My favorite Star Trek : Voyager character is Tom Paris; I don't know why, but I frankly don't care.
So, one day I asked myself a question : would Mr. Paris make a good captain? I decided to get an answer, and is the story you're (hopefully) going to read.
I don't own any Star Trek characters.
WARNING : I decided to place my story in the 'Shatnerverse', so Captain Kirk is alive and well.
Chapter 1 : Near encounters
"Welcome, Commander Paris, on board of the Berlin!"
The voice of Captain Jerram was as warm as his large smile without some teeth, and as hot as his large, sweaty hand. "Thank you, Captain. I apologize for the trouble I'm giving to you!" answered Lieutenant Commander Thomas Eugene Paris, ten years ago one of the most renowned Starfleet Admiral's shame, and now a legendary Starfleet Officer, being one of the crew of the USS Voyager when it was stranded in the Delta Quadrant. Now he was a praised officer with a happy family and a remarkable career.
The smile on Jerram's face widened. "No trouble at all, Commander! It's a honour for the Old Lady to give a passage to a legend like you!" Tom laughed a little. "Legend? That's too much, Captain, And if I am, then I'm still a smaller legend than you!" The Bridge Crew snickered : that was no lie. Everyone in the Fleet knew Harry "Crazy Horse" Jerram, but not for glorious battles or impressive diplomacy. It was just because one day, having been promoted to Captain just five days before, in a training fleet manuevre he accidentally rammed with his ship the Flagship of Admiral Leighton.
Jerram made a hurt face. "Ouch! That hurt me badly!" The trembling of his lips denounced his amusement, so he didn't keep it for long. "Well, I'd love to keep this conversation going, but we've got to depart. I'll see you later, Commander!" "I'm looking forward for that, Captain!" Paris answered hironically, sending the officers in another fit of laughter.
"So, you're telling me that you got to Warp 10, but that made you evolve at an incredible rate?" "Yes, Captain, that's exactly what I'm telling you!" The Bridge was loud with this sceptycal questions, and the calm but bemused answers. The Bridge Crew was relaxing and not losing even a bit of the fun.
But just then, the SCI console beeped urgently. The officer touched the controls, and her expression changed quickly. "Captain, sir... I think we detected a clear sign of a Transwarp conduct!" The fun ceased at once. Transwarp technology meant just one thing : Borg.
Captain Jerram could have been a man with a broken career and no prospectives, but he always knew the right thing to do, for the safety of his crew. "Red Alert! Shields up, get the weapons online!" he shouted. Paris looked with a mixture of apprehension and approval while the Bridge darkened when the red lights started flashing. The Tactical officer said hurriedly : "I detect a Borg vessel. They're preparing to fire, and..." The phrase was cut short by a huge explosion that sent Tom flying and hitting the bulkhead with great pain. He stood on the ground, dazed, for a moment, then he got up, ignoring the aching pain on his left shoulder. The Main Bridge was in ruins. The lifeless body of the Vulcan Commander that served as First Officer furthermore added at the tragedy that was happening before his eyes. Captain Jerram was still on his command chair, his eyes opened , looking at the broken ceiling but not seeing it anymore. Tom instantly went for his carotid, but felt no pulse. He was gone.
Tom felt desperate, but he couldn't give up. The image of B'Elanna and Miral, his wife and daughter, waiting for him at Starbase 7, gave him the decision he needed in that critical moment. He stood in all his stature and, without even realizing it properly, silently assumed command of the ship. "Damage report!" he shouted. The surviving officers, that is the Tactical Officer, the Scientific Officer and the OPS Officer, didn't even object. Anyway, he was the highest-ranking officer on the ship, and thus, Acting Captain. "They hit us before our shields were raised. Decks from 11 to 18 damaged, we have twenty-three deads and many other wounded!" "Get the Borg ship on screen!" Tom shouted above all the confusion. On screen appeared the shape of a Borg probe vessel, identical to that the Voyager met in their five year. Paris clenched his teeth : the Voyager could easily match that ship, but the Berlin was just an old Excelsior-class cruiser, not to scrap at once, but surely unable to dispatch the Borg as easily as he had wanted.
"Weapon status?" he asked. The tactical officer answered : "Phasers charged and ready, photon torpedoes on stand-by, sir." "Aim for the shields emitters. And prepare an armed cloclwork photon to be beamed aboard that ship. Let's see if it works again. Fire!" The starship at last fired back at the Borg probe. Tom looked very pleased when the phasers punded hard the enemy shields. "Very well. Keep firing with everything we've got!" The Borg fired again; a cascade of energy surged from under the CONN console, sending the unfortunate screaming officer backwards. Paris didn't even take the time to feel his fear and went to the empty console, touching the navigation controls like a virtuoso his piano. The Berlin narrowly dodged other strafing from the Bord ship and fired with all the forward phasers and torpedo launchers, hitting the Borg ship right at the point. "Multiple direct hits, sir. Their shield are faltering... faltering... they're gone, sir!" Tom didn't lost a second. He yelled : "Beam the torpedo, now!!" The transporter officer beamed the lethal weapon at the co-ordinates Paris had sent before. After a few seconds, multiple explosions ravaged the enemy vessel. Another seconds, and a soundless explosion rocked the Federation ship. The Borg were gone for good.
Tom sighed, and felt stronger than ever the pain in his shoulder. He gazed at the officers around him, and was slightly puzzled when everyone stared at him, waiting for orders. Suddenly feeling embarassed, he ordered : "Cease Red Alert. Give me a final damage report, and start repairs at once!"
"Stardate 57202 point 00. This is Lieutenant Commander Thomas Eugene Paris, Acting Captain of the Berlin speaking. We have encountered, on the route for Starbase 7, a Borg probe vessel. We managed to destroy the enemy ship, but we suffered considerable damage, and painful losses. Final loss report is thirty-five deads, including Captain Harry Jerram, and sixty-one wounded, including several Staff Officers. As the senior Starfleet Officer on board, I took command of the ship during the battle, but now I am looking forward for arriving at the Starbase to be relieved of command. I could be able to command the ship in emergency circumstances, but I could never be a good commanding officer."
"ETA for Starbase 7 nine minutes, sir!" said the nervous ensign at the CONN console. Tom managed to hid his snickering; the green officer looked like he could barely touch the controls, judging from his nervousness. "Thank you, Ensign. Lieutenant, please call the Starbase, I'd wish to talk with the senior officer there." "Yes, sir! On screen!" On the screen, the running stars were replaced by the bearded face of Vice-Admiral Frank R. Charleton, Commander of the Seventh Fleet and one of the best Starfleet Admirals. A cunning and imaginative leader in battle, yet his diplomathic skills were as effective as the weapons of his ships. He was a friend of Admiral Paris, Tom's father, and was an old acquaintance of Tom. He grinned and said nonchalantly : "Berlin, this is Admiral Charleton speaking. Could you please tell me whos' the one in command? He looks like Tom Paris, but one like him could never command a ship!" Tom rolled his eyes. "I'd chosen not to command this ship, Admiral. But the death of Captain Jerram by the Borg left me with no choice." The smile on the Admiral's face vanished. "Jerram's dead? Damn it. Dock at once, Commander, and come in my office to report. I'll send reparation teams to help the crew. Charleton, out!"