Chapter XIX
The two intruders materialised aboard the Aralla ship, weapons out and senses alert. When no Aralla approached them, Data took quick stock of his surroundings, pulling out his tricorder to scan around them.
The lighting level in this section of the ship was higher than usual for an Aralla ship, but still fairly low. Visibility was about thirty metres before inky darkness claimed the light.
However, dim shapes could be made out in the gloom beyond the veil of darkness, and Data quickly verified their existence and location. Three Aralla lurked just out of range of vision, and it was only a mercy that they had not seen the transporter beam. Data nodded to Worf, who raised his rifle, and activated the small light on the top of the barrel.
The three Aralla stood transfixed in the beam for a brief second before three silent shots from Worf's rifle felled them. The Klingon lowered the illegal TR-116 and nodded to Data, who scanned again and then shook his head. 'Clear.'
The Klingon led the way, keeping the rifle ready, and his eyes peeled. Data shadowed him, scanning ahead.
They continued in this fashion for ten minutes, not encountering a single Aralla, until Data hissed, 'Stop!'
Worf froze, allowing Data to pass him, and say, 'There's a corner about fifty metres ahead of us. I'm reading concentrated numbers of lifeforms around it.'
'Aralla?'
Data paused, checking the tricorder. 'I'm not sure.'
'Suggestions?'
'Carry on, but check what's around that corner first. Then we'll make a decision.'
'Agreed,' said Worf, and slipped past Data, gliding noiselessly to the corner. He peered around.
Data came up behind him. 'What's there?'
Worf looked around at him, and Data was surprised to see that his face was pale. 'You'd better look for yourself.'
Data looked around, and saw what lay beyond.
Huge tanks of clear glass rested to either side of a narrow walkway that also had a series of narrow protrusions that ended in consoles bearing strange data. Fog filled the air, making the sight slightly eerie. The area was deserted, and Worf and Data started to walk through.
Huge clear cylinders extended down into the tanks, pumping a strange cloudy liquid into them. But the tanks and the complex apparatus was not what concerned the two Starfleet officers.
Data and Worf glanced up as a clanking sound reverberated through the chamber, and footsteps could be heard in the near distance. The two intruders slipped back around the corner into the dark corridor, watching what happened.
An Aralla walked from out of the fog, carrying a small canister of green gelatinous slime. Stopping at one of the tanks, it opened a small hatch and inserted the canister end-first into the tank.
Then it looked straight at Worf. A single shot from the TR-116 caught it clean in the head, killing it without a sound. It collapsed, and the canister fell to the walkway, smashing on impact.
The crash reverberated around the compartment, and Data and Worf froze, but no further sounds could be heard other than the low humming of the equipment. Data took a few steps toward the dead Aralla, scanning ahead but detecting nothing. He glanced at the open hatch in the tank – and froze in horror. 'Worf!' His shout, not quietened, alerted Worf to a problem, and he rushed to the android's side, rifle raised.
'What?' Data silently pointed a trembling finger at the hatch, and Worf glanced in.
It housed a small, spider-like creature resting on a black, velvet-like material. The purple and green creature had two pincers at one end, and three legs on either side with a small tail at it's back end. Data let out a long breath in utter horror.
'Worf, the conspiracy –' Data stuttered the words, 'the conspiracy, fifteen years ago, it was these parasites – the Aralla!'
Worf looked at him, recalling the events on Earth, the destructive infiltration of the Admiralty by the parasites, the long search by the Enterprise to locate and destroy them. 'They said that they came from an unexplored planet –'
'Emeralle II was unexplored at the time. Only Romulan data that we captured allowed Starfleet to name the planet and have some idea of what was there. We never realised that the homing signal that Commander Remmick was transmitting was directed there.'
'Was it?'
'I bet when we check the data, we'll find that it was.'
'But the Aralla are not from this galaxy –'
'I know! But Emeralle II was the planet that hid the dimensional rift that the Aralla came through in the first place -! Damn! It's all so obvious!'
'What?' asked Worf, casting nervous glances around him, not sure how long they would have.
'The entire invasion!' Data looked at Worf. 'The parasites that invaded and nearly captured Starfleet Command were obviously the first line in the Aralla invasion. Like any other invasion force, they sent a scouting force through the gate to find out what the opposition consisted of. Once that failed to report back, they sent the second scouts through – the parasites.'
'What was the first force?' asked Worf.
'The two city destroyers that were defeated by the Romulans last century. The parasites were there to infiltrate and knock out what was considered the greatest threat to the Aralla – Starfleet and the Federation. Once they failed, the Aralla would have made new plans. The Aralla have been planning this war for the last hundred years! I really need to talk to Admiral Picard when we get back.' Data stopped, and took a breath. 'However, this can wait until the mission is over. We have a job to do – let's get on with it.'
'What about that?' said Worf, jerking a thumb at the creature in the tank.
