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By Root 601 0

with dark matter particles. Do you remember the centurions and their scoutship? It has taken longer because there are more people and more systems to infect, but that is surely what is occurring on all thirteen of those vessels." He corrected himself. "Eleven vessels, now."

He looked heartsick. "Every time they activate their cloak, every moment that they have it operating, they are increasing their dosage of dark matter exponentially. And that is what we are being bombarded with."

Janeway nodded her comprehension and relayed the new information to B'Elanna. "Every time we're fired upon, they hit us not only with their weapons, but with a dose of mutated dark matter that's appar-

ently only gotten more dangerous with time. Do what you can, Torres. Janeway out."

She sank back in her chair. Again a Romulan fired, and this time the ship rocked violently. "Shields down thirty-one percent," said Kim. "Casualties reported on decks thirteen, twelve, and eight."

Janeway made a decision. She ached with the choice, but sometimes being a captain of a Starship meant that you had to make the tough decisions. She could not put her crew at risk any longer. The Romulans had had their chances-plenty of them. She sensed rather than saw Telek R'Mor straighten behind her, as if he could read her mind and knew what she had decided.

'Target another vessel. Aim for their weapons or propulsion." Not that it would make any difference, but it might help her sleep better.

She swallowed, knowing what would happen, then gave the order. "Fire."

Red phaser energy screamed across space. The Romulan ship exploded on impact, pieces of invisible metal hurtling outward. The fire was visible, however, a rolling orange, red, and white ball of destruction before space inevitably consumed it.

"No life-signs, Captain," said Kim quietly.

"Open a channel, Mr. Kim. Hell, open them all. Broadcast on every frequency the following message from now until... until this is over, one way or another."

"Go ahead," said Kim.

"Captain Janeway to Romulan vessels: We have no

wish to destroy your ships or injure your crew, but we will defend ourselves as long as we are attacked. Your ships are vulnerable because of their dark-matter cloaks. Please, I beg you, call off this attack and let us give you the information to save yourselves!"

"Message being broadcast, Captain." Kim hesitated, then, "No response or acknowledgment."

Telek R'Mor had been right. They would conquer, or they would die.

"The ships are too fragile," said the Romulan scientist softly. "Their own shields have done this to them. One volley and they are done for. Our magnificent warbirds..." His voice trailed off.

Janeway glanced down at her viewscreen. There were ten of the ships now. Even as she counted, two torpedoes, fired in rapid succession, rocked the ship violently. She heard the sizzle that marked fire on the bridge and a muffled cry from young Garan, who was manning the science station. An acrid stench stung her nose, and almost immediately she felt pain in her leg. She'd strained a tendon trying to keep her seat Her injured wrists ached in harmonious sympathy but, deliberately, Janeway forced the cry of her wounded body out of her mind.

"Fire at will, Tuvok. Kim, keep broadcasting that message. I want to know the minute someone tries to respond. Is that understood?"

"Aye, Captain," Kim replied, but he didn't look hopeful. There was a nasty cut on his forehead and he wiped absently at the trickle of red before it got into his eye.

The next few minutes passed like a hallucination for Voyager's captain. The ship swung about, locating Romulan vessels despite the cloaks that would be their deaths, locking on, firing. Shot after shot, blast after blast, in a peculiarly dreamy dance of destruction. It didn't seem so bad when you couldn't see the ships blowing up in front of your eyes, when you could only see the fireballs. And yet, people were dying.

Harry Kim said nothing.

Down to seven warbirds, now.