Ragnarok by Nathan Archer Page A

listening, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain, they’re refusing contact.”
    “Try a Hachai ship, then” Janeway ordered.
    “Aye-aye,” Kim said, tapping his controls. “Hailing.”
    Before Janeway could say anything more, the viewscreen lit up with the image of the Hachai bridge.
    The design was unfamiliar, but intelligible; one Hachai, presumably the ship’s commander, sat in a transparent globe at the center of an open space, surrounded by other Hachai perched at individual stations on at least three different levels—there might well have been additional areas not shown in the transmission.
    The Hachai were fat bluish-gray creatures with stalked eyes and four multijointed arms apiece, just like the doll—or like the mummies.
    Janeway remembered that the mummies’ legs had been hidden by rubble, and the doll’s legs had been stubby little things that were pushed up into the toy’s rounded bottom; she realized that she couldn’t see any legs here, either. The Hachai presumably had legs, since the doll had had them, but Janeway couldn’t see any. Perhaps they were retractable.
    It was oddly pleasant, and oddly surprising, to see these living, breathing Hachai. It helped to lighten the memory of those sad little mummies.
    “Your transmissions are not wanted,” the Hachai commander said brusquely. “We will not listen to any of your P’nir trickery.”
    “There’s no trickery,” Janeway replied quickly. “We are merely a neutral party who does not wish to see anyone die unnecessarily….”
    The Hachai commander interrupted her.
    “We must assume your presence is a P’nir trick of some sort,” the Hachai said. “Perhaps it is intended to lure us into some folly, or merely to distract us. If you are not a P’nir deception, if you are truly a neutral party, then leave this area immediately—you are not welcome here.”
    “We are not…” Janeway began.
    “If you do not leave,” the Hachai captain said, cutting her off again, “we must assume that you are hostile, and we will respond accordingly.
    This is your final warning.”
    The screen went dark.
    Janeway frowned. “Hail them again,” she said.
    “Hailing,” Kim said. He shook his head.
    “They’re refusing our hail.”
    Janeway considered their position. What else, she wondered, could they try?
    Her thoughts were interrupted by a shout. “Captain!” Paris called.
    “The Hachai are breaking out of formation and coming toward us!”
    “Onscreen!” Janeway said, leaning forward in her chair.
    Sure enough, a single Hachai dreadnought had pulled free of the battle and was charging toward the Voyager. The bloated gray shape was expanding rapidly on the viewer.
    “It’s big,” Chakotay said, unnecessarily; the Hachai ship that was bearing down on them was utterly gigantic, dwarfing the Voyager.
    “Red alert,” Janeway snapped. “Maximum shields. Hail them; ask what we can…”
    “The Hachai ship is opening fire, Captain,” Tuvok reported calmly. “It appears to be a multi-frequency phased energy beam….”
    The “phased energy beam” lit the viewer a vivid red for an instant; the screen flickered, and the bridge lights, already dimmed for the alert, dimmed even further briefly as the ship’s power was diverted to the forward shields. The red light turned the gray carpet almost black, and the soft, colorful glow of the instrument panels stood out in sharp contrast.
    Janeway watched as Voyager’s shields easily absorbed the Hachai’s attack without transferring any of the destructive energy to the ship itself.
    “She’s veering away,” Paris said. “Breaking off the attack.”
    “It was just a warning shot, then,” Chakotay said.
    “I would tend to agree with Commander Chakotay, Captain,” Tuvok said.
    “The Hachai vessel fired at extreme range, then immediately turned aside.”
    “That weapon, Tuvok,” Janeway asked, turning to her right, “what was it? What did you call it?”
    “A phased energy