Ghost of a Chance (26 page)

“Hold on, Captain,” Paris said. Sweat was gathering on his brow, beginning to seep into his eyes. He blinked sharply and fought the urge to take his hands away from the controls. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Bridge to Engineering,” Tuvok said, just as the Televek weapons found Voyager once again. Paris glanced up and saw the Vulcan watching the moon now. He understood, Paris thought. He understood completely.

“Engineering,” Lieutenant Carey responded.

“Mr. Carey, you will go at once to the transporter room, where you will personally stand by for immediate beam-up of the captain and Commander Chakotay.”

“Yes, sir,” Carey answered. “I’m on my way.” He signed off immediately.

“We’ll only have a moment,” Paris said.

Tuvok nodded. “Lieutenant Torres, prepare to drop the shields on my command. How long will it take to raise them again?”

“They’re taking quite a beating. It’ll take at least a minute and a half, unless…”

Paris glanced back to B’Elanna. She was looking from one bridge officer to the next, intense awareness in her narrowed eyes.

“Nothing. I’ll be ready,” she said. She turned back to her station and went to work.

Paris did the same. The maneuver wasn’t a terribly tricky one, at least not ordinarily; he simply had to put Voyager into orbit around the moon. But they would only have half an orbit during which the moon would be between Voyager and the Televek cruiser—when Voyager was on the planet-facing side of the moon.

They wouldn’t have time to try again, and their speed was much too high right now. Braking would have to be absolutely precise.

No matter, Paris told himself. He would deal with that.

“One minute and thirty seconds,” Chakotay said from the planet’s depths, his voice still as calm as a Vulcan’s.

“We are hurrying, Commander,” Tuvok answered calmly, though he seemed as close to showing angst as Paris believed him capable.

Paris was aware that for a Vulcan, that serene demeanor came naturally, a characteristic of the species; Chakotay’s nearly inhuman emotional control seemed to come from another source.

The two of them and Captain Janeway were an inspiration to one another, Paris had noted, often drawing from each other’s strengths. They were an inspiration to him as well.

He waited until the last possible moment, until Stephens verified that the moon had begun to pass directly between the two ships; then he reversed the impulse engines and made one final course correction.

Voyager slowed just enough to allow the moon’s gentle gravitation pull to capture her, if only for a moment, and swing her around toward the planet.

“All clear,” Rollins stated, sounding breathless.

“Lieutenant Torres,” Tuvok said.

B’Elanna nodded. “Shields down.”

Tuvok raised his voice. “Bridge to Carey. Beam them up—now.”

“We don’t have a good lock, Lieutenant,” Ensign Carey replied.

“We’re at just over 41,000 kilometers from the planet’s surface, that’s at the extreme limits of our transporter range.”

Tuvok rocked back on his heels and wrinkled his brow—in an almost human expression, Paris thought. “I suggest you try anyway,” he said tersely. “That is why I called you.”

“Yes, sir. Engaging—now.”

“Fifty seconds,” Chakotay’s voice informed the bridge. “How is it going?”

“Boosting to maximum gain,” Carey said. “Transferring all available power. Recalibrating the targeting scanners. Mr. Tuvok, we have a coordinate lock. It’s not perfect, but it might do.”

Paris watched the moon spinning beneath them on the main viewscreen, then falling away behind them. The assumption was that the Televek ship would follow them around the back of the moon. The risk was that the cruiser would instead double back, and be waiting when Voyager emerged on the moon’s planet-facing side. He didn’t see them so far.

“Fifteen seconds,” Janeway said. “If anyone’s interested.”

“Transporter room,” Tuvok said. “Please report!”

Lieutenant Carey’s voice came back quickly. “Bridge, we are engaging now.”

***

Janeway stared at the towering underground walls, and the hardened ocean of lava that stretched out before her. She wouldn’t die alone, but that was little comfort. She glanced down, eyeing the time readout on her tricorder: fifteen seconds, fourteen. “It wasn’t supposed to work out like this,” she said.

Chakotay looked at her. “I know. Don’t give up,” he said, following her gaze. “We’ve still got… six seconds.”

Janeway started to speak, but the words froze on her lips as she and Chakotay dematerialized. “Five,” she said, as she found herself standing on Voyager’s transporter pad.

