Ragnarok (22 page)

Kim and K’t’rien flashed into existence in a small auxiliary control room, one that K’t’rien had pointed out on the sensor scans of the P’nir cruiser.

The room was not empty, but the sensors had warned them of that; Kim arrived with his weapon ready in his hand and promptly stunned the two P’nir working there.

He knew now where to aim the phaser, and to have it set on maximum stun; the exoskeletons still meant that the effect wasn’t instantaneous, but the P’nir were too startled by the sudden appearance of their captain and a strange, ugly little alien to react properly—no alarms sounded, no warnings were given, and no weapons were drawn before the pair staggered, swayed, and went down.

“Now shut down the tractor beam,” Kim ordered, pointing the phaser at K’t’rien.

K’t’rien moved to the control panels, and Kim realized with some amusement at his own expense that even if the P’nir captain had cooperated fully and told them exactly how to shut down the tractor beam, Chakotay or the others would have had a hard time doing anything with the information—the controls were designed for P’nir, which meant, at least in this case, that they were on overhead panels at least three meters above the deck. Even Rollins, the tallest of the four, couldn’t have reached those without climbing up on something.

Kim told himself he should have thought of that; after all, he’d been the one who had roamed all those corridors where the inscriptions were all above his head.

Maybe if one person rode on another’s shoulders, they’d be able to reach… but it didn’t matter; K’t’rien was here, and she would do the job.

“See this, small creature,” K’t’rien said, as she reached up with one of her four claws. “This is a control link for the main power system of the Chugashk—this ship we ride upon is the Chugashk.”

Kim nodded. “Get on with it,” he said.

K’t’rien ignored the interruption.

“Know that the Chugashk was my mother’s before me,” the P’nir said.

“Know that it was built at the direction of my clan’s grandmother, that we might be proudly represented in the vanguard of the great campaign to exterminate the Hachai once and for all.”

“I’m sure you’re very proud of it,” Kim said, trying desperately to be polite despite the open boast of attempted genocide. This was not the time to make K’t’rien angry; guards might be along at any moment.

“Yes,” K’t’rien said, as she simultaneously manipulated three grab-handles with three of her claws—again, a feat that a single humanoid would have had great difficulty in performing. “My clan has always taken pride in the Chugashk, and in our part in the extermination campaign.” She swiveled the handles in an odd, intricate pattern.

Something about the way K’t’rien was acting made Kim uneasy.

“I’m sure you have,” he said again.

K’t’rien said, “The clan has never given up that which is ours, little alien. We are a proud clan. We would prefer death to disgrace.”

“I can understand that,” Kim said, his discomfort growing.

K’t’rien yanked at one handle, and a little panel sprang open.

The P’nir reached inside for another of the odd little grab-handles.

“You see, alien,” the P’nir said, “the Chugashk has secrets that are known only to my clan, and to my line within the clan—secrets that were built into it in case we might ever need to assert our primacy here. My clan, my line does not give up that which should be ours.”

That made Kim even more uncomfortable. “The new captain, Tsh’pak,” he asked, “is she in your line?”

He realized, after he had spoken, that he had not used the imperative, but apparently it didn’t matter this time—either K’t’rien was making allowances for Kim’s alien speech, or she just wanted to talk.

“The line ends with me,” K’t’rien said. “I slew my sisters fairly, so that I was alone in the line, and ever since I have devoted myself to the war, to using the Chugashk well. I had never yet taken the time to choose an acceptable male and deposit my eggs.” She made an odd noise, one that Kim thought might have been either regret or disgust; he wondered what would make a male “acceptable.” Males didn’t seem to play a very large role in P’nir society. Did K’t’rien know that three of her captors were male?

“Tsh’pak is senior in the line of Ch’tikh, not in my line,” K’t’rien continued. “She is not even truly a part of my clan, but a part of a mere affiliate line, given honor aboard the Chugashk in recognition of the metallurgical skills of her grandmother.”

That made Kim even more nervous. This all sounded ominous, as if K’t’rien was explaining why she was about to do something drastic. She was still working at those complicated controls—why should it take so long to just turn off the tractors and open the hangar?

And why should she need to use that secret control, known only to her clan?

“Tell me what you’re doing up there,” Kim ordered.