Data nearly gave in to his dark swirling anger, but then pulled back and he closed the hatch. 'Let's get out of here.' They walked quickly through the room, Data scanning, but his mind not really on the task.
They encountered a large door about a hundred metres down the corridor, one which the Aralla they had killed had obviously come through. Data scanned it, but frowned. 'My tricorder can't detect anything past it. It's made of some sort of resistant alloy.' He holstered the tricorder.
'I suggest that we open it,' said Worf slinging the rifle over his broad shoulders.
'Worf?'
'Yes?'
'Why the TR-116? You do realise that it's illegal.'
'I know,' said Worf, turning and giving him a feral grin – or, at least, baring his teeth. 'However, it's not an energy weapon, and I'm betting that the Aralla use some form of internal security sensors to detect energy discharges. It's one of the best ways, on a ship this size, to detect intruders, due to the high density of lifeforms onboard. Some of us are also capable of hypothesising.'
Data winced at this. 'I apologise, Worf. I have been most insulting.'
'I'm not concerned,' said Worf, turning and giving him a solemn look, 'but you were most abrupt and aloof on our time aboard Voyager. I think Captain Janeway and her crew are the ones who deserve your apology.'
Data nodded sadly. 'I still have an apology for you, Worf,' he said contritely. 'If you will take it.'
Worf smiled again, this time with genuine warmth and clapped an arm around Data. 'I accept, Data! Remember, we are old friends – I would not let anything like that get in the way of our friendship.'
Worf turned away, sinking back into his warrior mode, and examined the door. An extremely heavy-looking door, it had no obvious handles or controls to open it. However, it had several holes along the frame, which Worf assumed to be the places the Aralla would plant their tentacles to open the door. He tested them, and saw that he could get enough of a grip to pull the door towards him.
It swung easily, so easily that he and Data stepped back in shock as it opened silently for such a heavy-looking door and allowed them a look through -
Into familiar territory for Data. The black chasm that he and Odo had fled along was on the other side of the door that Worf opened, with the walkway that they had used at their feet. To their left, the black wall dropped away into darkness, from whence came the clanks and groans of memory.
'Let's go,' said Data grimly, and he and Worf unslung their weapons and made their way along the walkway.
Their pace increased now. Soon, the bodies they had left in their wake would be found, and the Aralla would be alerted to their presence. They needed to have reached the docking bay and located a suitable fighter by then.
The next hour was taken by moving briskly along the walkway, not running, but moving quickly. They still had plenty of time to accomplish their objectives.
Tuvok's console bleeped at him, and he looked up at Janeway. 'There is a wing of attack planes approaching our position,' he said calmly, as if he were presenting a routine report.
'ETA?'
'Two minutes.'
Janeway looked back at the screen. 'Any indication that they've noticed us yet?'
'Not as yet. It appears to be part of their normal patrol pattern. We will be in scanner range in thirty seconds.'
'I'm not taking the chance,' said Janeway. 'Ensign Foster, take us to a point one light year away. Warp three.'
'Aye, sir,' said the helmsman.
The starship turned and vanished into warp silently. A moment later, the fighters swept around the curve of the planet, and held their position.
Janeway stared at the sensor image from safety. 'Damn,' she said softly. 'I was hoping to get back there once they leave.'
'They've obviously realised that planet's a tactical blind-spot,' said Chakotay.
'We'll have to return for the away team once they signal, unless those fighters move.' Janeway looked away from the screen for a moment. 'Bridge to Astrometrics.'
'Kim here.'
'Ensign, have you completed those scans?'
'I can't make anymore to the depth that Captain Data requested, so I suppose so,' answered the young man.
'Very well. Transmit them to my ready room, and return to the bridge,' Janeway ordered.
'Aye, Captain.'
'Are you going to look at them?' asked Chakotay.
'Yes. I'm going to find what our precious Data is looking for. And work out why.' Without a further word, she turned and left the bridge.
Worf and Data hurried along the walkway now, convinced that their actions were about to be uncovered. To have been left alone for the period that they had been was nothing short of a miracle, and they both knew it. Data's rifle was pointed towards the floor, but Worf's was cradled in his right arm, pointed and ready to fire.
An alarm suddenly blared out and a harsh, alien rasping noise accompanied it. Data recognised the alarm. 'They've found us!' he yelled over the noise.
Worf nodded silently, and they increased their pace to a flat-out run.
The huge spotlight that Data remembered suddenly flashed into life, surprising Worf enough to make him stumble slightly.
The drop of his body, however slight, saved his life. A beam of blue energy flashed across the chasm and burnt a hole in the wall in front of Data's run. They dashed onwards, but Worf took his phaser and aimed a beam of energy into the centre of light. However, this time a green field of light, barely visible in the actinic glare, flashed into being, blocking the beam of energy.
Worf growled something unintelligible, and ran on, tucking the phaser away.
A storm of fire erupted from the chasm and tracked Data and Worf as they ran.
Data felt it creeping up behind him, getting closer, and knowing that they could not outrun it any longer –
He saw the long, bright corridor before him, and with one last effort, pushed Worf into it.
