Two
Chakotay took Ensign Nicoletti with him.
Two days later the vultures came for Voyager.
Janeway had expected something like it. She and Tuvok had discussed the fact that, in her weakened state, the ship would make an attractive proposition to any passing alien race that might feel like chancing their arm. The very state that rendered Voyager all but useless to her crew was a red carpet to aggressors. For the ship, there was nowhere to run. Or rather, there was everywhere to run, but no means to do so.
Tuvok had staged battle drills every day since they had ground to a halt in the shadow of a large moon in a system that Janeway had made sure was uninhabited. Unfortunately, that didn't stop it being on the route of a race that harvested a mineral on the fourth planet that was useless to Voyager but invaluable to them. Initial interactions seemed relaxed and friendly. The Captain got B'Elanna to coax enough power into the conduits to run the bridge at full capacity during her first on-screen contact with the Pyrie. Appearances, after all, were everything. This was certainly the case for their new alien acquaintances. The Pyrie were a small race, their diminutive stature made up for by their muscular bodies and the intimidating nature of their large mandibles and cranial superstructure. Janeway had greeted them cordially, as if nothing at all was wrong and Voyager was simply languishing at her current coordinates for a brief respite. The Pyrie had no dilithium, but Neelix decided he could make something of their foodstuffs.
The usual course of diplomacy and trade in such a situation would have been to invite their new allies to Voyager to close the deal, but there was no way Janeway was allowing that to happen.
Perhaps, she mused later, that had been one of her biggest mistakes of all.
Voyager was still in residence the second time the Pyrie called into the system, and the third. With each of their visits, the Captain's anxiety levels rose a little more, particularly when communications with the aliens all but ceased.
The fourth time, the Pyrie attacked.
Voyager jerked as another rake of enemy fire dragged its way along her hull. Janeway clenched her fists as, on the view screen, she saw pieces of the ship's outer plating spinning like shrapnel into the void.
"Shields are down!" The hollow echo of Harry's voice delivered news that was news to no one.
"Bridge to Engineering!" Janeway shouted, over the hissing of severed conduits, "B'Elanna, can you get the shields back up?" Blood was dripping into her eye from a cut on her forehead. She wiped it away impatiently.
"Negative, Captain," came the chief engineer's voice, slurring through a communications system that had been rigged to run on less power. "I can give you power to torpedo tubes three and four. That's about it."
Through the viewscreen, Janeway could see the Pyrie vessel banking, preparing to take another run. "Do it. Now. Tom," she said, stepping to the pilot's side. "Listen carefully…" she outlined her plan in two brief sentences and he nodded, grimly.
"Captain." Tuvok's voice turned her towards him. "The Pyrie vessel's weapons are fully powered."
She moved to the centre of the bridge. "Harry, hail them."
A second later the sneering face of the Pyrie ship's captain appeared on the screen. Janeway wasted no time in preamble.
"All right," she said, raising both hands. "You know we can't take much more of this. Let's discuss terms."
"Terms?" inquired her counterpart, a hint of amusement in the gravel of her voice. "Captain, what makes you think you have anything to bargain with? You don't appear to be able to move, let alone fight." The voice hardened. "I want that ship."
"Will you agree to preserve the lives of my crew?"
The Pyrie captain tipped her head to one side, as if pondering the question. "I might."
"Give me your word and we'll surrender." The blood was trickling again, blinding her. Or perhaps she was just seeing red.
The Pyrie smiled, showing a row of sharp, rat-like teeth. "Very well, Captain. You have my word."
Janeway nodded, letting her shoulders sag. "Give us some time."
"No time," came the short reply. "Open your cargo bay doors and prepare to be boarded."
The Pyrie cut communication.
"Harry, do as she says."
"Captain…"
"That's an order, Ensign. Keep the Pyrie vessel on screen."
They watched in silence as their aggressors sailed closer. Theirs was an ugly ship, Janeway decided - pockmarked, patched and grey with age. Ugly. She crossed to Tom's chair again, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Not yet," she said, softly. Her head ached. "Wait… Wait…"
The Pyrie ship closed the distance painfully slowly, or at least so it seemed to those watching, breathless, on the bridge. When the shadow of Voyager's port nacelle cast long across its bow, Janeway squeezed Tom's shoulder.
"Now."
Paris flew into action. His fingers slid and tapped on the console and a second later, the ship was no longer sedentary. Voyager bucked forward at a pace she hadn't achieved in days. Tom pulled the ship around like a steer in a rodeo ring. The ship came hard to port, her starboard nacelle dropping as she swung, tossing the Pyrie ship out of her shadow and into her sights at such close quarters that Janeway could almost see the whites of her counterpart's eyes.
"Fire," she ordered.
The Pyrie got off a brief volley of charges before Voyager's torpedo speared her tail like a fish. The enemy vessel veered around, lurching into a spin that took her out of control as she imploded.
"Tom!"
"Evasive manoeuvres, aye Captain!" A split second later he turned to her, a look of fear in his eyes.
"She's gone. There's no power left."
The Pyrie ship careened towards the port nacelle, sparking and spitting, a grenade tossed straight at Voyager's unprotected centre.
"All hands, brace for-"
[TBC]