Ragnarok (20 page)

“Some of them may not remember that in time,” Chakotay said. “Or maybe they’ve decided that the hangar door is more solid than it looks. Mr. Kim, open a channel to the P’nir bridge—or if they refuse contact, just give me exterior speakers.”

“They’re evacuating the hangar, sir,” Rollins reported. “Maybe they’re willing to blow out the door to get us, after all.”

“Keep those shields up,” Chakotay ordered. “If they do blow out the door, at least we’ll be able to get off their confounded ship.”

In the stern area, Bereyt had lowered the P’nir captain to the deck and inspected her for injuries, but had found none. Now she looked up from where she knelt by the still-unconscious creature and said, “But they could still tractor us back in, if that happens.”

“More likely they’d just blow us to bits,” Chakotay said. “No point in making it easy for them.”

“They’re refusing contact, sir, but I’ve got the exterior speakers, and there’s still air in the hangar,” Kim reported.

“They should be able to hear you.”

“This is Commander Chakotay, of the Federation starship Voyager,” Chakotay announced. “We have your captain in here with us, alive and well; if you destroy us, you’ll destroy her, as well.”

He waited, but no one answered at first.

The eventual reply was not directed at the shuttle, but at the P’nir crew.

“Mourn, O P’nir,” a voice commanded. “The aliens have taken K’t’rien from us! Obey me, Tsh’pak, as your captain now, and destroy every trace of the aliens, expunge them from existence!”

For a moment, the four in the shuttlecraft looked at one another in silence.

“They still don’t seem to be interested in negotiating,” Kim said wryly.

“You know, Commander,” Rollins said, “that voice sounds familiar.

It might be the striped one who visited us in our cell.”

“Or it might not,” Chakotay said. “We don’t know how much their voices vary.”

“What does it matter if it is the same one you talked to?” Kim asked.

“That one might have something of a grudge against us,” Chakotay explained. “We weren’t very cooperative when it tried to interrogate us.”

“Commander,” Bereyt asked from where she knelt beside the unconscious P’nir, “do you think it might be just this one person who’s responsible for their refusal to talk? Maybe the captain still has loyalists, and if we could reach them, or remove this one officer…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we could transport this Tsh’pak aboard, just as we did their captain…” Bereyt began.

“We’d have to drop the shields,” Chakotay snapped. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

The shuttle’s hull suddenly rang, as if struck by something heavy.

“They’re firing at us,” Rollins reported. “Just small arms; the shields are handling it just fine.”

“Where are they firing from?” Chakotay asked, striding up to look over Rollins’s shoulder at the external video display. “Didn’t they evacuate the hangar?”

“Yes, they did,” Rollins said, “but they’re back.”

“So they are,” Chakotay said.

A dozen or so P’nir had reentered the hangar, wearing clear helmets that covered their heads and shoulders, as well as gloves, boots, and belts—presumably their equivalent of spacesuits; the exoskeletons would make full-body coverage unnecessary.

Each of these P’nir held a weapon that looked like an unholy hybrid of rifle and octopus—weapons they were firing at the shuttle.

Chakotay stared for a moment, then turned away. “You saw the setup on the bridge,” he said to Kim. “Do you think it’s just one power-hungry secondin-command? Or is this a cultural thing, that they abandon hostages?”

Kim hesitated.

“I don’t know, sir,” he said at last. “Their command arrangements appear very authoritarian—the captain literally looks down on all the others, and none of them can see her face without turning around. But I don’t know what that would mean about how they deal with successions or hostage situations.”

“You heard Bereyt’s suggestion; do you think we should kidnap the new captain, too?” Chakotay asked.

“I think it’s worth trying,” Bereyt said, before Kim could reply.

“Sir,” Kim pointed out, as the hull rang again beneath another barrage, “we can’t drop the shields safely while they’re firing at us, and we can’t use the transporter while the shields are up.”

“They can’t fire at us forever,” Rollins said.

“Our shields won’t hold forever, either,” Chakotay replied. “And I don’t particularly want to spend the rest of my life here.”

“Commander,” Bereyt called, from back toward the stern, “she’s coming around.”

Chakotay saw that the P’nir captain’s hands were waving feebly.

