Ghost of a Chance (3 page)

“The Prime—” The door chime interrupted her. “Come,” she said, and Tuvok entered the room.

“We have nearly completed refueling, Captain. The impulse engines are now functioning at nearly eighty percent, but Lieutenant Torres estimates repairs to the rest of the damaged systems, including repairing and restarting the warp core, will take several days.”

“Days?” Chakotay said, beating Janeway to it.

“It seems we will be in the neighborhood for some time,” Janeway said, glancing at her first officer. She had an urge to go over everything one more time, restate all of the possible repercussions—a step that she, perhaps more than any other currently active Federation captain, felt always compelled to take—but she was also learning to define the line between prudence and paranoia.

“Very well. Mr. Tuvok, we will conduct a complete analysis of this system, but I won’t promise anything beyond that.” She rose and stood in front of Chakotay, eye to eye. “We still don’t belong in this part of the galaxy. I respect your instincts and your beliefs, as well as your apparent desire to look into these visions of yours, but Voyager can’t go running off, tossing away the Prime Directive every time the spirits move you, or anyone else aboard.”

“Understood, but if an alien race contacts us, in whatever fashion, we are already involved,” Chakotay answered quickly, taking up the argument yet again, the same one they had been having ever since encountering the Caretaker and his Array, and the Ocampa.

“I would point out that the consequences of our actions and, logically, our inactions, are potentially equal,” Tuvok interjected. “Either way, we might theoretically be accountable.”

“But accountable to the present, or to the future?” Janeway countered.

“Both,” Chakotay replied. He leaned toward Janeway, a calm yet discerning look in his eyes. “But we can only live one day at a time.”

“If we find a population on Drenar Four, and if I am convinced that they have never seen a spacecraft or an alien being before, there will be no contact of any kind,” Janeway stated flatly.

“We will proceed according to the Prime Directive. Is that completely clear?”

“Yes, it is, Captain,” Chakotay answered, a somewhat forced but adequate grin finding the corners of his mouth.

“When the refueling is completed we’ll head for Drenar Four at half impulse and survey as we go,” Janeway told both officers.

“Keep each other updated. And tell everyone to stay out of Torres’s way. Dismissed.”

She watched them leave, then sat back down, this time at her desk. At half impulse it would take Voyager until noon the next day to reach the vicinity of Drenar Four. The captain knew she should get some sleep for now and let tomorrow deal with itself.

She decided she would at least try. One day at a time, she repeated to herself, shaking her head as she made her way back to her quarters.

She rested for several hours, but did not get very much sleep.

After what seemed like forever, Captain Janeway got up and pulled her uniform back on. A few minutes later she sat once more in her ready room, facing the data console, reviewing the latest data.

The Drenar system was easily old enough to have produced sentient life-forms, and Drenar Four in particular had all the earmarks of a lush, habitable world. It boasted three very large moons as well, which was most unusual for a planet so near its sun.

As Voyager approached the planet, more data be came available.

There was no evidence of an industrial society, just as Janeway had suspected. The upper atmosphere lacked industrial gases such as hydrocarbons, and no unnatural radiation sources had yet been detected.

But as the dark side of this world came under scrutiny, fires too small and too numerous to be of natural origin were clearly evident on the largest continent.

Janeway sat back, nodding to herself. From the looks of things, Chakotay would not be happy. She rubbed her eyes, then sat back from the console and felt a chill sweep through her body, as if a door had just been opened, letting in the cold of space itself.

She shuddered and looked up, and was suddenly aware that she was not alone.

The presence that hovered just above the carpeted deck was insubstantial, nearly formless, but it was there nonetheless, shimmering as if lit from within, changing as if moved by unseen currents. Like a spirit, like… a ghost.

Captain Janeway stood up slowly, examining the strange blends of transparent colors as they gelled slightly, further defining the entity. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead, the visitor began to speak to her, not in words, but with images, at first no more substantial than the ghost itself, though they quickly began to clarify.

In her mind she saw what could only have been the same images Chakotay had described—a people dying as their world shook their houses down around them and split their fields apart, as their sky filled with smoke and fire and their lands turned gray as they were covered with ash and soot. But there was more.

