Three
What use is there in repairing a dead ship? What purpose, if she is to travel no further? If the crew voiced these sentiments, they did so out of earshot of their Captain, who bumped and scraped and toiled along with the rest of them in the aftermath of the Pyrie's defeat. Whether Janeway herself felt any hope, none of them dared guess. What hope was there, in any case? The Delta Flyer's mission now seemed utterly pointless, for even if Chakotay was to return with news of a promised land ripe for colonisation, how would they ever reach it? Would the escape pods be able to make the journey? It was doubtful. And if they could not, well – that was their last chance lost for sure.
For some, even that hope was futile. Not everyone had escaped the Pyrie's death throes. Neelix had succumbed to his injuries even as Janeway had stood by his side in sickbay, watching the life ebb from his body along with the smile he had strived to keep in place throughout. The weight of his death was a crushing, unimaginable blow.
Janeway wished there was a way of contacting the out-of-range Delta Flyer. She wanted to recall Chakotay and Nicoletti immediately, with or without fresh supplies. Voyager needed her people – her remaining people – with her, not fragmented. For all the good it would do.
He was right, Janeway told herself, staring dumbly at yet another fused cable in yet another blown conduit. Chakotay was right, you know he was right. You knew he was right the moment the ship was too far past that planet to turn back and land. You should have told him. You should have apologised.
She made up her mind that she would. As soon as Chakotay was back, Kathryn Janeway would ask him for forgiveness, and hope that he would understand that her apology was for more than simply this last mistake. For a second, her tired mind wandered back to their last encounter before his departure. There had been no bridges built but she was reminded, suddenly, of the way his voice had dropped in timbre, just for a moment. A passing softness, one that she had once taken for granted.
Janeway momentarily struggled to draw breath. The air was thin. Power to the recyclers had been reduced, but even so, this was below the set parameters. They were running on empty. The residual power was almost gone.
She was about to start anew with the fused cable when Harry Kim's voice echoed through the empty corridor. He sounded more distant than the ten decks that stood between them.
"Bridge to Captain Janeway."
She tapped her combadge. "Janeway here."
"We've just picked up the Delta Flyer on short-range scans, Captain." The long-range sensors had given up long before the Pyrie's attack, and something in Harry's voice made her frown.
"Is there a problem, Ensign?"
"Ma'am – the shuttle appears to be damaged."
She was already running. "Give me a clearer report than that, Harry!"
He couldn't. Ship-wide communications chose that moment to give out.
By the time she got to the bridge, the Delta Flyer was on the viewscreen, the tell-tale claw marks of weapons fire raking up its sides. Janeway went straight to Harry's station, her fingers flicking through sensor reports one after another. What happened to not burning her out? The readings from the Flyer's warp core were dangerously unstable. Adrenaline coursed into Janeway's veins, her body's own version of red alert.
"Have you hailed them?"
"They appear to be experiencing difficulties with communication," Tuvok informed her.
"Try again. Keep trying until you reach them."
It took three attempts. Eventually a sketchy visual of the Flyer's interior came into view. Chakotay briefly glanced up in acknowledgement, but continued working at the helm. Beside him, Nicoletti was equally occupied, the two of them juddering as the Flyer threatened to shake itself to pieces around them.
"The core's too hot," she told him.
"Yes."
"It's going to fail."
"Yes." He thrust one hand up in a sweeping motion, sliding it over the length of the core's monitor. "Does Voyager have enough power for short-range transport?"
"Negative, Chakotay, we have zero power for transport."
He nodded, still not looking at her, as if he'd expected as much. "In that case we've only got one shot. Nicoletti, suit up."
"Sir-"
"Do it, Ensign. Voyager, the core is going to go critical at any moment. Nicoletti and I will suit up and exit the shuttle. If Voyager can turn to starboard and open the cargo bay, we'll aim for it with our suit thrusters. There should be just enough time to move Voyager at half-impulse to escape the core breach shockwave after we've made it home."
"Negative, Commander." A cold finger of fear probed at her heart. "Voyager has no engines. We don't even have thrusters. We can't move."
He looked at her then. Later, she would remember his eyes at that moment. How he had known, even before she had.
"Nothing?"
"We were attacked. We've lost a nacelle and only have enough power for internal systems. Soon enough we'll lose the viewscreen too. Get out of there, both of you. Set the Flyer's auto navigation to plot a course away from Voyager. We'll work out how to retrieve you both some other way."
Chakotay was still holding her in his gaze. Steady. Unwavering. "We don't have auto navigation."
Her heart froze. "What?"
"We're running on minimal systems. We were also attacked, Captain. We have no auto navigation."
The silence on the bridge was absolute. Janeway's heart refused to resume beating. An awful cold was radiating from it, tendrils of ice turning her to stone.
"Captain," Tuvok said, after a moment. "The Delta Flyer is currently on a collision course with Voyager."
She knew that. She knew it. And so did Chakotay. She could see it in his eyes as he looked at her and went on looking at her. For those moments, he wasn't unreachable, untethered in the cold void of space. He was right there, in front of her. Right there, just a breath, just an arm's reach-
Chakotay spoke without looking away. "Nicoletti, have you got that suit on yet?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Get to the airlock. Evacuate."
"But-"
"Do it, Ensign."
"Warp core breach in two minutes, Captain," said Tuvok.
Janeway was rigid. She knew the order she had to give, just as he did. One life, for 130. One life, for her entire remaining crew.
But this life?
His life?
Why not hers? Oh, why wasn't it hers?
"Warp core breach in one minute thirty seconds."
"Commander," she began, forcing herself to speak. "You still have manual controls?"
"Yes, Captain." His jaw did not lock. He remained calm, his face impassive. "I know what needs to be done. You don't have to-"
"I do," she said.
"Kathryn-"
"I do."
When she gave it – that order, those words – the voice didn't sound like hers. It came from a long way away. The real her was carved in granite, staring at him, etching his face into her mind as indelibly as the lines of his ancestors had been etched into his skin.
"Commander Chakotay. We have no functioning shields. The ship will not survive a direct impact. I need you to manually pilot the Delta Flyer away from Voyager."
For a second, she thought he was going to smile. "Aye, Captain."
The cold turned to pain, so suddenly that she was almost blinded by it. She couldn't breathe. Her legs were ready to buckle, but she forced herself to stand, eyes fixed on his face. She would not leave him alone, not in these last seconds of his life. What else could she do? Why was there always so little that she could do?
"Forty seconds to warp core breach," Tuvok said, quietly. "Ensign Nicoletti has reached Voyager."
"Chakotay." She said his name as if there were no reason to say anything else. There were tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Chakotay, I'm so sorry."
"It's all right," he told her, or perhaps she only read it in his eyes, because as her voice faded, the interior of the Delta Flyer bloomed with flame. A second later, the comm. link was severed.
On the viewscreen, the explosion glowed an incandescent blue in the void of space. Silent, utter destruction, so swiftly executed, as brutally unexpected as all death. A moment later, the Flyer was nothing but a halo of debris, radiating from where its form had once existed.
"All hands, brace for impact," Tuvok ordered.
Janeway left the bridge before the shockwave reached them. She stumbled through the doors of her ready room as the force pounded into Voyager's unprotected hull. The ship creaked and groaned but held herself in place, intact, the distance Chakotay had put between them enough to limit further catastrophe.
Janeway walked to her sofa beneath the stars, blind with pain. She buried her head against its soft cushions and tried to scream, but something in her had been torn out so successfully that try as she might, she could form no sound.
[TBC]