The P’nir gave a handle one final twist, then looked down at the human.

“I have entered my personal code,” K’t’rien replied. “And using the secrets taught me by my mother and grandmother, I have commanded the Chugashk to destroy itself.”

“You what?” Kim shouted. His fingers tightened on the phaser, but he didn’t fire; if he fired, K’t’rien would be unable to explain what she had done, and would be unable to undo it.

“If I am now unworthy to command the Chugashk in battle, then Tsh’pak is no worthier,” K’t’rien told him. “Better that the pride of my clan should be destroyed, taking you and your interfering companions with it, than that I should live on in disgrace, my authority never again certain.”

“But… but you can be restored, I thought…” Kim stammered.

“Not while my captors live and go free,” K’t’rien said. “Either you four beings must surrender yourselves to me and go willingly to imprisonment, or we shall all die, and the Chugashk with us.”

Kim tapped his combadge.

“How long do we have?” he demanded.

K’t’rien simply stared down at him.

“Tell me how long we have!” Kim shouted.

“You must surrender within eighty-six seconds, or it will be too late,” the P’nir replied calmly.

Just then Kim heard the rattling footsteps of more P’nir approaching—and approaching fast. Someone had apparently figured out that something was wrong here.

“Commander,” he said, “K’t’rien’s set a self-destruct sequence here—she says she’ll blow us all up if we don’t surrender! She wants us as prisoners, and says that she can’t be restored to the captaincy while… damn!” This last was as a pair of P’nir security guards burst into the room, weapons leveled.

They were aiming at P’nir height, however, so Kim was able to duck under the first shot and take one P’nir down with his phaser.

Aboard the shuttle, Chakotay and the others heard Kim demand to know how long they had; they heard K’t’rien’s reply, and then Kim’s interrupted explanation.

“Can we get them both back aboard the shuttle within that eighty-six seconds?” Chakotay demanded.

“Not and get the shields back up,” Bereyt replied. “Sixty-two seconds now.”

“Get Kim back here, then,” Chakotay said. “Leave the captain where she is. She’ll probably reverse the self-destruct if we do that—she’ll be free again, and able to try to capture us. She won’t blow herself up while she’s still got a chance at redemption.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chakotay signaled Rollins, and the shields dropped; Bereyt began focusing in the transporter.

Then hesitated.

“Sir,” she said.

In the auxiliary control room, when the first security guard went down, the second guard began spraying fire wildly. P’nir weapons were not true phasers; the handheld armament carried by P’nir security was little more than simple energy projectors, designed to blast whatever it was pointed at. There was no stun setting.

The guard’s first wild shot took off her former captain’s head; K’t’rien’s four arms flailed madly, and greenish-yellow ichor splashed in all directions.

The guard’s second shot hit K’t’rien in the thorax, and Kim heard the sharp crack as the former captain’s exoskeleton broke open.

The head shot, Kim realized as he brought his own weapon to bear, might not even be fatal, since the P’nir’s brains weren’t in their heads, but it was surely crippling—K’t’rien would have been blinded, at the very least. The second shot had probably killed her, though.

And then with her third shot the guard had finally adjusted for Kim’s height and crouched position and had swung her weapon down far enough; the beam flashed just as Kim fired again.

The phaser caught the guard in exactly the right spot, dropping her against the far wall, but it was too late—the P’nir beam cut deeply into Kim’s side, and red blood sprayed across the captain’s ichor.

Aboard the shuttle Chakotay looked at Kim’s transporter fix and immediately saw what had happened, why Bereyt hadn’t energized—the readings made it clear that K’t’rien was already dead, and Kim might be dying.

And with them dead, could anyone stop the self-destruct sequence?

“Energize!” Chakotay barked. Then he turned and ordered Rollins, “The instant she’s got him, get our shields up—maximum power!

Throw everything we’ve got into them, and brace yourselves!” As the transporter hummed and Ensign Kim flashed into existence, Chakotay dove for the controls himself, hoping to warn the P’nir…

There wasn’t time.