The visions darkened, then came to light again revealing a vast, grassy clearing. On the ground dozens of unfamiliar but quite humanoid aliens lay motionless, most of them still clutching crude weapons—knives and crossbows, axes and slings. Their bodies and simple clothing were marked by terrible burn wounds of a sort Janeway found disturbingly familiar…

Again the visions grew dark, replaced this time by a message that needed no images or words at all. As if through an instinct or a strong emotion, Janeway understood that the ghost was conveying a clear and desperate plea for help.

Once more the presence faded from her mind, allowing her conscious senses to come back to the fore. She saw the ghostly form of her unknown visitor fading from her eyes as well, replaced by the familiar sight of her ready room. Janeway felt a surge of fatigue move through her as the ghost’s last traces vanished. She tried to rise and nearly fell. She put her hands on her desk, steadying herself, eyes closed, taking deep breaths, and let the feeling pass. When she had recovered sufficiently, she cleared her throat, straightened her uniform, and headed for the bridge.

“What is our position?” she asked, striding as briskly as she could through the doorway, avoiding her officers’ eyes for the moment.

“We’re entering a high scanning orbit around Drenar Four, Captain,” Paris answered, looking up from his consoles.

“We’ve just begun detailed scans of the planet,” Chakotay added.

“We should be seeing some results in a few minutes.”

“Good,” she said, standing in front of the commander’s chair.

She noticed that Chakotay seemed to be considering her more carefully.

“Everything all right, Captain?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The two of them stared at the main viewscreen. Drenar Four was a beautiful world, Janeway noted: blue oceans, white clouds, one very large continent on the day side covered by thick forests and trailing mountain ranges. Even from here, though, she could see clear evidence of heavy volcanic activity along several mountain chains. Long plumes of smoke and ash painted dark lines across the stratosphere.

“You’re sure?” Chakotay persisted.

“What?”

“Sure everything is… all right?”

“No,” Janeway said.

Chakotay looked at her. “Captain?”

She dropped the pretense. She leaned close to his ear. “I’d like to talk with you for a moment, Commander, about those visions you had.”

Chakotay nodded. “Of course.”

“There are some things about this planet that already don’t make sense,” she whispered.

“Like what?”

“For starters, it’s gorgeous. The sort of prize that would have been colonized by any number of races if it were in Federation space.

Unless someone was keeping it as a resort of some kind, a possibility that is rare but not unprecedented. In such places there are usually maintenance facilities or visitor centers, something easily detectable.

I am surprised to find such a world still in so pristine a condition.”

“There is apparently someone down there,” Chakotay said.

“Yes, the numerous small fires seem to indicate that,” she said.

“Mr. Tuvok,” the first officer said loudly, “please report.”

“We are registering hundreds of humanoid life-forms,” Tuvok told her, examining the gray-and-orange images on his sensor displays.

“A pretechnological society, mostly agricultural. I am still gathering data.”

“We’re also picking up a lot of seismic activity down there,” Kim said, glancing first at Tuvok, then at Chakotay. “Well beyond anything I would have expected.”

“What about that, Mr. Tuvok?” Janeway asked, though her gaze had already settled back on the main screen. Her thoughts were still full of ghosts. She tried to push them aside.

“Confirmed, Captain,” the Vulcan said, “and on a potentially cataclysmic scale. I am reading numerous earthquakes moving through the planet’s crust. Radiant shock waves are registering everywhere.

Volcanic eruptions are extremely abundant. The overall level of geothermic activity is unprecedented on a planet of this apparent age.”

“Certainly worth looking into, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”

Chakotay offered, though his tone implied he did not expect a rebuttal.

“Especially since this is precisely what I thought we would find.”

The visions the ghostly entity had brought her were still strikingly fresh in the captain’s mind, as were Chakotay’s descriptions of his own encounter. “Yes, Commander,” she said, still eyeing the planet below.

“I’d say it is.” She blinked and tried to shake the fog of images from her mind. “Mr. Tuvok, would you agree that the indigenous population may be in considerable danger, under such circumstances?”

