notes: so I read through the first few chapters of this again, and damn wow my writing has gotten better even just from starting this? Or at least it feels like it has.

Part XIV: Pugna

Chakotay staggered onto the bridge behind Tuvok, the bucking and shuddering deck nearly succeeding in sending them both sprawling to the ground. Tuvok veered to the right toward tactical, and Chakotay half-ran, half-crawled to his chair in the command post. The cushions and strong armrests were a relief, and as Chakotay threw himself into the chair he sent up a quick prayer of thanks to the spirits watching over him.

"Report," he snapped as soon as he had regained his breath enough to speak. The journey to the bridge, through the strobing light of the red alert and the ship trembling and twisting beneath their feet, had left Chakotay winded.

"It's the Kaminoans, sir," Harry said from his place at OPS. "Five ships."

Shit, Chakotay thought, followed by, Weren't the asteroids supposed to protect us? He pushed that trail of thought away; now was not the time to ponder how they had been found, now was the time to act.

Pale green light lanced across the viewscreen, and Voyager lurched. The shields over her bow flickered white like glass, lighting up the ice and stone of the asteroids still spinning in sight, unknowing and uncaring of the fire and fight taking place around them.

"Direct hit to the port nacelle," Harry reported, behind the concussive thud of an explosion. "We're venting plasma."

"We can't take another hit like that," Tom said from the con.

"Evasive maneuvers," Chakotay barked. "Delta-Four."

"Yes sir," Tom said, and Voyager kicked to life under his deft fingers and swung down into a low loop, twisting so that her back was ever to the nearest enemy ship.

The Kaminoan ships followed, spreading out as they did so into a curved arc. The nearest of the ships hung back a few thousand meters and continued firing its pale green lasers in pulses of two. They splashed harmlessly against Voyager's fore shields. The other ships, smaller than the nearest and twice as nimble, raced through the orbiting asteroids in a narrowing band to either side of Voyager.

"They appear to be attempting to circle us," Tuvok commented.

"Let's make that a little more difficult for them, shall we?" Chakotay said. "Tom, attack pattern Alpha-Six.

Voyager leapt forward, her engines hitching up to a high thrum. She fell into a tight spin, dropping beneath the net of ships and firing her phaser cannons in a rotating arc. Most of the shots missed the ships above them completely, but two of them struck home; the white-green light of two shields flaring lit the asteroids like fire. At any other time, Chakotay would have found the glint of light off ice beautiful.

"One of the ships seems to be breaking off the attack," Harry reported. "It's venting atmosphere and anti-matter."

"Good," Chakotay said. "Now let's take care of the rest."

Again Voyager leapt forward. She swung forward and up, cutting beneath two of the smaller Kaminoan ships and aiming for a third. They scattered before her, racing to reclaim their positions to either side; Tom deftly turned her with them, then brought her up on an even level with their prey. Belly facing the third ship, Chakotay gave the order to fire two photon torpedoes.

They struck with the flare of fire and death, the first obliterating the small ship's weak shields, the second tearing the ship to pieces. Debris scattered, fires winking out of existence as the flames devoured the oxygen to nothing, the force of the blasts sending the asteroids within a hundred kilometers spinning wildly away.

"The three remaining ships are closing in," Harry reported.

"Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Paris," Chakotay ordered.

Still the three ships continued to close. They were in an inverted arrow formation, the largest ship at the tip, the two nimbler ships at the fore. As they drew close, the larger ship once more began to fire its lasers, first in the general direction of Voyager's bridge, then toward her deflector array. Voyager turned onto her side, letting the weapons bounce harmlessly off of her strong edge shielding.

The two smaller ships, however, did not slow. They curved over and under, spinning onto their backs as they did to fire three quick, concussive shells. The first two detonated harmlessly against her hull plating. The last four, however, hit home.

Chakotay flew from his chair, smashing his head against the floor for the second time in less than an hour. For half a heartbeat his vision went black—then everything came pouring back in. Smoke and fire and the groans of wounded men and women, the bitter taste of burning plastic and wires, the warm drip of blood down his cheek.