The shock wave of the cruiser’s fiery self-destruction smashed against the shuttle and flung the four of them about like rag dolls. The energy flare overloaded the shields, and the feedback overloaded every system on board; the controls went dead, the lights flashed once and went dark. The hull rang like a gigantic gong, and everything inside shook. The rumble and roar deafened Chakotay and Kim and Rollins and Bereyt; for a long, long moment they existed in a dark emptiness flooded with sound, pressure, and vibration.

And then the sound faded, the pressure stopped, the vibrations died away. The silence was absolute; even the faint hiss of the shuttle’s air system was gone.

Chakotay wondered for a moment, there in the dark, whether perhaps he had died and gone to join his ancestors in the spirit realm; then he wondered whether he was about to die, but not quite there yet, which would have been far worse.

And then the emergency lighting came on, and the backup power systems, and Chakotay knew he was still alive, and that he might yet manage to stay that way. He didn’t feel anything broken anywhere, though he was sure he had collected a fine assortment of aches, bumps, and bruises during the initial impact.

“Hull integrity damaged,” Rollins said, as the first automatic status readouts appeared on the one display screen that was operating. “We’re losing air—several slow leaks, the systems are too damaged to pinpoint them, let alone patch them. Shields at three percent.”

It occurred to Chakotay that yes, they were alive, but they might not be much longer. A slow death by asphyxiation would not be pleasant.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Open space,” Rollins replied. “Navigation is down, I can’t get a fix on our location, and main sensors are down, but we’re not under fire.”

“What about the P’nir ship?”

“Gone, sir,” Rollins said. “Totally destroyed. We’re part of the debris cloud.”

That might explain why no one was shooting at them, Chakotay thought; it might be that no one out there had yet noticed that the shuttlecraft wasn’t just another chunk of wreckage.

That could wait for a moment. He turned to Bereyt. “How’s Kim?” he asked.

The Bajoran knelt over Kim’s battered, unconscious body, the shuttle’s emergency medkit open at her side. “Bad,” Bereyt said.

“I’ve stopped the bleeding, but there’s internal damage—he got thrown around when the explosion hit.” She turned to Chakotay, a stricken look on her face. “I think he’s dying.”

“Is there any chance?” Chakotay asked.

“Maybe, if we could get him to some proper help,” Bereyt said, “but I can’t save him, not with just the medkit.”

“Do what you can,” Chakotay said, turning back to Rollins. “Do we have any propulsion?”

Rollins shook his head. “Not much,” he said. “I wouldn’t trust the warp core until it’s been completely overhauled, after that impact.

We’ve got partial impulse, but I’m not sure just how much, or how long it’ll last.”

“Commander, I don’t think we want to move, anyway,” Bereyt said, as she searched through the medkit for something else that might help. “It’s a safe bet either the P’nir or the Hachai will shoot at us if we do.”

Chakotay nodded. “Mr. Rollins,” he said, “can you spot the Voyager?”

“No, sir,” Rollins replied. “Not with the sensors in this condition.”

Bereyt looked at Chakotay.

“What do we do, sir?”

Chakotay weighed the factors carefully. They were virtually defenseless, adrift in space a few kilometers away from the largest, fiercest battle ever recorded, a battle where neither side was friendly. One of them was mortally wounded.

Somewhere out there, though, was the Voyager. That was their only hope.

“We wait,” Chakotay replied.

Captain, the P’nir ships are closing again,” Paris reported.

“Then take us out, Mr. Paris,” Janeway replied. “Outrun them, then bring us back in.”

“Aye-aye,” Paris responded. “Heading one-zero-nine mark two-two, warp three.” They had discovered, in two previous exploratory passes, that even the P’nir’s fastest ships could not hope to pursue them at anything over warp two.

“Mr. Evans,” Janeway called, “is there any sign of the shuttlecraft?”

“Not that I can see, Captain,” Evans replied.

Janeway frowned.

“Captain,” Tuvok said, “I have just observed a curious phenomenon. A P’nir cruiser at the far end of the combat zone has just exploded—and has done so quite spectacularly, I might add.”

Paris glanced up long enough to retort, “There’s a battle going on out there, Tuvok—an exploding ship is hardly a big surprise.”

Utterly unruffled, Tuvok replied, “I am aware of that, Mr. Paris.

However, the circumstances of this particular detonation are rather peculiar. No Hachai vessels had fired upon it for several minutes.”