“There is every reason to believe so,” Tuvok said. “I should point out, however, that any attempt by Voyager to aid them in any way would be a violation of the Prime Directive.”

“She knows, Tuvok,” Chakotay said.

Janeway looked at them both, then let a sigh pass her lips.

“Yes, I do know,” she said. “But thank you, Mr. Tuvok, for reminding me. Continue scanning, and let’s learn everything we can. I’m not rushing in anywhere, not yet. Just looking at the options. It’s difficult to explain, but a few minutes ago—” “Captain, alien vessel detected,” Tuvok said abruptly, his hands working quickly at the tactical station as a small warning klaxon sounded repeatedly. “In close proximity.”

Janeway attended him at once. “What kind of ship?”

“Unknown configuration. It appears to be in a very high orbit, just slightly below ours, and is presently moving to put the horizon between us again.”

“So they’re trying to stay hidden,” Janeway said.

“I suspect that is the case,” Tuvok agreed.

“Stay with them, Mr. Paris,” Janeway ordered the helm. “Why didn’t we detect them earlier?”

“A cloaking device?” Kim suggested.

Janeway shook her head. “Then why aren’t they using it now?”

“If they had such a device, it could be malfunctioning, but I find that line of reasoning highly speculative,” Tuvok said.

Janeway nodded agreement. “Open a hailing frequency.”

Ensign Kim worked to comply. “No response, Captain.”

“We can get a little closer,” Paris offered.

Janeway took two slow steps toward the main viewscreen, on which the distant image of the alien ship appeared as a dim spot poised between the darkness of space and the wash of reflected sunlight from the planet below. “Do it, Mr. Paris.”

The helmsman responded, and Voyager began to close the gap.

“Mr. Neelix, this is the captain. Please report to the bridge at—” “Captain,” Neelix’s voice came back almost at once, a ready bit of woe already present. “I trust everything is fine.”

“No. I need you up here right away.”

“But I can’t leave Kes. Surely—” “Captain,” the doctor cut in, “Kes is resting nicely. When she wakes up, she should be almost as good as new. The only problem I can foresee is Neelix waking her up.”

His tone had grown noticeably more terse with each word.

“On the double, Mr. Neelix,” Captain Janeway said.

“Captain,” Tuvok interrupted, “the alien ship is scanning us.

They’re powering up their weapons systems.”

“Damn,” Janeway muttered, placing her hands on her hips. “Go to red alert. Engineering, can we raise our shields?”

“Not yet, Captain,” Torres replied over the intercom. “I’ve had to take them completely off-line.”

Janeway felt a familiar knot form in her gut—something she had learned to live with in times past, something no good captain could afford to be without. The best remedy was to take positive action, though there were times, like this one, when no path seemed to present itself. “Mr. Paris, evasive maneuvers, but let’s try not to provoke them. Kim, keep trying to hail them.

Tuvok, arm the photon torpedoes… if we can do that.”

“The photon firing systems appear to be inoperative at this time,” Tuvok replied, much too calmly.

“Engineering, I need some options,” Janeway snapped.

“They’re still not responding,” Kim said.

“Alien vessel opening fire,” Tuvok said.

On the screen a brilliant yellow-tinged energy beam instantly crossed the distance between the two ships, narrowly missing Voyager as Paris frantically reacted. The image on the main viewscreen reeled as he continued to move the ship in anticipation of the alien’s next shot.

“Phaser-type weapons, Captain,” Tuvok reported, analyzing.

“However, sensors indicate enemy beam strength at less than five hundred megawatts.” He paused, waiting. “Four hundred forty-four point seven-two-three megawatts, to be precise.”

“That’s only half of Voyager’s upper phaser array’s strength,” Chakotay said. “Do you think they’re holding back?”

“Approximately forty-three point six percent,” Tuvok corrected.

“And it is possible.”

“Even at that strength, without our shields, they can still do a lot of damage,” Ensign Kim said, a twinge of anxiety in his voice. Despite the tone, Janeway knew his remark was largely an observation. And an accurate one.

The turbolift door hissed open and Lieutenant Torres rushed out onto the bridge. She went immediately to the engineering bay, where she tapped frantically at panels as they came quickly to life.