Both of them rolled to a stop, safe from the energy storm that had dogged them.
Worf had his rifle and phaser out, moving from his uncontrolled roll to a warrior's crouch, scanning the way ahead, and nodded his thanks to Data. Data smiled back. 'We'd better get moving. They'll be sending people both ways to cut us off.'
'Correct,' said Worf, and they pushed on.
They rounded the corner -
In front of them was the docking bay. A window gave them the view of the huge bay that housed the thousands of attack planes, all waiting to be deployed against the enemies of the Aralla, the blue fog pervading the bay like mist in an orchard.
Worf looked out of the window, stunned by the sheer size of it. Data had seen it before, but he was still awed by it's monstrous proportions that seemed to be oversized even by Aralla standards.
'Come on,' he said brusquely to the Klingon, tearing his gaze away, 'this way.'
They started along the new corridor, still hearing the alarm in the distance. But, like most of the Aralla ship, this section seemed to be deserted, something that Data could not understand. Why should an invasion force of such size be so badly undercrewed?
'Down!' shouted Worf, slightly ahead of Data. As Data turned to look, a beam of blue energy sizzled past his face, scorching the wall to his left. He fell, and Worf aimed a shot from the rifle at a single Aralla before them. It toppled over, tentacles waving wildly.
Worf checked the TR-116, and then dropped it to the floor. 'Empty,' he said, unslinging the phaser rifle. He and Data clambered to their feet and rushed onwards.
The corridor took the turns and twists that Data expected, affording them occasional looks at the docking bay, but now they were in even more of a hurry. The Aralla knew that they were heading for the docking bays, and that they were well-armed.
Suddenly, they ran past a branching corridor that Worf ignored, but Data glanced in and his eyes widened at the surprise that greeted him.
Twenty Aralla stormed towards them, silent but purposeful. They were armed with a variety of weapons, that unleashed a storm of energy towards the android.
Data ducked, rolled, and, as the Aralla entered the main corridor, opened up with his phaser rifle, cutting two of them down. Worf had obviously seen the problem, because he fired a pair of shots into a single Aralla, sending the creature to the floor.
A pair of tentacles whipped out and wrested the rifle from Data's hands, and as he scrabbled for his other phaser, lashed him and sent him crashing to the deck. Another tentacle whipped out and caught Data's left leg and held him in place as the Aralla jumped upon him instantly.
A shot from Worf caught one of the Aralla in the head, sending it crashing back. The second creature flashed a tentacle towards a nearby control. It touched it as the Klingon blasted it.
A bright blue energy field surrounded Worf, who dropped the rifle and phaser he carried hastily. Data felt the type-one phaser tucked into his belt grow red-hot in a matter of moments, but he concentrated on fighting the Aralla that struggled to subdue him.
Worf grabbed his bat'leth and moved in closer. His first swing decapitated an Aralla and he finished it with a stab in the back. He withdrew it in a fluid movement, and slashed down another with a single swipe.
He closed with the others, and in a fast, slashing whirl of metal, finished them. Then he turned his attention to those attacking Data. A swift movement drew one of them out and he took it apart in a welter of purple blood.
Data punched one of the Aralla and turned his attention to the others. Displaying his android strength, he forced himself to his feet, and threw the Aralla aside.
Six Aralla stared silently as the Starfleet officers moved closer together, side by side. Data took his phaser from his belt, noting that it had cooled down again and set it to kill. Worf had his face set in the classical Klingon pose of insane bloodlust, and looked like one of the mythical statues of Kahless that he possessed.
Data whispered, 'Start walking backwards. Let them make the running.' Worf made no signal that he had heard the android, but they both began taking slow steps backward, away from the Aralla that faced them.
Data's foot brushed something, and he glanced back, seeing the phaser rifle that he had dropped. He knelt slowly, not taking his eyes off the approaching Aralla. Then, he dropped his eyes for a brief moment as he gripped the rifle.
The Aralla struck. They charged forward, slashing at the two intruders. Data felled one with his phaser, and then took a tentacle across the face, and he fell again.
He still gripped the rifle, but found himself forced to struggle with an Aralla, who was concentrating merely on keeping him out of the battle with Worf.
Worf stood in a slight crouch, moving in a slow circular motion, swinging the bat'leth in a deadly protective arc. Occasionally one of the Aralla would take a probing swipe at him, but he would easily fend it off with the bat'leth. Concentrating on the quartet facing him, he spared no glance for Data, who struggled silently against the single Aralla for the phaser rifle.
Then, the four Aralla facing Worf split up into two groups, which tried to encircle him. he backed off, his expression not changing, but his eyes darted from side to side, trying to find a way out.
He then lunged at one Aralla, killing it quickly, and moved onto the next before the group had time to react. As the others closed in from behind, Worf desperately fought and defeated the other Aralla, kicking it to the deck. He turned, just in time to parry a pair of thrusts from the Aralla closing him down. Data could only see a desperately flashing bat'leth as they surrounded Worf.