The red slit-eyes had never closed—there didn’t appear to be any lids or nictitating membranes, so they couldn’t close—but they had appeared dim and fogged, and now seemed to be brightening again.

“Kim, Bereyt, hold her limbs,” Chakotay snapped. He lifted his phaser, checked the setting, and leveled it at the P’nir’s midsection.

The P’nir turned her head to look at him.

“Captain,” he said, “welcome aboard my ship.”

She looked at him, her featureless face unreadable, then demanded, “Tell me why I still live.”

“Because we want to talk to you,” Chakotay said. “That’s all we ever wanted. We want to know why your people are fighting the Hachai, and whether there’s anything we can do to stop the war.”

The P’nir stared at him, and didn’t speak.

“Tell me why you’re fighting the Hachai,” Chakotay said, remembering the need to use imperatives.

“To destroy them,” the P’nir replied.

“Ah,” Chakotay said. “And tell me why you wish to destroy them.”

“Because they are…” She hesitated, as if groping for the right words. “They are unfit. They are repulsive.”

“By which you mean they’re not P’nir,” Bereyt said, with disgust plain in her voice. “I’ve heard this before, Commander, from the Cardassians.”

Chakotay nodded. “You may be right,” he said. “Plenty of cultures go through a stage of thinking they’re right and anyone different is wrong.” He turned back to the P’nir. “Then you won’t consider peace with the Hachai?” He added belatedly, “Tell me the truth.”

“There is no reason to consider peace,” the P’nir captain replied.

“If you continue to fight, thousands of P’nir will die in the conflict,” Chakotay pointed out.

The P’nir didn’t seem to be troubled by that; she didn’t answer.

“Tell me whether you think your secondin-command would agree with you that there is no reason to consider peace,” Chakotay said.

“I have no command,” the P’nir said bitterly.

Chakotay snapped his head up and stared at Kim, who spread his hands in incomprehension. “She has to be the captain, sir,” he said. “She was in the obvious position of command on the bridge.

And didn’t they announce that the captain was gone?”

“Tell us what you mean,” Chakotay said, pointing the phaser at the P’nir. “Aren’t you the captain of this cruiser? What was the name…

K’t’rien? Aren’t you K’t’rien?”

“I am K’t’rien,” the P’nir agreed, “but I am captain no more. I am disgraced. I have acted improperly; I left the bridge in time of combat.”

“You were taken from the bridge, against your will,” Chakotay corrected her.

“That is worse.”

“And what if we took this Tsh’pak, who has replaced you, from the bridge?” Chakotay asked.

“Then she, too, would be disgraced and unable to command,” the P’nir said.

Chakotay frowned. “And then someone else would take her place?”

“F’shrin would be next,” K’t’rien confirmed.

“So much for that idea,” Rollins said. “We can’t keep kidnapping them until the whole crew’s in here.”

“If we released you, put you back on the bridge, would you be the captain again?” Bereyt asked.

When the P’nir didn’t reply, Chakotay raised the phaser and ordered, “Answer her.”

“I must defeat my captors, unaided, and return to the bridge unaided, to remove the disgrace and be restored to propriety,” the P’nir said.

“Even then, any who chose might challenge me to show that I had acted properly and had not yielded incorrectly to anyone. If you released me and you still resisted, I would be marked a traitor and destroyed.”

“Vicious,” Bereyt said.

“That’s a worse attitude than even the hard-line Klingons have,” Kim added.

“If you release me and then flee, I can claim to have defeated you and escaped,” the P’nir said, her voice suddenly calmer. “I may say that I spared your lives and ship so that we could recapture you for later study, so that we might learn how you took me from the bridge.”

Chakotay stared at her, considering that.

Behind him, at the shuttle’s controls, Rollins glanced at the viewscreen showing the hangar, then cleared his throat. “Sir,” he said, “I think you should take a look at this. Right now.

Because whatever you decide to do, I think you’d better do it quickly.”

For an instant, Janeway had a closer look at the hull of a Hachai dreadnought than she had ever I wanted—the image on the viewscreen showed her every detail, every rivet, every scar accumulated in hundreds of years of combat.

Then the Voyager was past the dreadnought and out in relatively open space again, amid the empty blackness and the cold light of distant stars—though they were still inside the cloud of metal dust and freeze-dried blood that surrounded the battle.

