Six

The bridge had gone. The final remaining power conduit had overloaded. The resulting combustion had been forceful enough to rip another hole in the hull. Helm, tactical, ops, Janeway's command chair – they had all been taken by space, and what hadn't been torn asunder was a pile of wreckage. The bulkheads sealed off this latest of Voyager's wounds without protest, as if they knew that this was one battle the Captain was too weary to fight.

Like a caged animal she paced the corridor that led to the last remaining section of deck one, one hand to her forehead, trying to work out what to do. There was only one place to go.

The turbolifts were non-functional. Climbing between the decks with only one arm took patience as well as effort, and it took Janeway a long time to reach Engineering. She saw B'Elanna Torres as soon as she entered the cavernous space that had once been Voyager's heart. Now, it stood silent and empty of the hums and clicks that were its hallmark.

"There's nothing left, is there?" she asked, quietly.

The engineer shook her head. "No, Captain. There's nothing. Nothing at all."

Janeway nodded silently. It was clear to her now that not even a miracle could save Voyager. All she could hope for now was to save her crew.

B'Elanna's pregnancy was just beginning to show and as her chief engineer stood before her, her usually ebullient features etched in grey with stress and tiredness, Janeway's mind was made up for her. Where there was life, there was hope. There was no life left in Voyager, but there was life left in the people aboard her. It went against almost every voice within her to give the order to abandon ship – but it was time. In truth, it was past time.

"B'Elanna," she said, quietly, laying a hand on Torres' shoulder. "I need you to start spreading the word. We're evacuating Voyager. I need runners to inform each deck now the comm system's failed. Tell the crew to move to their assigned escape pods. Tell one from each deck to meet me at deck one."

The half-Klingon frowned at her. "You're sure that's a good idea, Captain?"

Janeway dropped her hand and took a step back with a frown. "It's all we can do. If we stay here any longer, the life of every crew member is at stake."

"But…" Torres bit her lip, looking around the too-silent space of Engineering. "This is home. And who knows what's around the corner? Captain, tomorrow we might have a visit from a friendly race, or-"

"Lieutenant," Janeway said, firmly. "You have your orders."

"Yes, Captain," said B'Elanna, dutifully. "I'll see to it."

This conversation troubled Janeway as she returned slowly to deck one, which housed the pods assigned to the bridge crew and command staff. It lingered in her mind, nagging at her, though she wasn't sure why.

Chakotay was waiting for her when she arrived at her destination. She was somewhat relieved to see that he was fully dressed – in uniform, this time. It didn't stop her thinking back to their encounter earlier, in her bed – to the fact that she had been able to touch him, just for a moment, as if he wasn't dead at all. But the uniform had long ago formed a barrier between them that was all but impenetrable and what she needed more than anything right now was to be able to focus.

"God knows I want to believe that you are really here," she told him, softly. "Out of anyone I would want to conjure into existence at this moment, you would be top of my list. But-"

He took a step forward, coming close enough to loom over her as he always had in life. Janeway remembered, briefly, taking in his height as a bare statistic when she'd first read his file, way back before they had even met – before she had forced them all into this fateful journey. She'd sat at her desk and noted his stature, knowing even before he'd materialised on her bridge that he would be a good head and shoulders over her. Kathryn had contemplated how to deal with such a disadvantage – it wasn't a new predicament for her, she was used to being more diminutive than the people in her command. But he was Maquis – a renegade, a guerrilla. He would undoubtedly press such a clear advantage.

It had been one of the first things that had surprised her about him, how lightly he carried his size. He could have wielded it like a sledgehammer, but he had chosen not to, at least not with her. He had chosen, instead, to spend seven years standing behind her, like a wall. Like a rock.

She missed him. It hit her anew like a smack in the face. She missed feeling him there, just behind her. She had, she realised at that moment, missed him for a long time. Janeway blinked back tears and shook her head.

"I have work to do," she said. "I don't have time to talk now."

Chakotay smiled. "I know. I'm just… here for moral support."

Despite herself, she laughed. "Well, I guess I could do with some of that."

"I thought so."

"Don't suppose you've got a transcendental pot of coffee hidden under that jacket, too?"

"Sorry. You'll have to make do with me."

"Ah, well," she said, heading for the escape pod controls. "As long as there is coffee in the afterlife, Chakotay. Because to be honest, if there isn't – that could be a real deal breaker."

There was a pause, and when he spoke, it was very close to her ear. For a second, she could have sworn she felt his breath against her cheek. "Trust me," he told her, softly. "You can have whatever you want, Kathryn. Whatever you want."

She swallowed as her heart beat a little faster in her chest. "You seem awfully sure of that, Commander."

He chuckled, and the sound quivered through her. Suddenly, she felt his hands, resting lightly on her shoulders. She tried not to react, but the weight of them – the reality of them – was too much. She reached up with her one hand and clasped her fingers over his.

"I'm sure," he told her. "And I am looking forward to showing you."

She let go of him, forcing herself to concentrate on the panel in front of her. The escape pods had their own secondary system, separate to the rest of the ship. It meant they would still have power even in the event of a catastrophic failure in the rest of the vessel. She tapped in a few commands to the keypad, frowning when there was no response.

Chakotay looked over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. This pod seems to be malfunctioning." Ignoring the sudden ball of tension that spun itself into her gut, Kathryn moved to the next pod. That one was dead too, as was the next. She rubbed a hand over her face. "I don't understand. The pod mechanisms on this deck all appear to be frozen."