The android decided to take matters into his hand. He let go of the rifle, forcing the Aralla to fall back slightly, and swung an arm, clubbing the Aralla back. He redoubled his efforts, punching the Aralla before him and forcing it back even further. Data kicked it once in the head, and clambered to his feet, grabbing the rifle and turning to shoot the others in the back. As he did so, he saw the bat'leth wrested from Worf's grip and held up by one Aralla.
He aimed the rifle, and then saw Worf grab his mek'leth from his belt, even as the Aralla held his other blade, and slash them both across the midriff. The two Aralla fell, leaving only Worf stood, mek'leth raised, hair wild, the very picture of the ultimate Klingon warrior.
Worf lowered the blade, and stepped across to Data, bloodlust fading from his eyes as he did so. 'We'd better get on,' he said. Data nodded, and turned to face the docking bay as Worf retrieved his weapons.
He spotted a small tube, extending from of the long pillars to a single attack plane. He decided on a plan.
He turned to face Worf and said, 'I've found a good candidate for capture.'
Worf turned in the act of grabbing his bat'leth and said, 'Good –'
At that precise second the Aralla that had stolen his weapon reared up and stabbed Worf through the stomach with his own blade.
As the Klingon fell, stunned surprise on his face, Data brought his phaser rifle around and shot the Aralla mercilessly in the head. It crashed to the deck, dead at last.
Data rushed to Worf's side, kneeling and staring into the dying warrior's eyes. 'Worf!' His voice was anguished, desperate, filled with pain at losing such good friend. 'Worf!' To his surprise, the Klingon's eyes opened, and stared at Data, pain filling them.
Worf reached out a shaking hand, and said hoarsely, 'Data, finish the mission. Qapla, old friend.'
He looked up at the ceiling, eyes glazing over, and whispered, 'Sto-Vo-Kor....' His eyes flickered to look at Data for a brief second, his breath faded, and Worf slumped back, dead. He stood, and raised his phaser, setting it to its highest level.
Eyes tearing, he growled, 'They won't take your body!'
He fired. The body dematerialised in a red glow and vanished, leaving no trace of the honourable warrior. Data bowed his head, feeling as if he had lost part of his soul. Again, he had looked into the eyes of death, those of Riker and now Worf. He had seen his own end there, in those final fleeting seconds of life.
Data finally roused himself, remembering Worf's last words. He picked up the bat'leth and mek'leth that Worf had left behind, vowing to keep some part of his friend alive, and headed on alone.
A few minutes later, he arrived at the location he had pinpointed. On his level (He couldn't think how the Aralla got from level to level without some form of turbolift) the long thin tube extended to the attack plane in the middle distance. A small compartment, big enough four eight people, with a large console beneath a small window allowed three Aralla to look out at the fighter.
Data took one of the photon grenades and set it for stun. He tossed it silently into the small room, and swiftly ducked back, closing his eyes.
A huge white flash, but no noise, erupted from the room. After a second, Data looked back in.
The three Aralla lay on the floor, stunned by the blast of pure energy. Stepping over to the console, Data quickly worked out which controls operated the docking bay. The long tube pulled the attack plane towards the compartment, turning it so that the stern mated with the airlock to Data's left. A red light flashed on above the airlock as the pressures equalised and then turned green. The door immediately swung open.
A single Aralla, carrying what was obviously a padd, stared at Data, as stunned as the android was. A blast from the phaser rifle sent him crashing to the deck. Data grabbed the body and threw it into the compartment. He stepped aboard.
Before him were three seats, the centre one raised slightly higher than the others by a dais, and it was this one that had the controls before it. Data deposited his equipment on the left seat, and settled at the controls. They consisted of a simple two-pronged steering handle, and a few buttons on the grips, probably linked to the firing system. He settled himself, and quickly checked the controls. They were covered with alien script, but symbols on certain buttons gave him clues as to how they worked.
He pressed a few, and was rewarded by the lights activating, running across the panels and the controls, lighting up the interior of the dark fighter. A surge of power, signalled by a loud humming noise, indicated that the engines were ready.
Data pulled the grips gently towards him, but gained no reaction from the craft. He pushed them forward, but there was still no movement. He scanned the panel, and saw a red illuminated button with a picture of what appeared to be a clamp on it. He pushed it, and the craft dropped slightly with a loud clang.
Clamps attached to the fighter released, and the tether from the compartment also fell away. Data pulled the grips towards him gently.
The little fighter shot forward, reacting to the slightest touch of Data's hands. The android realised what a superbly manoeuvrable little fighter this was, and why it had consistently outperformed the equivalent ships in the Fleet. He aimed it towards the entrance.
The fighter shot away.
The commander whirled in his seat, staring at the tiny fighter that zoomed away into the fog. He pressed a few controls, and then mentally snarled an order to destroy the fighter. The intruders had captured it.