He climbed to his knees, then to his feet, and looked around. The bridge was dark but for the emergency lights, dull and flickering, and the handful of fires growing out of shattered displays and broken panels. All around him others were picking themselves up as well, shaking heads and clutching broken arms and ribs.

"Report," Chakotay croaked. He coughed, smoke clogging his nose and crawling down his throat. "Ensign Kim?"

"Ensign Kim is down," a woman said. Chakotay turned, saw amber hair and black skin, and clutched at the name that swam to the forefront of his mind: Lieutenant Afrah.

"Then report, Lieutenant," Chakotay ordered.

Her hands flew over the OPS panel, which was sparking ominously. She hissed in pain as a spark landed on the back of her hand, but she did not pause or even hesitated.

"Our port nacelle is ruptured," she said after a moment. "Impulse engines are down, and Decks Four and Seven are venting atmosphere."

"Reroute emergency power to internal shields," Chakotay commanded.

The lights flickered, then dimmed. Lieutenant Afrah said, "Done, sir."

Chakotay turned, looked out of the viewscreen. He could see two of the Kaminoan ships hovering before them, like sharks waiting for their kill to bleed out. They were made of a dark metal and were lit by the same pale green light as their lasers. Their engines were mounted to two angled wings, and the cockpits were situated above a pointed nose. They looked as insectoid as their creators.

"Do we have weaponry?" Chakotay asked, turning to look at Tuvok.

"Two phaser cannons are operable," Tuvok said. "Systems for launching photon torpedoes, however, are down."

"Shields?"

"Holding at twenty-eight percent," Lieutenant Afrah replied.

Silently, Chakotay cursed. They really were a kill bleeding out in the water, he thought. They barely had any weapons, and at least for the moment, they had no way of even trying to dodge a blast. If the Kaminoans wanted them dead, they were going to die.

The Kaminoans did not, however, seem intent on delivering a death blow.

"They're hailing us," Lieutenant Afrah said from behind OPS.

Chakotay frowned. "Put it through," he ordered.

The viewscreen went dark, then lit up with the interior of the largest ship. A tall, pale-faced Kaminoan sat in the command chair on a dais at the center of the bridge, his high-collared tunic bearing the seven gold bars that Chakotay had learned meant a fleet commander.

"Well met, Commander Chakotay," the Kaminoan said. His large, bulbous head leaned forward on its spindly neck, and the black-tipped spines along its back rustled and raised. If that meant something, Chakotay did not know. "I am Fleet Commander K'Al'n," His lips pulled back from sharp, needle-like teeth.

"Well met, Fleet Commander K'Al'n," Chakotay replied, trying to wrap his tongue around the foreign name and failing tragically. The simple courtesy of the reply gnawed at him, but Chakotay did not think that provoking the enemy was in the best interest of his crew—not at the moment, at least. "What can we do for you?"

"Your ship is a b'oll'k in mud," K'Al'n said.

Chakotay blinked. The idiom was unknown, but the meaning was clear. "We are not defenseless," he said, crossing his arms. It struck him, as he did so, that it was a very Kathryn thing to do. Very suddenly, as if that thought had been the key to the dam, he wished desperately that she were here. She would know how to get them out of this predicament; she would be able to sweet-talk their way out of this, or would know exactly where to fire on to let them escape.

"Perhaps not," K'Al'n said. "But you are defeated."

"Not yet," Chakotay replied. It was half a growl and half an oath.

K'Al'n sighed, a high, whistling exhale that sounded like a bird. "If you do not surrender willingly, your ship and your crew will be taken with force."

Chakotay turned to Lieutenant Afrah. "End transmission," he snapped. The viewscreen went blank.

Tapping his combadge, Chakotay said, "Chakotay to B'Elanna. I hope you have good news for me, Torres."

"I'm afraid not," she replied after a harrowing few seconds. She sounded harried and distracted. "We were at least twelve hours from getting warp back before the attack. Now we'll be lucky if we can get impulse back—period."

"Understood. Do your best."

Chakotay turned to face the blank viewscreen. The weight of his next order sat heavy on his shoulders, black and ominous. What other choice did he have, though? What other hope did any of them have?

Tapping his combadge again, Chakotay said, "All hands—prepare for boarding."