RAGNAROK 1
Author: Rocky

//Author's Note: 'Ragnarok' is a term from Norse mythology which means 'the day of doom' or alternatively, 'a dusk of the gods.' It refers to the end of the world as we know it, when the final battle between the forces of good and evil takes place. Unlike other cultures, the Norsemen believed that Evil holds the advantage, its triumph assured. The only thing that can possibly tip the balance is courage and heroism, a willingness to die for what one believes in.

Acknowledgments: With many thanks to my fellow 7.5 writers for all their hard work in setting up the events leading up to this story. Also, much gratitude to my beta reader, m.c. moose./

Prologue

Chakotay pressed the turbolift call and smiled at his companion. It was the end of a very long day. After a full duty shift on the bridge, he and the captain had spent several more hours working on the quarterly personnel reports, and by the time they'd finished, they were both hungry and exhausted. A quiet meal in one or the other's quarters had been all he wanted. Unfortunately, the discovery that both of them had depleted their replicator credits meant adjourning to the Mess Hall instead.

That had actually worked out fine. Privacy hadn't been an issue as the Mess Hall had been nearly empty, and they'd had a better than average dinner in which leola root was conspicuously absent. He also enjoyed the leisurely walk through the ship's corridors with her afterward. The lights were dimmed, in deference to 'ship's night', and Chakotay thought the muted lighting did much to soften the tense lines in Kathryn's face.

As if feeling his scrutiny, she caught his eye and smiled. "Do you hear that?" she asked.

He cocked his head and listened, but didn't anything detect anything beyond the faint ever-present hum of the engines. "Hear what?"

"The silence." Janeway closed her eyes for a moment. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"It has been quiet lately," he agreed. "I could almost forget we're still traveling through Borg space."

She shot him a look. "Granted it's been more than a month since our last encounter, but it wouldn't do to relax just yet."

"True." Chakotay fell silent, thinking of their last contact with a Borg cube-the drones aboard the Trefla who had frantically tried to rid themselves of any last vestiges of the Collective, with nearly catastrophic results. He wondered how they were faring now.

The 'lift arrived and they stepped in. "Deck 3," Janeway said, and leaned back against the wall, an admission of tiredness he knew she wouldn't allow herself if anyone else had been present.

"I was thinking," he said. "Perhaps it's time to think about rescheduling the Olympics again."

Janeway stifled a yawn. "Let's hold off a bit longer on that, Chakotay."

"Why?"

"Well, the crew is still recovering from the after-effects of the Doctor's holoprogram and survival training," she said. She rolled her eyes and muttered, "I'd rather run a marathon than go through *that* again."

Chakotay grinned. "Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad, was it?" He quickly sobered at the look on her face. After hesitating for a moment, he said, "The idea of colonizing still bothers you, doesn't it, Kathryn?"

The 'lift stopped. He stood aside to let her exit first, hoping she wouldn't just continue on to her cabin without answering his question, that she would finally be willing to discuss the subject with him in-depth.

He needn't have worried. After the 'lift doors closed, she said quietly, "Yes, it does."

He took her arm and drew her over to the wall of the deserted corridor. "I told you before, no one would ever think you've given up. You've said time and time again that we were going to make it back to the Alpha Quadrant, and the crew believes you. Especially now, when it looks as though we're going to be able to shorten our trip considerably, if B'Elanna's ideas for transwarp work out."

Her shoulders slumped tiredly. "I know. I know, but..."

"But at the same time, home is where you make it. By that token, many of the crew feel they're already home," he reminded her gently.

Just as she opened her mouth to reply, the red alert klaxon sounded.

Janeway immediately went for her comm badge, which activated before she could touch it. "Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay, please report to the bridge."

Act I

The turbolift doors opened on the Bridge and the captain and first officer rushed out. As always, Chakotay was surprised at just how quickly Janeway could move when events warranted it.

"Report," snapped Janeway, taking the center seat that Lieutenant Kim had hurriedly vacated.

"We picked up a distress call a few minutes ago," Kim answered, on his way to the Ops station to replace the ensign on duty.

The captain didn't voice the obvious question of why a simple distress call would trigger a red alert. Chakotay reminded himself this wasn't the first time Kim had been in charge of the bridge; the lieutenant wasn't given to overreacting. "Let's hear it," Janeway said.

The crackle of subspace interference distorted the message almost to the point of being unintelligible. The crew listened in silence.

"... hear this, please respond. ... under attack...off-line...life support failing...no one in the sector is safe...help us!"

"It's been repeated several times," Kim added.

"Can you clean the transmission up a bit?" Chakotay asked. "Did they identify themselves? Or who's attacking them?"

"Negative," answered Lieutenant Rollins from the tactical station. "There's so much interference, I haven't been able to make an identification on the vessel."

The turbolift opened once more, disgorging Tuvok and Paris, as Rollins continued, "Wait, I'm picking up something now on long range scanners." His eyes widened. "Captain, it's the Borg!"

Janeway's mouth set in a tight line. "On screen."

The visual of a massive cube and a much smaller sphere appeared. Even as they watched, an energy flare lanced out from the cube, struck the sphere, and dislodged a chunk of its armored hull plating.

"What the hell?" muttered Paris.

"There are no other ships in the vicinity," Tuvok said as Rollins turned tactical over to him, "As such, I would surmise that this is an intra-Borg conflict."

"Confirmed," answered Kim. "The distress call came from that sphere."

"Try hailing them," said Janeway. Perhaps feeling his eyes upon her, she turned to Chakotay. "I want to know why the Collective is attacking its own."

Kim said, "Amplifying our signal with the main deflector...Channel open, Captain. Audio only."

Janeway rose. "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the-"

A female voice cut in, "Voyager! Please, you've got to help us!"

Janeway's brows rose in puzzlement. "Who are you? Why are you under attack?"

"This is Sarexa, Captain. My companions and I..." Anything further was lost in static, as the sphere shuddered once again under the assault.

"That sphere-it's the one that left the Trefla four weeks ago," Chakotay said in astonishment.

"Shields up," Janeway said crisply. "Mr. Paris, plot an intercept course, maximum warp. We're going in."