As the attack plane soared past the pillars weaving gently to and fro between the pillars, Data relaxed into his piloting. He thought back to Worf's death, and the sadness which had accompanied it, but he also recalled Worf's last words. Sto-Vo-Kor. It meant that Worf had seen the afterlife for the honourable warrior, and would spend all eternity in the halls of the dead. Small comfort for Data, but for Worf it was the final achievement in the lives of the great Klingon warrior – an honourable death.
And for Worf especially, a Klingon raised among humans, who had clung to his culture and the Klingon way of life better than many Klingons raised entirely in their own society because it was all he had, it was an even greater achievement. General Martok would be highly proud, for he had taken a special interest in Worf.
He, however, would not have to explain this to Captain Sisko. No, that would be Data's difficult duty –
A salvo of energy pulses flashed past Data's fighter, rousing him from his thoughts. He jerked the fighter to port, avoiding another blast. He turned, and saw the squadron of Aralla ships hunting him. Another shot just missed him to starboard, and he swung the fighter into a series of evasive manoeuvres as he desperately searched for a way out.
Data ducked involuntarily as a beam of bright energy lanced out at him from one of the huge twisting pillars, forcing him to dodge. He twisted and turned the fighter, avoiding a storm of fire that erupted from the pillar, and he pulled away from it. Behind him, the Aralla fighters hung doggedly to his every move.
'Yes!' he shouted, spotting the huge opening that signalled the exit of the docking bay. He gunned the engines for all they were worth, and blazed towards it. He also pressed the armband to transmit the signal to Voyager.
'Bridge to captain!' Chakotay's alarmed call roused Janeway from her reading. 'We've received the signal!'
'Warp factor two! Get us into that area! Shields up! Red alert!' Janeway barked the commands as she got up and rushed onto the bridge.
She dropped into her command seat. Foster turned to her. 'Course plotted and laid in, captain.'
'Engage!' Janeway looked up at the main screen, thinking about the confrontation ahead. 'All hands to battle stations!'
To Data's surprise, the Aralla made no attempt to close the huge door that provided the artificial barrier to space. He coasted down the long passage towards space, evading the Aralla fighters' attempts to shoot him down.
He blazed out into space to see the hundreds of Aralla fighters outside all grouping together to attack – and no sign of Voyager. A salvo of fire launched towards him, leaving no room to hide. He covered his eyes, convinced that he had met his end –
The Intrepid-class starship appeared before him, no more than fifty kilometres dead ahead. The Aralla fire slammed into her shields, whilst Data barely forced his fighter underneath the Voyager, just avoiding a crash.
'Talk about nick of time!'
'Nice work, ensign,' congratulated Janeway. Foster's inspired piloting had landed them directly in front of the Aralla taskforce attacking Data's fighter. Voyager unleashed a broadside of phaser fire into the shields of the mother ship, providing cover fire for Data. The attack planes regrouped and opened fire on the starship, pounding the shields. A phaser beam, devastating in its outpouring of lethal energy, blew apart a pair of fighters, forcing the others to break off.
Kim suddenly spotted a worrying energy build-up and he shouted, 'The mother ship is preparing to fire!'
'All hands, brace –!' began Chakotay, but then the Aralla fired.
A thin beam of energy lanced out and struck the shields of Voyager. A huge concussion rang through the ship as she lurched wildly to starboard, throwing crewmen from their positions. Tuvok shouted as he fought to regain his position, 'Shields down forty percent!'
'This is Data!' called another voice over the commotion, and Janeway looked up. 'I'm directly astern of Voyager! Cover me and prepare to drop shields!'
'Drop shields! Are you crazy?' replied the captain angrily.
'Don't argue!' The channel cut, and Janeway turned her anger on the Aralla.
'Fire photon torpedoes, Mr. Tuvok!'
Aft, the bright projectiles slammed into the pack of fighters attacking both Voyager and Data's fighter. A huge explosion ripped them apart, leaving only sparkling wreckage tumbling wildly from the conflagration to mark their passing.
The speaker suddenly activated. 'Drop shields!'
'Do as he says, Harry!' commanded Janeway. Praying desperately, the young ensign dropped the shields.
The fighter blazed towards the shuttle bay and reached the bay of the Voyager in a second. Cutting the engines, Data held on for dear life.
It flew into the bay, uncontrolled, even by Data's firm grip on the controls. Then, it jerked hard to a stop, throwing Data forward, and he barely prevented his head from hitting the console before him. He looked at the shuttlebay bulkhead, two meters away. Four tractor beams had caught him and now held the attack plane securely in place.
Janeway looked around at Kim, who said, 'The plane is aboard, Captain!' The captain swivelled quickly, to face Foster.
'Ensign, plot an escape course! Warp –'
The mother ship fired again, but this time, Voyager was unshielded.
A massive blast threw Voyager to starboard again, but the explosion blew out one of the main EPS conduits on the bridge, knocking out the lights and starting a massive blaze in the science consoles.
