The Best of Intentions
Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. are owned by Paramount.
Chapter Four
Chakotay trudged to the bridge on reluctant feet. He had just received an urgent hail from Harry informing him that they were nearly within range of the Equinox.
Still, Chakotay found himself simply standing, unmoving, on the threshold of the bridge entrance, and had to mentally brace himself to even have the strength to cross to the command level. He sat down, in Kathryn's chair, and was immediately assaulted by the faint smell of her perfume that clung to the material, the coffee stain on the carpet between their seats, and the fact that the chair had molded over time to cradle her smaller frame. He shifted uncomfortably for a moment then gave up and moved to his usual seat, trying to disregard the several pairs of eyes that had scrutinized his vacillation. Tom's gaze was the keenest, studying him with an intensity that felt almost unbearable.
Chakotay knew exactly what the pilot was thinking. It was the same thing he himself was thinking, a ceaseless litany that had been stampeding through his mind since the second Kathryn had crumpled to the floor of her Ready Room.
After all that had happened, after all the ways he had vowed to fix Kathryn's wrongs, when it all came down to it—what would he do? what direction would he take?
And would his choices be any better?
"Commander, we have a visual on the Equinox," Harry announced from Ops. His voice was sharp, almost too loud. Chakotay jumped, startled, and shook his mind free of his trepidation.
"Onscreen," he ordered.
His mouth was dry, and the sudden image of the Equinox filling the viewscreen did nothing to ease his tension. Voyager had participated in many battles in the Delta Quadrant. She had been pounded and battered by alien weapon fire, nearly destroyed on more than one occasion. Chakotay had seen the bridge in shambles, with consoles on fire, crewman sprawled across the decks, and one hell of an angry captain shouting orders and demanding updates in rapid-fire sequence. He had been privy to information regarding hull breaches, near warp core explosions, and a myriad of other unsightly and potentially fatal wounds to the ship he called home. But he couldn't recall ever seeing Voyager reflected on a viewscreen the way the Equinox was right now, and the sight of it nearly stole the breath from his lungs.
The immensity of the damage was heartbreaking. Battle scars, jagged and black, crisscrossed the dull gray plating. Here and there the internal environment of the Equinox peeked through massive gashes in the hull. The warp nacelles were partially dimmed, and there was evidence of more than one hasty refitting of the weapons array. And Chakotay prayed silently to every spirit in the universe that Voyager would not end up in the same ragged condition by the time this was all over.
"I believe they are heading for a class two nebula approximately one light year from our current position," Tuvok stated.
"Hiding again," Chakotay muttered. "It seems to be a recurring theme."
"I beg your pardon?" Tuvok inquired.
"Nothing," Chakotay snapped, suddenly annoyed at the Vulcan's sensitive hearing. "We need to stop them before they reach it. Our sensors won't be able to penetrate through the energy distortions. Hail them, Mr. Kim."
"They're not responding to the hail," Harry said after a brief interval. And then, without warning, the Equinox rounded in their direction, and Chakotay could clearly see the menacing visage of the ship outlined against the star-strewn background.
"Commander, they're changing position. Heading right for us at maximum impulse!" Tom cried.
"Red Alert! Ready all weapons. Shields at maximum," Chakotay said. He fingers gripped the arms of the chair.
"They are firing torpedoes," Tuvok announced, and the ship lurched beneath the barrage.
"Direct hit to the port shields!" Harry cried. "They're holding!"
"Tuvok, return fire. Take out their weapons array." Several rounds of phaser blasts penetrated the blackness of space, exploding upon impact with the smaller ship.
"Status?" Chakotay demanded.
"Their weapons are still functional," Harry reported. "But their shield grid is down to 83 percent efficiency."
"At what stage will the aliens be able to penetrate their shields, Tuvok?"
"I am uncertain, Commander," Tuvok replied, and Chakotay sighed.
"Hail them, Mr. Kim." He waited impatiently. One heartbeat, two.
"No response." Chakotay found himself leaning forward expectantly, desperately, his fingers digging into the armrest.
"Again."
"They're launching another photon torpedo," Tuvok said. "Full power to the forward shields. Brace for impact."
"Not exactly the response I was hoping for," Chakotay murmured. The ship rocked yet again, this time more violently, and several minor explosions protested from various consoles on the bridge. The fire suppression system kicked in, immediately extinguishing the blazes.
"Commander, there are hull breaches on Decks 3 and 4!" Harry yelled above the din.
"Shield status!" Chakotay snapped.
"Shields are at maximum, Commander." Harry sounded perplexed.
"How could the torpedoes just penetrate our shields like that?" B'Elanna demanded from her station on the bridge, fuming and breathless.
