'This isn't going to end well.' Captain Kathryn Janeway thought to herself as she tightened her grip on her command chair. The USS Voyager, Intrepid class Federation Starship trembled as a charge of green plasma energy detonated against her shields.
At the helm, Lieutenant Tom Paris's hands flew across the controls, sending Voyager shearing off of her previous course. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to evade the incoming weapons fire while still maintaining maximum speed.
Voyager was running for her life. Fast and Agile, she raced through the emptiness at her maximum speed of Warp Nine point Five. The ship was being pushed hard for good reason.
Far behind her, but closing the gap with each passing second, the massive forms of two Borg cubes raced in pursuit.
Paris sent voyager reeling off course again, just dodging a barrage of Borg weapons fire. Voyager was pushing her engines to their limits, but was still unable to pull away from the pursuing cubes. Dodging the hail of Borg fire slowed them even more while the cubes slowly but inexorably closed the gap.
Another Plasma charge detonated right next to them, shaking Voyager hard. At the Tactical station,
Lieutenant Tuvok watched as more and more of his readouts turned red.
"Shields down to forty percent..." he announced with typically Vulcan calm. "At the current rate we are taking fire, shields will fail in approximately one hundred twenty seconds."
"Engineering!" Seated next to Janeway, Voyager's first officer Chakotay roared into the comm.
"B'elanna! We need more speed. Whatever we have left, divert it to the engines...!"
"The only things left are shields and Life Support!" B'elanna Torres, Voyager's half-Klingon Chief Engineer howled back. "We already diverted everything else four minutes ago! There IS nothing left!"
Chakotay turned and shared a look with Janeway. Both knew Torres to be an exceptional engineer, capable of thinking up solutions few others could and then pulling off a well timed miracle or two to make those solutions happen.
Right now however, with the Borg closing on them and shields about to fail, it seemed there were no solutions and even fewer miracles to be had.
Voyager trembled again from another near miss. "Shields down to twenty five percent." Tuvok announced flatly. He glanced down as one of the readouts on his board beeped for attention.
"Sensors show a third Borg vessel, approaching from One Eight Five mark Seven Zero. It is attempting to cut us off."
"Tom!" Janeway called, a hint of desperation in her voice.
"Aye Captain...!" Paris was already adjusting Voyagers course. Seconds crawled by, each one an eternity.
"Borg vessels continue to close." Tuvok announced. Plasma blasts hit Voyager from two seperate directions, shaking the fleeing vessel hard.
At his station, Voyager's security officer needed all his Vulcan strength to prevent himself from being hurled to the deck. "Shields down to five percent..."
The Captain felt something cold and sickening grip her heart. She looked over to where Commander Chakotay was painfully trying to rise from where he had been hurled. His expression was a mirror of her own.
"Mr Tuvok..." At least her voice sounded steady. " Prepare to activate self-destruct..."
"Astrometrics to bridge..."A voice sounded from the comms, hard and urgent. "Change course immediately to One Six Eight mark One Three Five...!"
For a stunned second, no one on the Bridge spoke. Chakotay was the first to find his voice.
" Seven, what the Hell..."
"There is no time!" Her voice cut him off. "Change course now! It is Voyager's only chance for survival!" For a stunned second, time stood still. "Helm!" Janeway spoke first, her voice as hard as stone. "Change course! One Six Eight mark One Three Five!"
"Aye Captain!" Paris was already hammering on his controls. Voyager arced away from her previous course in a wild, looping turn of over one hundred degrees. Her new course actually took her closer to one of the pursuing cubes but the Borg, taken completely off guard by the strange manuever, were unable to react fast enough. Voyager shot away on her new course, the cubes ponderously turning to try and catch their far more agile prey.
On Voyager's bridge, the crew was still trying to understand what had just happened. "Damage reports!" Chakotay rose from the First Officers position, making a fast tour of the bridge stations as Janeway thumbed her comm.
"Seven, report!" The Captain managed to keep her voice steady, despite being as confused as any of them.
The answer came immediately. "We must hold this course and speed for 5 minutes, 23 seconds. There is a nebula directly ahead. Once we enter it, we will be safe."
Of all the answers the crew had imagined would come, that was not one of them. "A nebula...?"
Janeway sounded incredulous. "Seven, this course is taking us straight back towards the heart of Borg space. How is a nebula going to help us..?"