“We’ve got them!” Carey shouted.

“Captain,” Tuvok’s voice said from the intercom, “you are needed on the bridge.”

Janeway still held her tricorder in her hand. She glanced down: two… one… zero. “Bridge, are you reading anything on the planet?”

“We are registering detonation, Captain,” Stephens responded.

“Thank you.” Janeway closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. In the ancient cavern beneath the surface of Drenar Four the antimatter explosion had ruptured the lava dome, allowing hot magma to flow back up, reforming the molten underground lake. No instruments told Janeway this was so. She just knew. She looked at Chakotay and saw the same certainty reflected in his eyes.

She couldn’t help returning his mild grin of satisfaction.

“We’ll be right there,” Chakotay said. He turned to Carey.

“Beam us directly to the bridge.”

Janeway cleared her throat as the bridge appeared all around her and her first officer. They were greeted by a chorus of welcomes.

“Mr. Paris,” Janeway said, still allowing herself a soft smile, “that was nice work. All of you,” she added, looking about.

“The shields are on line,” B’Elanna said half a moment after that.

“I’ve got them up to sixty percent, but I can’t do much better than that.”

“Very well,” Janeway acknowledged.

“What have you done about our friends in the second cruiser?”

Chakotay asked.

“Oh, they’re right behind us,” Paris answered. “Or coming around to flank us.”

Tuvok bowed his head in a semiformal greeting. “We will know in approximately twenty seconds,” he said.

“Understood,” Janeway said, taking to her chair. “Look sharp, everyone.”

“Photons?” Chakotay asked Tuvok as the Vulcan returned to his post at the tactical station, relieving Rollins.

“Armed and ready,” Tuvok said. “But they may not do us any good.

The cruiser has reinforced its forward shields, an effort that we believe will prove quite effective. And they are keeping their distance. I estimate they will be able to survive several direct photon detonations, if they are unable to avoid them altogether.”

“I certainly don’t intend to throw any torpedoes away,” Janeway said.

“We’ll have to think of something else.”

“No sign of the Televek, Lieutenant,” Stephens said. On the screen the moon had nearly vanished from sight. Black space filled much of their field of vision; the crescent of the planet itself filled the rest.

“You sure they’re right behind us?” Chakotay asked.

“Confirmed,” Tuvok said, working his console. “I have the cruiser on sensors now. They are just leaving lunar orbit, following our trail precisely.”

“Are we still within range of their weapons?”

The ship lurched, then shook as the Televek answered Janeway’s question.

“Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Paris,” Janeway ordered. “Buy us some time.”

“They seem curiously intent on simply following us around,” Tuvok said, cocking his head.

“Explain,” Janeway said.

“Their energy weapons lose power and accuracy over distance, yet they do not advance for a maximum assault, presumably because their fleet will arrive shortly. I believe that `buying time,’ as you say, is precisely what they are attempting to do.”

“So, unlike Gantel, this Televek commander is in no hurry to be a hero,” Janeway mused, as the thrum of weapon fire contacting the shields ceased momentarily, further testimony to Paris’s skill as a pilot. The respite would be a short one, she was certain of that.

“We could leave a trail of mines behind us,” Paris suggested, still working the helm controls, “and use approximate settings on the timers.”

“I suspect they would detect and destroy explosive devices of that type,” Tuvok said. “Their shield and sensor technologies have been demonstrated to be as advanced as our own.”

“What about another antimatter container?” Chakotay suggested.

“Properly shielded, they wouldn’t scan anything like explosives, only the EM fields.”

“We’d need an external detonator, and they would be able to detect that,” Janeway said.

“If we had phasers, we could just leave a container behind, then detonate it from Voyager when the Televek got close enough,” Paris replied.

“But we do not have phasers, Lieutenant,” Tuvok said.

“Therefore, we cannot—” “No, we don’t have phasers,” B’Elanna said, stepping away from her station, leaning on the upper level railing, “but the Televek do.”

The ship shook as another Televek shot landed. “We are all aware of that, Lieutenant,” Neelix said.

“Neelix!” Janeway said, causing the Talaxian to step back slightly, nearer Kes. B’Elanna’s expression was one of intense concentration as Janeway turned to face her. “What are you getting at, Torres?”