"Unknown," Tuvok replied. "I suggest we move out of range."
"Agreed," Chakotay said. "Tom, get us out of here! Now! Tuvok, set the shield frequencies to a rotating pattern. And let's just hope that was a lucky guess on their part." The pilot's fingers flew over the control panel in front of him, but even his alacrity was too slow to avoid the next contingent of torpedoes that slammed into the ship. This time several members of the bridge crew were hurled violently. Chakotay just managed to hang on to his chair and was already scrolling through data on the console beside him.
"Commander, those torpedoes went right through our shields again! Weapon systems and warp drive are down! Hull breaches on three more decks!" Harry's voice was panicked, and he clung to his station, blood dripping from a slash above his left eye.
"I don't understand," B'Elanna growled, hurling Klingon invectives at the console before her. She slammed her hand onto the control panel. "They're slicing right through, like the shields aren't even there. How could they-" Her tirade was halted by Harry's next words.
"Commander, I'm reading weapons fire," Harry announced tensely. "It's coming from…Sickbay?"
Chakotay launched to his feet. What the hell? "Chakotay to Sickbay! " Silence. "Doctor, respond!"
Silence yet again, and suddenly, inexplicably, Chakotay felt fear race down his spine.
"Commander, an unauthorized transport is being attempted from Sickbay," Harry reported. His fingers danced along the panel in front of him. "Someone's trying to transport over to the Equinox!" Chakotay cursed and slammed his palm against his thigh.
"Tom, get us out of transporter range. Maximum impulse!" he growled. "Ensign, block that transport!"
"I am attempting to, Commander," Harry called out. "But they're continuing to match our shield frequencies. The transporter beam is slicing right through just like the torpedoes."
"Commander, the Equinox is firing again." Tuvok's voice issued from tactical.
"Return fire! They'll have to bring their shields down to transport. Use that moment, Tuvok!" Chakotay heard the words leave his mouth and almost shuddered at the waves of panic and anger that were freely coursing through his body. He unaccountably felt like an unwritten history was about to repeat itself.
"Commander! The power grid in Sickbay is overloading!" Harry said frantically. "I'm trying to contain it from here, but I think the systems have been damaged!" Voices swirled around Chakotay, an almost tangible tenseness in the air, but he felt oddly removed. His body was on the bridge, but his mind was firmly entrenched five decks below. He shoved aside his lingering hesitation.
"I'm going to Sickbay. Tom, you're with me!" Chakotay bellowed. Somewhere in the background, he was cognizant of Tuvok's protests, of something quite near him exploding with ferocity, and of Tom's unsteady footsteps beside him as the ship stumbled sideways then righted itself with uncharacteristic difficulty.
"Inertial dampers are offline. Switching to backup." Harry's voice. A shout, a scream, as something else went up in flames.
And then Chakotay stopped, turning to survey the wreckage of the bridge before him, the specter of the Equinox framed by the viewscreen, mocking him with its imperfection.
"Tuvok, get those weapons back online," he said in a tightly controlled voice. "And bring down their shields." Then he initiated the site-to-site transport.
He and Tom rematerialized in the hallway outside of Sickbay, staggering as another blast of weapons fire caught and destabilized the ship. Chakotay grabbed Tom's arm and half-dragged him through the doors. The Doctor was standing near one of the wall consoles, one hand rapidly entering commands.
His other hand held a phaser to Kathryn's head.
"Doctor, what-" Chakotay felt like his rage was strangling him, and Kathryn's eyes met his with an emotion he couldn't name. She thrashed against the Doctor's grip, but his holographic arm was unmoved.
"No need for concern, Commander," the Doctor said. "Your captain just became a little too interested in what I was doing. But don't be alarmed. I'll take good care of her. After all, she will be a definite asset to the Equinox crew. From what I hear, Seven of Nine is being most…unhelpful. And now I must return to my ship."
Then Chakotay heard the familiar whirring of a transporter beam.
"Kathryn!" The scream tore from his throat as he barreled towards them, his arms outstretched in a gesture that was as desperate as it was futile. As it was, he was merely in time to half-catch the last vestiges of her form shimmering out of existence.
He stopped, hands thudding to his sides, mouth open in wordless exclamation. And then he turned and slammed his open palm into the wall—once, twice—feeling the pain thunder through his body and drench his spirit.
"Commander," Tom Paris was at his side, his hand on Chakotay's shoulder, his eyes wide. "What's going on?" Chakotay turned to glare at him for a moment, carefully reaping his thoughts from the swirl of his emotions. His eyes were murderous.
"Ransom," he spat.
Nothing else needed to be said.
To be continued…