"Captain, we will be safe from the Borg once we enter the gas cloud. No Borg vessel will follow us once we are inside."
"They've followed us halfway across the Quadrant..." At the helm, Paris was doing everything he could to coax just a little more speed from the engines. "How is a big gas cloud going to stop them...?"
The answer was as immediate as it was chilling. "Because the Borg are terrified of it..."
For the second time in as many moments, the bridge crew was stunned to silence. Thier war with Species 8472 may have taught the Borg caution, but fear? That was something the collective did not experience.
A loud tone sounded from Tuvok's board, making more than a few crewmembers jump.
"Sensors are now detecting the nebula. Estimating four minutes ten secounds until we reach the outer perimeter. Nebula is approximately two point five light years across, moderately sized.
Composition appears fairly standard, with traces of some more exotic elements."
"On screen" Janeway turned forward as the view of the stars streaking by was replaced by a image of their hoped for place of salvation.
It was ugly, a baleful, misshapen cloud of brownish red gas that looked almost like a eye.
It was shot through with streamers of burning orange and near the center a fiercely glowing iris of yellow marked the remains of the star whose death had birthed the cloud.
Tuvok's board again beeped for attention. "The Borg vessels are continuing pursuit.
Now at Warp nine point six and closing. Estimated they will be in firing range in three minutes fifty seconds."
"It's going to be close..." Chakotay was running the numbers through his console. The Borg would be in range to start shooting right about the same time Voyager would need to decelerate to safely enter the nebula.
Janeway's expression was grim. "Too close..." The Captain was weighing options in her head and not liking any of them. "Engineering, reduce Life Support by fifty percent and re-direct the power into the engines."
"Captain...!" Chakotay's voice held both a question and a warning. Below in Engineering the Chief Engineer was right with him. "Bridge..." Torres called, "Please confirm order to reduce..."
"Confirmed...!" Janeway cut her off hard. "Now do it!"
"Understood..." Came the reply. At the helm, Paris tapped a fast sequence of commands into his board. Seconds crawled by, each one feeling like a century.
"Speed now Warp nine point six." He finally reported. "Estimating nebula outer boundary in two minutes.."
Janeway spent a moment looking over her own display. "Tuvok...?" Up at his station,
the Tactical Officer was busily keying in commands of his own. "we are maintaining our distance from the Borg Vessels. However travelling at this velocity is dangerously over stressing the engines."
"Two more minutes. Just hold on for two more minutes..." Janeway said, as much to herself as to anyone else.
The seconds crawled by. First one, then two, then a whole host of warning alarms joined the roaring of the Warp Engines.
"Engineering to bridge...!" Torres voice was equal parts rage and fear. "We've lost two Warp Coils and have multiple Plasma conduit failures in both nacelles! The engines can't handle these loads! Catastrophic failure is imminent if we don't cut our speed!"
"Negative." Janeway said, her voice iron. "We're almost there. Maintain velocity."
"The engines will blow!" Torre's reply was as hot as the ship's drive. "Captain,
we can't..."
"Captain!" Tuvok's tone cut through the cacophany. "The Borg vessels are decelerating!"
"Confirm...!" Janeway had to work to keep her voice steady.
"Confirmed. Borg vessels have dropped to Warp five and are continuing to slow. They are also changing course, away from the nebula."
"Speaking of which..." Paris sounded only a little bit frantic. "Nebula boundary in thirty seconds. At this velocity..."
Janeway didn't let him finish. "Helm, all back full! Reduce to Warp point five!"
She turned to her right. "Tuvok! Whatever power we have left, divert it to forward shields!"
The roar of the Warp engines turned into a howl as Voyager fought to shed her incredible velocity.
At the Helm, sweat was dripping into Paris's eyes, making them sting. "Warp six.. Warp Five point five... Warp five..."
"Ten seconds to nebula perimeter.." Tuvok, at least, sounded calm.
Chakotay keyed his comm. "All stations, brace for severe turbulence!"
"Warp three... Warp two..." Paris was gripping his console so tightly he was sure he was leaving dents in the metal.
Tuvok's board sounded a long, wailing tone. "Nebula boundry reached..."
Voyager broke out of warp speed just as she hit the gaseous edge of the nebula. Her shields flared star white as the ship went from open space to thick dust and gas while still travelling at a appreciable amount of the speed of light.