The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor and she looked up to see Tom Paris approaching with a group of the crew.

"Problems, Captain?"

"Nothing insurmountable. The pod mechanism fail-safes appear to have been affected by Voyager's power drain, at least on this deck. But that doesn't mean that the pods themselves are non-functional. They run on a separate system. We'll need to manually release the doors to each and then, once inside, we'll have to do the same with the docking clamps. Make sure each deck knows that, all of you."

Tom nodded, but was silent.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?"

"Abandoning Voyager – it just seems… desperate, Captain. Where will we go? What will happen to us?"

Janeway stepped close to him, looking directly into his eyes. "We're survivors, Tom. We've survived for seven years and we'll survive for longer. All right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded, squeezing his arm before she stepped back. "All of you," she said, addressing the crowded space, "I know this is difficult. I know we are abandoning the only home we have had for seven years, and I know the path ahead is unclear. But while we are alive, there is hope. Each pod should set its coordinates to aim for the moon mined by the Pyrie. There are facilities there. We will do what we have to do to survive. And we will survive. Is that understood?"

There was a muted murmur of assent.

"All right," she said. "You have your orders. Pass them on to your assigned decks. Get to it."

Tom still lingered, even as the corridor emptied.

"Mr Paris?" Janeway enquired, one eyebrow raised. "I believe your pod is on this deck, is it not? Section C?"

"Yes, Captain, it is."

She nodded and offered a smile of encouragement. "Trust me, Tom. This is our best hope now."

After a moment, he smiled back, and then nodded. "Aye, Captain. See you moonside, then."

He turned and walked away. Janeway watched him go, praying to any deity that existed that he – that all of them – would make the journey safely. Then she turned toward the pod that would eventually house her and Tuvok, once they had completed a check of each deck. Their pod would be the last to leave, as was only proper.

Chakotay was still standing beside the hatch, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"The Pyrie aren't going to welcome you with open arms, Kathryn."

"We have no choice."

"They're all going to have to fight for their lives."

"They're already fighting for their lives. At least this way, they have a chance."

Chakotay shook his head. "Are you sure that leaving Voyager is the right course of action?"

She took a step closer to him, frowning. "Yes. And I can't believe that you don't agree. You're the third dissenter, Chakotay. Torres and Paris were doubtful, too. But I don't see what any of you imagine can be gained by remaining here. The ship is falling apart around us and if we don't leave soon, we'll all…"

He shocked her into silence by taking a swift step forward and raising his hands to cup her face, stroking his fingers over her cheekbones.

Janeway gripped his wrist with her one good hand. "Chakotay…"

"I'm being selfish, I know I am," he murmured. "But I can't see why you would want to survive this when you know what's on the other side. But I suppose I never was enough for you, was I?"

"Chakotay…"

"Just give me a minute," he whispered. "Just give me the minute you never let me have while I was alive. Can't you even do that?"

Guilt speared her heart and she froze, just for a second. In the pause he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. They were warm, as alive as his bare skin had been under her fingers, and when he slipped one arm around her waist to pull her against him, she went willingly. For a moment, everything faded away – the desperation, the guilt, the fear.

But it wasn't right. None of this was right…

When the burning smell reached her, she pushed him away and gasped for breath, her hand flat against his chest. Janeway looked around, expecting to see flames, but there were none.

"What now?" she asked. "What – what's burning?"

Chakotay tried to pull her back to him but she moved away. "There's nothing, Kathryn," he said. "It'll just be the escape pod mechanisms – the manual override must be burning dust."

She looked back at him. "How could you know that?"

He shrugged. "What else could it be?"

"I don't know. But why do I have the feeling that you could tell me if you wanted to?"

It was his turn to frown. "What do you mean?"

"Who are you? What are you?"

He took a step towards her, but she maintained the distance between them by taking one back. "Kathryn," he said, "You know who I am."

"No. Whatever you are, you are not Chakotay."

He paused, looking as if she'd slapped him full in the face. "How can you say that?" he asked, a hurt look in his eyes. "How can you still hold back, even after I've given my life for you? Even when I've told you everything we could finally have?"

She shook her head. "Chakotay would never put himself before the welfare of the crew. He'd never let his personal desires come first. And he'd certainly never ask me to do that. He never did, not once."

Chakotay curled one lip. "Death has a way of changing your way of thinking, Kathryn."

"I don't believe it. I don't believe you. Whatever you are, you've got him wrong. You've got us wrong. Whatever you've seen in my head – whatever it was that made you think he would kiss me in a situation like this – that has never been my Chakotay." The figure before her took a step closer. "Back off," she said. "Enough of this. I will make sure my crew are safely aboard these escape pods and then I will get into one myself and leave this ship and you - whatever you are – behind for good."

She'd expected the phantom – or whatever it was – to grow angry, then, but it didn't. Instead, Chakotay's face took on a look of such infinite sadness that her heart turned over. Janeway looked away, steeling herself, refusing to allow any niggle of doubt to enter her head.

Chakotay was dead. Whatever she'd been seeing for these past days, it wasn't him. It could never be him. He was lost to her for good. And now she had a crew to get to safety.

She got as far as the curve of the corridor. Then all hell broke loose.

[TBC]