Janeway grabbed the edge of the helm console, watching as Foster programmed the course change in. Illuminated by the flickering firelight, she waited until the change was correctly inputted and then said, 'Engage!'
As she said that, the mother ship fired one last time, blasting the stardrive section. A huge ball of fire burst from the underside of the starship.
On the bridge, the explosion rocked the Voyager so hard that everybody was thrown about. Janeway lost her grip on the console, and was thrown hard across the bridge. She was carried over the bridge rail, and crashed into the aft science consoles with a sickening crunch.
Chakotay stumbled forward to the helm, from where Foster had been thrown, and hammered in the engage command.
The starship soared over the mother ship, trailing fire and avoiding the last Aralla fire. Clearing the battle, she lifted her warp nacelles, and vanished into warp.
Tuvok ran to where Janeway lay, her head in a strange position. He looked at Kim. 'Beam the captain to sickbay!'
'Are we being pursued, Tuvok?' asked Chakotay, relinquishing the helm to Foster, who cradled her arm with a grimace of pain.
Tuvok stood over Janeway's body, not hearing Chakotay. The first officer leaned over the rail to stare at the tactical officer. 'Are we being pursued, Lieutenant Commander?'
Tuvok turned and stared into Chakotay's eyes, fire blazing there, something that Chakotay had never seen from the cool Vulcan. Just then, Harry Kim said, 'Energising,' and Janeway's body turned into light, and vanished.
Tuvok breathed deeply, and the fire vanished. He stood, and made his way to his console, watched by a worried and frightened Chakotay, who had thought that the Vulcan might attack him. 'The mother ship has remained in position.'
'Is the attack plane aboard?' asked Chakotay of Kim, trying to keep his mind on the job in hand, putting his worries about Janeway to the back of his mind.
'Yes, Commander,' said Kim tensely, his face upset.
Chakotay deliberately slowed his heart down by breathing deeply and calmly. 'I'll be in sickbay,' he said. 'Stay here!' he ordered Tuvok.
The Vulcan nodded tightly. Chakotay left the bridge.
In sickbay, the Doctor worked feverishly at the surgical table in a desperate attempt to save Janeway's life. Chakotay came in just in time to see the EMH throw down a laser scalpel in fury. The Doctor looked up to see Chakotay's worried face, his own haggard.
The EMH took a deep shuddering breath, and faced the first officer. 'Commander, it is my terrible duty to inform you that Captain Janeway is dying. I cannot do anything for her. At the moment she's under a general anaesthetic on life support and she can survive for a few days like that. However, if I bring her out of it, even on life support she'll die in a matter of minutes, but I can counteract the pain with a local anaesthetic.' Chakotay's face grew grim, and his eyes filled with more pain at the burden.
'If you leave the anaesthetic on, she'll die anyway but she'll never wake up?' he asked after a moment, his voice raw. The Doctor nodded silently. Chakotay made the worst decision of his life. 'Switch off the anaesthetic field.'
'Are you sure, Commander?'
'Yes!' shouted Chakotay. The Doctor took a step back, and Chakotay held out his hand, apologetic. 'I'm sorry. She would not want to die if she thought the battle had been a failure. She deserves to know that we succeeded. I owe her that.'
The EMH nodded slowly. He turned to the bio-bed, and pressed a control. He turned to Chakotay, face solemn. 'I'll leave you alone.'
He turned and left, leaving Chakotay looking at Janeway's pale face. 'Captain?' He took her hand, cradling it in his.
Janeway opened her eyes. Chakotay felt his heart stop for a moment as he saw the pain in her eyes. 'What's happened? What am I doing here?' Chakotay gripped her hand, determined to tell her the truth.
'I'm sorry, Captain. You were critically injured during the Aralla attack. The Doctor couldn't do anything for you.'
'The mission?' whispered the captain, her voice weak, but eyes determined.
'A success. The Aralla did not follow us, and we have the fighter onboard and safe.'
Janeway's body relaxed, her eyes closed and for a brief second, Chakotay feared she had left him. Then her eyes opened again, and stared resolutely into those of her friend's.
Slowly, her hand gripped one of the pips on her collar, and strength fading, she pressed it into Chakotay's hand. 'Commander Chakotay, I hereby promote you to Captain of the USS Voyager, under my authority as a captain in Starfleet,' she gasped out.
Her voice trailed away and she stared at her first officer one last time. 'Take them home,' she whispered.
Her eyes closed, her head fell back, and she stopped breathing.
From the far corner of the sickbay, the Doctor watched, silently, as Chakotay pressed her cold hand to his cheek and wept for Kathryn Janeway.
The Doctor appeared on the bridge, his mobile emitter on his arm. The entire bridge crew looked at him anxiously.
Finally, Tuvok asked, in a shaking voice, 'Doctor, how is the captain?'
'Captain Janeway died a few moments ago,' said the Doctor, his voice bitter.
