused, smiling to himself. He wondered if even Gantel could have maintained such presence of mind under so much duress. He didn’t think so. “That should put them within range of all our weapons,” he went on, “while leaving a comfortable margin for safety.”

Or error, Daket thought. He didn’t have to destroy Federation ship, after all; he just had to make a valiant effort and keep the crew more or less occupied until the fleet arrived. The result would be adequate for his purposes, and to do more would be foolish, as Gantel had so brilliantly demonstrated.

Daket took a breath. “Target weapons. Transfer all shield power to the forward shields and then keep the bow straight on. If they fire their photon weapons we will attempt to maneuver away from the torpedoes, or target it with our dispersion beams and destroy it. But if we take a direct strike, I want to face it with enough shields to withstand the blast. If nothing else, we can learn from Gantel’s mistakes.”

Several seconds passed while the cruiser’s position was corrected and the shields were restructured. Directly Tatel turned to Daket and grinned slightly, nodding.

Daket grinned back. “Commence firing when ready.”

“Commence firing,” Tatel said to the fourth associate manning the weapons station, a young man who had a natural flair for accuracy—something Daket was counting on in no small measure.

The pulse cannon and forward phasers lit up the darkness of space between the vessels. In the distance a sphere of sparkling energy suddenly glowed to life, surrounding the Federation ship, evidence that her shields were attempting to absorb and deflect the assault. Now, Daket thought—wishing he were close enough to use his finely honed senses to determine better what the commander of that ship might do next—now it begins. He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the small console before him. He placed his hands just under his chin and began watching his opponent, waiting for… anything.

“Second cruiser is moving to a high matching orbit,” Rollins stated, again at Ops, while Tuvok took command. “They will be within targeting range in less than a minute.”

“Which means we’re moving into their weapons’ range as well,” Lieutenant Tom Paris said. That meant Voyager might have to move away from her current position and well out of transporter range, something no one wanted right now. He couldn’t imagine what was taking the captain and Chakotay so long. They should have signaled by now.

Tuvok moved away from the ops bay where he had been reviewing the power allocation with Ensign Stephens. He made his way quickly to the captain’s chair and neatly seated himself. Neelix and Kes remained silent. The two of them stood just beside Tuvok, hovering at the back of the bridge’s lower level, hand in hand.

Neelix had urged Kes to go to Voyager’s sickbay, where the details of what was happening would not directly affect her, but she was not needed there now, and she had insisted on staying here.

“Maintain red alert,” Tuvok said. “Prepare for evasive maneuvers.”

“Aye, sir,” Paris answered, “but—” “Cruiser closing to two hundred thousand kilometers,” Rollins said. “Their weapons systems are powered up, and they have raised shields.”

“Onscreen,” Tuvok said. “Mr. Paris, bring us about. Mr. Rollins, arm forward photons.”

“Tuvok,” B’Elanna said, looking up from the engineering station displays. “I recommend we avoid another firefight if possible.

Our shields will not withstand another encounter like the one we just had.”

Paris couldn’t resist giving her a sidelong look. That wasn’t the kind of statement B’Elanna was known for, and she knew as well as he did what the alternatives meant. Paris took that as a bad sign.

“I appreciate the advice, Lieutenant,” Tuvok replied, “but that may not be an option.”

“Lieutenant,” Rollins said, “the cruiser is now within range, but they’re no longer closing. They’re holding position, matching orbits with us.”

“I think you should listen to B’Elanna,” Neelix said. “We may be able to come back around.”

His expression was not one of fear, Paris decided, but of concern.

Neelix had never been burdened by the need to make command decisions of the sort that Tuvok now faced, but he had managed to survive on his own in this part of the galaxy for many years, and he had exhibited no lack of loyalty—either to Kes or to the captain and crew of Voyager. It was not self-preservation that motivated him now; it was group preservation. Paris didn’t have a problem with that.

“I’m reading a substantial power buildup in their forward shields,” Rollins added, “but…”

Tuvok looked up. “Yes?”

