All he could see was his father's harsh face, frowning at him in disappointment.
Feeling deck after deck fly through the floor of the turbolift, Lieutenant j.g. Tom Paris stood in silent dread. Newly promoted to the beta-shift aboard the Exeter, the young man could only hope that the turbolift car shot past Deck 1 and ejected into space, where his father - and his guilt - couldn't reach him.
He thought back to the events of only a month ago, and wondered how things could have fallen off the rails so quickly.
-
"This is so stupid," complained Tom over the comm. "If Captain Sesballa hadn't been so curious about a stupid gaseous anomaly…" "You're a Starfleet officer," joked Volanis, his antennae bobbing in mirth. "Surely you understand the importance of "A scientific discovery that put the Caldik Station at risk. We were supposed to be protecting the colony from the meteor shower, not probing some cosmic fart." Tom's grousing was interrupted by a sigh from the other crewmen he had onboard the "Coming up on the meteoroid, Paris. Thirty-four seconds to intercept. Plan?" "I'm thinking if we fly in tandem, we can use the tractor beams to drag the rock out of the way before it pulverizes the colony." Straight, to the point, minimal risk. The plan was concise and clear. And a bit too boring.
"That would take longer than necessary, Paris. Surely there must be a faster way." Sighing, the Andorian continued. "Sensors indicate it would be faster if it's towed by one ship, and pushed by another, meaning we can get back to the dreary patrol duty we're supposed to be engaged in, and I can go back to thinking about pink-skinned females." Paris' eye-roll was followed by a very close maneuver by the Dalton, barely missing scratching the port bow's hull plating. "Voaly…" Paris said warningly. "I'm still in command of the mission." A derisive laugh sounded over the comm. "Fine then, Paris… your orders?" Grinning, Paris gave his consent. "Pink-skinned women.
The turbolifts onboard the Ambassador-class starships weren't usually this rough, but after more than twenty-five years of fleet service, countless refits and systems upgrades, the U.S.S. Exeter could afford its share of quirks. The doors hissed as the turbolift doors opened onto the bridge.
Oriented 90 degrees from the turbolift, Tom spied the first officer's ears before the man turned, showing the cautious expression on his face.
Bill Daffen was a quiet man, and at the ripe old age of 102, it was clear that he didn't have much to say anymore. Tom didn't really have anything against the man, he was just a reminder of the Admiral. Cold, watchful, and nary a kind word to be said. He walked behind the man, feeling the stares of his crewmates on him. He drew whatever comfort he could in the knowledge that finally, he was doing the right thing.
Albeit a bit too late for anyone involved… himself included.
"Drummed out of Starfleet so soon, Tom? I guess I'll only have one child to speak of." The sinister voice of the Admiral echoed in his head.
-
"Dalton to Lavoisier… Paris, my tractor emitter is overloading. I could use a little help sometime today." Paris sighed in resignation. The meteor's flight path was almost clear of the planet, but Volanis' shuttle had tried to get things done a little too fast. Hopefully, he could get everything under control in time to avoid facing any consequences. He sent a burst transmission in the general direction of the Exeter, before formulating a plan. "Okay, Voaly, here's what I want you to do: keep towing that rock until it's going to fly past Caldik and hit some comet somewhere, and then cut your engines. We'll slingshot around the meteoroid, beam you and Nichol out of there and then you can admire all the women you want." Stan Nichol was a young ensign, fresh out of the Academy on his first shipboard assignment. Three weeks after his assignment started and they'd departed Starbase 185, the junior engineer was already in a small amount of peril. Tom wasn't a big fan of junior ensigns… the naiveté was worn on their sleeve. You had to start somewhere, sure, but… his musings were interrupted by the Andorian's transmission.
"That's not going to leave you a lot of time to affect a rescue, Paris. Don't forget, the rock's filled with bakillite... that stuff play with sensors and transporters." Volanis' tone was a tiny bit tighter. "I'll make it," said Paris confidently. ' " "Meteor course clear... hold on." Tom's fingers danced over the panel, tapping controls and the Class 2 shuttle jerked out of geostationary of the meteroid, swooping closely underneath in the direction of her sister craft. In the viewport, Tom could see an explosion bloom from the shuttle's aft section, just as the other ship came into view at the horizon. "Emergency transport!" he barked, as they reached transporter range. Ensign Harper, or Hopper or whatever tried to activate the shuttle's transporter, but their inexperience was evident as they fumbled with the controls, precious seconds slipping away and... "
-
As the turbolift dropped away from the bridge, the revised report sitting on his displeased captain's desk, the Admiral spoke to Tom one last time.
"So, which one of you kids do I resent more?" his image asked Tom, a dark smile playing on his lips. "Moira, the dauther that never tried, or Tom... the son that lied. Just to be safe, you should probably assume it's you." Then the turbolift stopped, and the two security officers standing silently behind him grabbed his arms, and carried him to the brig.
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I don't know if this is going anywhere, I don't know if this is any good. I just wanted to write something, and this is the nonsense that came out onto the screen. I always liked Tom as a character, but he was never used in any real way. He's had command of the bridge in the very first episode, fighting the Kazon in defense of the Caretaker's array... and from then it almost went straight downhill to Threshold lizardman.
I like Alpha Flyer's Voyager relaunch. I was never big on the Torres character, but Tom has the potential for more than just 'jack of all trades, master of none' that the producers foisted upon him. I guess I could get a Robert Beltran quote for here, but instead I'm going to stop typing. Hurry up and update, Alpha Flyer... otherwise I'm going to have to write more of this crap.