The Murdered Sun - Christie Golden [75]
That left three: the one now racing for the Verunan system, the Victory, and the Destroyer. Chasing the first ship would cause a dangerous delay, but Janeway was not about to let the Verunans be obliterated. Her eyes hardened as she watched the ship veer away from Voyager's pursuit. A few more minutes, and it would be out of range.
In the background, she could hear Tom Paris through the comm link, instructing his little fleet to stick close and hang on.
If they got out of this, she'd give him a commendation--officially, for his heroic rescue and his level-headed command; unofficially, for opening his mind and affections to an alien race against whom he had been prejudiced.
If they got out of this.
"Lock phasers on the engines," she ordered.
"Phasers locked," replied Tuvok.
Her eyes narrowed. "Fire."
Red energy screamed across space. "Direct hit," reported Tuvok.
"Their shields are down by twenty-four percent."
"Repeat firing until we've damaged those engines," Janeway ordered grimly.
Tuvok obeyed. Twice more phasers landed squarely on target even though the Akerian vessel tried to evade them. The third time Janeway saw one of the four mammoth engines explode, then sputter dimly before its orange light died.
"Get all four of them." She felt vaguely like a bully, hitting a smaller child when he was down, but rejected that. It wasn't an accurate image. That "child" was bent on destroying an entire civilization, and knocking out the engines completely was the most efficient and most merciful means of rendering them unable to complete their mission of genocide.
At last the ship hung limply in space, its engines dark but other lights and its gravity wave generators still active and glowing.
Even as Janeway watched, the ship in a final act of defiance launched its six black chitinous pods. Janeway didn't even have to order Tuvok to fire on them. The phasers hit their target, and the potentially deadly pods exploded harmlessly, one by one, a good several hundred kilometers away.
"Reverse course. Let's get back to that concavity," she said.
Awaiting them, as she knew they would be, were the two remaining ships: the Destroyer and Commander Linneas's vessel, the Victory.
"Janeway to Engineering. Lieutenant Torres, how are those shields coming?"
"We're back up to ninety-six percent," replied Torres.
"Not good enough. We can't enter that concavity until we're back up to full strength. Let me know the instant we get there, understood?"
"Aye, Captain."
Janeway settled back in her chair. Her hands reached to grasp either arm in an unconscious bracing gesture.
"Mr. Kim, let's try again to hail Commander Linneas and the Destroyer." They were facing the two ships now. The Victory drifted to port, the Destroyer to starboard, as if trying to corner her between them. Oh, no, you don't, she thought darkly.
"No response," replied Kim a moment later.
Janeway sighed. She hadn't expected one, but she kept hoping.
"Chakotay, you know where we're vulnerable. Watch out for any pods or weapons fired in that direction."
"Aye, Captain," the commander replied.
As long as neither ship made a hostile move, she was reluctant to attack first. She waited, tense, as the Voyager steadily moved back toward Sun-Eater. The ships to their port and starboard continued to make no antagonistic moves. As before, they were almost behaving like escorts.
What are you up to, Linneas?
Harry Kim broke the silence. "I almost wish they'd attack," he said awkwardly. "At least do something."
"I'm right with you, Ensign," Janeway replied. "When you wear this uniform long enough, you get to be a pretty good judge of character.
Sometimes you even get a sixth sense about people.
And my sixth sense is telling me right now that Linneas has got a trick or two up his armored sleeve, and I'm willing to bet real money that we're not going