“The energy matrix pattern isn’t familiar.”

Tuvok stood up again and moved to the aft area of the bridge’s upper level. He stepped into the tactical station bay and stood over Rollins’s shoulder, examining the data for himself.

“Lieutenant Torres, what would you make of this?” He reached past Rollins to work the short-range sensor controls; then he tapped once more, and the data appeared on a screen at the engineering station.

B’Elanna quickly analyzed it.

“They’re using an overlay pattern of some kind,” she said after just a moment. “They appear to be loading their forward shields by systematically depleting all the others.”

“Then they have made a foolish mistake,” Neelix said. “We can attack them from behind.”

“We can’t maneuver fast enough for that,” Paris told him.

“Agreed,” Tuvok said. “It is logical to assume that this commander is aware of the fate of the first cruiser, and is determined to compensate. Their shields are apparently quite sophisticated. I believe they are attempting to provide an adequate defense against our photon torpedoes.”

“They’re still reinforcing, layering their forward shields,” B’Elanna continued, looking down, her fingers working the controls. “If they can keep the bow facing our attacks, I think they can hold us off for quite a while.”

“Which is probably why they aren’t getting too close,” Paris guessed.

“Agreed,” Tuvok said.

“And by maintaining distance,” B’Elanna added, “they can fire their energy weapons at us while maximizing their chances of avoiding a direct torpedo hit.”

Tuvok came as close to frowning as a Vulcan could. “Helm, hold position until I say otherwise. Mr. Rollins, try hailing the cruiser.

I would like to attempt negotiations one more time. I cannot believe such a successful race would abandon all reason when given an opportunity to—” “They are firing,” Stephens said.

“Confirmed,” said Rollins. “Photon pulse and phaser fire.”

“Believe it, Mr. Tuvok,” Neelix moaned.

His words were punctuated by a series of shock waves that pounded Voyager with a nearly deafening roar—an experience with which the entire crew was already too familiar.

“Commander!” Stephens said, shouting after Tuvok as he headed back toward the bridge’s lower level, stumbling slightly on the shuddering deck.

“The captain is hailing. They’re ready to beam up.”

Tuvok whirled about, stood absolutely still for a moment. He nodded to Stephens. “Put her on,” he said. Then he raised his voice to shout over the din permeating the ship. “Captain, we are under attack. We will not be able to drop our shields in order to beam you up. I will attempt to move the ship out of danger, then return for you at the earliest—” “I’m afraid we won’t be here when you get back,” Janeway said anxiously. “The detonation timer is set, and we can’t get to it.

In about four minutes, nothing is going to matter to us anymore.”

“Shields down to fifty-three percent,” B’Elanna dutifully reported.

Paris could hear the frustration in her voice, could see it on her face. He knew exactly how she felt.

“Helm,” Tuvok said, “evasive maneuvers.”

Paris didn’t like the sound of that. “We can’t just leave the captain,” he said pleadingly, but he prepared to comply nonetheless.

He saw no alternative, but neither could he accept the prospect of abandoning Janeway.

“I would prefer to retrieve the captain and Mr. Chakotay if at all possible,” Tuvok said. “But we cannot remain here, and we cannot drop our shields.”

“Tuvok’s right,” Chakotay said, his voice just loud enough to be heard.

“There’s nothing you can do for us.”

“Maybe there is,” Paris said, looking at the main viewscreen, at the nearest moon still displayed there. “I may have an idea.”

His fingers began working the helm controls. “It just might work, if there’s time.”

“Whatever it is,” Janeway responded in a level voice, “this would be a very good time to try it.”

Paris looked to Tuvok. The Vulcan nodded, a blanket go-ahead.

Paris engaged the impulse engines. The small moon on the screen began to grow larger again, then began to move to port. The pounding ceased as Voyager evaded the barrage of weapons fire.

“The Televek cruiser is pursuing, maintaining distance,” Rollins said.

“They are retargeting.”

“Three minutes, Mr. Paris,” Janeway said from below the planet’s surface. “How is it going?”