Yet they were, at least for the moment, free, and the ship was more or less intact.

“Status report,” she ordered, turning. “Mr. Tuvok!”

“We are clear of the main area of battle,” the Vulcan replied.

“However, several P’nir ships appear to be attempting pursuit, and the Hachai seem to be undecided as to whether or not to impede the P’nir in this. Certain Hachai vessels are moving to block the P’nir, while others appear to be deliberately making way for them.”

Janeway nodded, and turned back to face forward again. “Mr. Paris?”

“As Tuvok said, we’re out of the battle zone,” Paris replied, “and Voyager can outrun anything the P’nir have, if that’s what you want to do. At the moment we’re on a heading of one-three-one mark eight, at warp five—not heading much of anywhere, but getting there fast.”

Janeway looked up. “Engineering!”

“We’re fine down here, Captain,” B’Elanna Torres replied. “The shields held up beautifully and kept anyone from doing any real damage—I’ve got a few bruised crew members, a cracked instrument panel, and some blown-out power conduits—we did get knocked around a little—but there’s nothing seriously wrong here.

There’s nothing we can’t fix once we’ve got a few hours to spare.

We’ve used up all our reserve power, but we can rebuild that any time you’re willing to stay at less than warp speeds for a while.”

“Sickbay—what’s the situation there?”

For a moment no one replied, and Janeway feared the worst; then Neelix said, “We’re fine here, Captain—at least, I am, and Kes is, and I suppose the doctor is, if it really makes any difference for a hologram. We’re pretty busy right now, though—the doctor and Kes are too busy to talk.”

“What about the casualties?” Janeway demanded.

“Well, no one’s been killed,” the Talaxian reported thoughtfully, “but we certainly do have a lot of burns and bumps and bruises.

One crewman cracked his skull against a bulkhead a few minutes ago, and the doctor’s working on him right now, while Kes tends the burn patients.”

“Thank you, Mr. Neelix,” Janeway said, greatly relieved to know that no one had died. Then she turned left, to Ops. “Mr. Evans,” she said, “any sign of our shuttlecraft?”

“I’m afraid not, Captain. But at this distance, and this speed…”

Janeway didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence; she turned and snapped, “Mr. Paris, drop to impulse. Then turn this ship around and take us back.”

“Back into the battle, Captain?” Paris protested.

“No,” Janeway said. “Just close enough to be ready when Chakotay comes out looking for us.”

Paris blinked. “You think he will?”

“I intend to at least give him a chance, Mr. Paris!” Janeway replied.

It wasn’t hard to see why Rollins had thought something needed to be done quickly. Chakotay stared over Rollins’s shoulder at the image on the display.

A dozen P’nir were hauling machinery into the hangar, fitting components together, and making adjustments to the resulting assembly.

“What is that they’re building?” he asked.

“I don’t know, sir,” Kim replied, “but whatever it is, that appears to be an energy projector of some sort on this side of it.”

Chakotay looked at the elaborate machinery out in the hangar for another second, then turned to the disgraced captain. “Tell me what they’re doing,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “Surrender to me, restore me to my place!”

Chakotay turned away in disgust.

“Sir,” Kim said, “I notice that they’ve stopped shooting at us.”

“They’ve probably given up,” Rollins said. “They must have figured out they can’t get through our shields with hand weapons.”

“Exactly,” Kim agreed. “They can’t get us with hand weapons—but I don’t think they’ve given up. The P’nir don’t seem to give up easily.”

“What are you talking about?” Rollins asked.

Kim pointed at the screen. “My guess would be that that thing they’re putting together is something that can punch through our shields. It might be a weapon they moved in here from somewhere else, or maybe it’s some sort of construction equipment…”

“You’re right,” Chakotay said, looking at the thing. Now that the assembly was largely complete and most of the workers had cleared away, he could see more of the machine. A central coil amid a tangle of modulators was mounted on a box that was presumably a power regulator, and the coil fed into a parabolic projection dish; the technology wasn’t quite like anything he’d seen before, but the basic principles behind its construction seemed clear enough.

“They plan to batter down our shields and kill us all, I’d say,” Chakotay said.

“Do you think it’ll work, sir?” Kim asked.

“It should,” Chakotay replied.