Torres slammed a fist onto the console, Kim turned away, and Tuvok bowed his head, Vulcan composure broken at last. He fought to get a grip on himself, and stared at the EMH as the hologram continued, 'Her last act was to promote Chakotay to captain in her place. However, he is not yet ready to resume his duties.'
Tuvok nodded. 'Tell him that we will be waiting for him.'
The Doctor nodded, and vanished again.
'Lieutenant Torres,' said Tuvok, 'prepare for transwarp. We must return to the Fleet.'
Torres nodded sadly, and activated the drive. 'Who will tell the crew?' she asked.
Tuvok stared into space. 'I do not know.'
Chakotay emerged from the sickbay, face drawn and pallor pale. Walking down the corridor as if in a trance, he drew worried and shocked stares from the crewmen he passed, but those he ignored, angry and devastated as he was. In one clenched fist he held the single pip of rank.
Then, Data emerged from one of the side corridors. 'Commander Chakotay?'
Chakotay stopped dead in the corridor, before slowly turning an fixing a hate-filled glare upon the other officer. 'What?'
'I wished to speak with Captain Janeway. Is she on the bridge?'
Chakotay's next words were a hissed whisper, fury written strong in every syllable. 'Captain Janeway is dead.'
Data nodded slowly. 'I am sorry. I would assume that you are the new captain?'
The storm of Chakotay's rage broke hard against the shores of his consciousness. 'Yes, I am!' His shout resounded through the corridor, leaving him shaking and pointing a finger at Data. 'You are responsible for that, android! A great officer lies dead in sickbay because of your actions! I am captain because of you, and I hate you for that! You will be aboard this ship until we reach the Fleet! Make sure that I don't see you for any of that time!'
Face red, body shaking with anger and distress, Chakotay turned and stormed down the corridor, leaving the shocked Data in his wake.
Chakotay stepped onto the bridge of the starship, calmer now, but still hurting inside. It was typical of Starfleet regulations that after the horrifying death of one of his closest friends, he would be forced to take her place over immediately. But he owed it to Kathryn.
The bridge crew turned their gazes upon him. Tuvok, resolute, but pain flickering in his eyes, nodded slowly to him. Kim, face devastated, watched as Chakotay stepped to the centre of the bridge. Torres exchanged a glance with him, and Chakotay could see her hurt.
For a moment, Chakotay managed to release his pain and horror. The crew was wounded by the death of the strong unifying factor at the centre of Voyager, for Janeway had welded this disparate group into a strong family by the force of her personality. Her loss might rip this crew apart, but Chakotay did not intend for that to happen. They had lost too much for that to happen now – Tom Paris, Seven of Nine....
Chakotay took one glance around the bridge, before he said, 'All hands. This is Captain Chakotay. A few short moments ago, Captain Janeway was killed during the Aralla attack. Her final act was to promote myself to captain of this crew.'
Chakotay paused a moment. 'Kathryn Janeway often referred to us as "family", and in a sense, she was right. We are the unique blend of Maquis and Starfleet crews, under her tutelage and leadership. She was our "mother", as well as our captain.'
He took another deep breath. 'And, like all families, we have had the bad times as well as the good times. This is a bad time. Loss has afflicted us all. And now a bright light has gone from the centre of our lives. We must continue, not allowing this to tear us apart. We are still in the middle of the Delta Quadrant, but we are now closer to home than we have ever been. Captain Janeway would have wanted us to stay to help the Fleet against the Aralla, and I intend to do so.' Chakotay stopped, and realised that there was nothing more he could say. 'I want us to make Captain Janeway proud – if I know this crew, we will. Chakotay out.'
He turned to look at the bridge crew, and noted that despite the sadness that remained, they looked buoyed up by his speech, and determination, saddened as it was, had entered their stances.
Chakotay turned to face Tuvok, and glanced at Kim and Torres. 'I would speak with you in the captain's ready room.' Somehow, it did not yet feel right to call it his own.
As the door closed behind Kim, Chakotay faced them all, stood in front of Janeway's old desk. 'Captain Janeway's death has left a hole that I intend to fill quickly. We cannot afford this to affect our morale too steeply.'
'I agree,' said Tuvok in his solemn voice. 'I suggest that we hold a memorial service for the captain.'
Chakotay took this in. 'I'll think about it. Captain Janeway always impressed on me that we have to concentrate more on the future than on the past – a wise decision, considering the way in which this crew was born. I'm not sure that that might be counter-productive.'
No-one responded, so Chakotay moved on. 'The first act must be to reaffirm and consolidate the command structure. We've lost two key bridge personnel and we need to replace them. I am captain now, and I need a first officer. Mr. Tuvok, I want you to be that officer.'
Tuvok nodded, acknowledging the logic in the decision. 'I am honoured.'
'You will be promoted to full Commander. B'Elanna, I want to promote you to Lieutenant-Commander. You'll also become second officer.'
B'Elanna frowned, but did not question the decision. 'Thank you, Chakotay.'