“We could use a class-one subspace probe. Replace most of the instrument package with a shielded antimatter container. That wouldn’t do any good against their reinforced forward shields, but I’m guessing they can’t reconfigure any faster than we can, which gives us some time. More than enough, I think.”

Janeway took one step closer, her eyes locked with B’Elanna’s.

“If we program the probe to follow the ion trail from their impulse engines…”

“It just might get close enough,” B’Elanna finished.

“Captain,” Tuvok said, clearly catching on, “it should be possible to modify the probe to radiate a deceptive energy pattern, one that mimics those of a message buoy.”

“Make them think it isn’t dangerous,” B’Elanna said, backing up the idea.

“That might buy us a little extra time,” Janeway agreed.

“But won’t they see us launch the probe?” Kes asked.

“Yes, unless…” Paris said slowly, allowing the thought to form behind his darting eyes.

“Unless?” Janeway prodded.

“Well,” Paris said, shrugging, “they followed us around one moon.

They just might follow us around another. Once more around the horn?”

Janeway felt a twinge of satisfaction as all the pieces of the plan seemed to gather. “How long before the rest of the Televek fleet arrives?”

“Approximately twenty-one minutes,” Tuvok answered.

“At this rate, our shields will be gone by then,” B’Elanna reminded everyone.

Janeway nodded. She looked at the main screen once more, at the second moon coming into view in the distance, larger than the one they were leaving behind. “Mr. Paris, lay in a course for that moon. Take us around it. B’Elanna, ready that probe.”

Voyager shook as the pursuing Televek cruiser found her again with full weapons fire. Lieutenant Torres sprang from her station, remarkably sure-footed under the circumstances, and sprinted off the bridge.

***

“They’re going around behind the second moon,” Tatel reported.

“Do we follow?”

“Yes, of course, but continue to maintain distance,” Daket said.

“They are an unusually resourceful lot, a lesson many of our colleagues have already paid dearly to learn.” Daket sat back, waiting out the maneuver. He planned to have his own last lessons taught to him at a great price by one of the lovely and talented aquatic masseurs of Troevsta Prime.

“The Federation ship has entered a shallow lunar orbit,” Tatel announced a moment later. “Matching now.”

Daket watched the small, sunlit white dot that was Voyager go dark and disappear behind the great looming moon just ahead. Out of sight. Out of range. It didn’t matter. He could play the game for another few minutes, which was all he needed to do. He had already begun to relax, telling himself that the worst was over, and the best, by his estimation, was coming very shortly.

“Orbit acquired.”

“Be prepared for any sort of surprise,” Daket cautioned.

Tatel nodded. “Their ion trail is steady. They have yet to deviate from their projected course and speed.”

Daket took subtle comfort in that. It was short-lived. A proximity alarm sounded softly from several consoles. Daket tapped at his panels, studying the displays. He found what he was looking for, a very small contact directly below the cruiser, rising, moving steadily into a low lunar orbit. “Analysis.”

“It appears to be a probe of some kind, sublight, compact, unarmed,” Tatel said. “Is there any record of probes associated with Drenar Four’s defensive system?” Daket asked.

“Checking now,” Tatel responded. They waited while computer file data was searched. Nothing turned up.

“The probe is rising directly off our stern,” Tatel said, obviously growing somewhat concerned. “Closing to one hundred thousand meters.

It is emitting a beacon signal of some kind.

The frequency doesn’t match anything in the computer.”

“A beacon?” Daket said.

“It poses no immediate threat,” Tatel went on. “It isn’t even scanning us. Nonetheless, I recommend we begin reconfiguring the rear shields.”

“That would take too long, and if the probe is from Voyager, that may be exactly what their captain wants us to do. A trick designed to make us vulnerable to their attack. They must be desperate by now, and they are nearly out of time.”

Tatel was silent now. She hadn’t thought of that.

Daket smiled to himself, then leaned back in his chair. This was not the time to start taking chances. He felt a mild glow of satisfaction, and he did not intend to let it go cold just yet.

He would be hailed as a hero and promoted, and he would grow rich if anything at all came of this mission. Another few minutes of outwitting these Federation interlopers and it would all come his way.