The energy of the entry turned the gas to plasma as a cone shaped shockwave blasted outward from Voyager's point of impact. A trail of churning fire marked the vessels path into the nebula.
Inside crewmembers were hurled away from thier stations to smash into walls and floors. Blood and desperate cries filled the air. The ship shuddered wildly as the hull screamed in protest at the forces it was being asked to endure.
On the bridge consoles exploded and flames raced along ruptured conduits. Sparks rained down from shorting lights while the air rang with alarms and the desperate calls of injured crew.
Janeway was thrown hard to the deck. At the helm, Paris let out a howl of pain as part of the console exploded under his hands, scorching them.
The hull shrieked like a living thing and the ship shook so hard it seemed impossible it would not fly to pieces. Clinging desperately to a railing support, Chakotay's teeth chattered from the violent pounding, while seemingly every alarm Voyager had wailed thier song of Warning.
And then, it was over. The terrible shaking eased, then stopped. Voyager, having slowed nearly to a stop, drifted through the thick clouds of gas and particulates. Onboard,
emergency lights flickered, then held steady. Auto Fire Suppression systems extinguished the hundreds of small blazes that had broken out and the life support system rapidly began to clear the smoke and other, more toxic substances from the ship's atmosphere.
Throughout the vessel, crewmembers rushed to aid thier injured shipmates and worked to stabilize the worst of Voyager's badly damaged systems. Outwardly, thier movements were practiced, swift and professional. Inwardly a dozen different Gods and Dieties of dozens of different species were offered prayers of thanks as Voyagers crew began to realize they were not going to die.
On the bridge, a sore and bruised First Officer slowly rose to his feet. He gazed around at the badly damaged stations while silently thanking his ancestors that he would not be joining them that day.
"Main power is down." Tuvok was patiently and methodically silencing alarms while quickly assessing the ship's condition. "Emergency power is holding at fifty percent.
Shields are down. Impulse power is out, the Warp drive suffered extensive damage. Life Support Systems are holding."
"Sensors..!" Chakotay was moving over to a crumpled form on the deck. "We need to know the position of the Borg cubes..."
Up at the Operations station, Ensign Harry Kim was working his few operable controls,
while looking midly suprised to be still breathing. "Sensors are inoperable. Trying to bypass the damaged systems now."
At his post, Tuvok had managed to still almost all the alarms. "Damage Control teams reporting from all decks. Multiple main systems damaged, but repairable." He checked another display. "Sickbay is fully operable and recieving casualties. Medical teams have deployed throughout the ship."
"Get one up here." Chakotay knelt beside the slender form on the deck and after checking for and seeing no obvious signs of broken bones, gently turned her over.
"Ow..." was the best Janeway could do just then. She had a nasty lump over her left eye and a ugly gash that ran from her left ear up her head. Blood matted her auburn hair to the side of her face.
"Sensors are back On-Line." Tuvok announced from above.
"Staus of Borg ships..." Janeway struggled unsteadily to her feet, supported by Chakotay.
Tuvok was already communing with his instruments. " Borg vessels have retreated and are holding position five light-minutes from the nebulas outermost boundary." He double verified one readout. " They are not attempting to orbit the nebula, nor are they moving into a search pattern."
"Thank you Seven." Chakotay said quietly while helping Janeway back into her command seat. The medical teams had arrived and were tending to the most seriously injured while the rest of the crew set about repairing what they could. The ship had taken a serious beating. Chakotay looked around, seeing the extent of the task before them.
"This is going to be a job..." He mumbled to himself. A Medtech moved past him and began tending to the Captains injuries. Janeway glanced up at her executive officer and managed a weak smile. "That's one Hell of a understatement Commander."
Chakotay replied with a grim nod. Very, very true. but at least, for now, it seemed they were safe and might actually live long enough to be able to get that job done.
Several decks below, in Astrometrics, a tall, slim figure stood staring at the wall sized main display, currently filled with a computer generated image of the nebula they had just entered. Seven Of Nine's piercing blue eyes were wide with a barely contained mixture of fear and horror. Her slender frame trembled so hard her teeth ground together and a single cold tear ran down her pale cheek.
She whispered to herself, in a voice that could only come from the truly damned. "What have I Done..."