'Harry,' said the Captain, 'I've decided to place you in charge of Astrometrics now. You're promoted to Lieutenant.'
Harry tried to look pleased, but could only muster a half-hearted smile. 'Thank you, captain.'
Chakotay looked back at them all. 'I like the circumstances of your promotions as little as you do, but needs must. We need to get back onto an even keel as soon as possible, and I know that you will all do the best you can to accomplish that.'
'We will do our best,' agreed Torres. 'We always have.'
Chakotay nodded sadly. 'Dismissed.'
After they had left, Chakotay turned to the desk behind him. Before he had come to the bridge, he had retrieved his medicine bundle from his quarters, and this he now unwrapped.
He took the tattooed stone from the wrapping, and clasped it in both hands. He whispered to the spirits of his forefathers. 'I ask that you guide a friend on her spiritual journey. She has died, knowing only pain and loss. Grant her safety, and make her journey successful. Akootche-moya.'
'Sir,' said Commander Hedly's voice, and Picard glanced up. 'We've received a transmission from Captain Data on the Voyager. He wishes to speak with you.'
'Patch him through,' said Picard, dropping the padd he was working on, and swivelling the viewer on his desk. After a moment, Data's face appeared.
'Admiral,' greeted the android. 'We have successfully completed the mission. We have captured an attack plane.'
Picard smiled broadly. 'Excellent! Now we can begin planning for the final battle.'
Data nodded, but Picard noticed that the android looked unhappy. 'Data? Has something happened?'
The android nodded again, his face becoming miserable. 'I'm sorry, but Worf was killed during the away mission.'
Picard stared at the android for a moment, before closing his eyes briefly and whispering, 'Sacre merde!'
'I was forced to disintegrate his body,' said Data. 'He died fighting the Aralla.'
'As he would have wanted to,' said Picard quietly. He seemed to take this information and press it down. 'Very well. Any more news?'
Data nodded sadly. 'Captain Janeway was killed in the last exchange with the Aralla mother ship.'
Picard exhaled hard. 'This fighter has come at a high cost, Data. I hope you're right about it's use.'
'So do I,' agreed Data. 'I will present a full report to you once Voyager arrives back at the Unicomplex.'
'Good,' said Picard. 'Enterprise out.'
The screen blanked out, and Picard rested his elbows on the desk, burying his head in his hands. After a moment, he pressed the communicator. 'Seven of Nine to my ready room.'
After a moment, the ex-drone stepped through the door. 'You wished to see me, Admiral?'
Picard nodded. 'Sit down, Seven,' he said, motioning to the seat before him.
Seven did so, her impassive gaze trained on the Admiral. Picard ran his small speech once more through his mind, and then said, 'I regret to inform you that Captain Janeway has been killed in action against the Aralla.'
Seven stared at him for a moment before she whispered, 'How?'
'Details are sketchy at the moment. All I know is that in an exchange of fire between the Aralla mother ship and Voyager, Captain Janeway was killed.'
Seven closed her eyes for a brief second, and when she opened them again, Picard could read the pain inside them. For a moment, he was reminded of looking in the mirror after one of the nightmares that plagued his sleep regularly. 'If it would be acceptable,' said Seven eventually, 'I would like to spend some time with the crew of Voyager once they return. Captain Janeway was extremely important to all of us.'
Picard nodded. 'By all means. However, we need you to continue supervising the refits....' The unspoken question hung in the air. Seven responded.
'I will not neglect my duties, Admiral. The refits will continue.'
Picard nodded again. 'Very well. Dismissed.'
Data stood staring at the attack plane, dark against the shuttlebay, held in place by the tractor beams that had prevented its crash. Voyager was only a day away from the Fleet, but he awaited their return impatiently. The news of the Aralla plans had worried him severely, as he knew that it rendered all of their preparations for the coming battle worse than useless.
The blood that had paid for this fighter was on Data's hands. At absent moments, he sometimes found himself rubbing his hands together agitatedly. He would stop himself, but he would still do it, later....
Guilt pervaded his mind. Data had hoped that his lingering despair over Odo's and Riker's deaths would have faded, but his guilt over those of Janeway and Worf still remained. So he would come down to the shuttlebay, stare at the attack plane, and hope that it's use would outweigh that which it had cost.
And sometimes, if he was in a very paranoid state of mind, he would feel that he was being watched. He always put that down to the very organic look of the fighter, and also that he was in a receptive frame of mind.
He was wrong.
The small creature barely understood where it was. It stared silently at the tall shape in the corner of the bay, analysing, preparing, but never striking.
It was barely sentient by any normal stretch of definition, but still remained self-aware. Outside of the sustaining tanks, it was weak and defenceless, and needed a body to reside in. The mind had to be weak, ready for captivity.
That mind was not here, it's faint telepathic abilities told it. It settled back into the attack plane's shadows, waiting – prepared to wait as long as possible to accomplish it's task, one that was programmed into it's very genetic structure.
It waited.