Title: A River Flows

Author: Helmboy/Arctapus (this story is from 1998)

Codes: STVOY, C/P, AU, Drama, Violence, Mature content, M/M, part 2 of Canaan Land Arc. This was written during my gritty phase. Be aware that it is. :D The rest of the series is going to be at a T rating. This is the only part of the story that stands out as gritty.

Summary: This tells the back story to Canaan Land, how Tom and Chakotay met, the Academy and sets up the story for the next fifteen or sixteen long forms. I have edited this to fit an M rating and to suit me now. I was much racier in my youth apparently. :D :D :D This is for a reader request. Thank you for the memories, reader darling. I am putting this together since the segments in those days were so short. It will be compiled into five parts per posting. I am still editing this into a readable format so it may take few days but this series will be posted here in total eventually. :D

Funny how a story will make you wonder. This is classic beat me up Tom and I will save you Chakotay that came out on the big listservs back in the day. I find this part of the story hard to write so I made it epic. No other story has the tone and content that this one has in the arc. Thanks for listening. :D

A RIVER FLOWS, Part One (1998)

-0-Summary: Tom arrives in Auckland.

NOTES: The character, Rell, is my own creation but his species, the Zibalians can be found in the Star Trek Encyclopedia. They are tattooed around their temporal areas and some are traders. One is noted as notorious, Kivas Fajo. Since information was so sparse on these aliens, I have made a lot of decisions regarding their personal characteristics. What little is known of Ibudan is embellished with my own considerations for the character as well.

Star Fleet Penal Colony, Auckland, New Zealand...

Nestled in the beautiful countryside a few miles beyond the ancient city of Auckland was a maximum security prison. It was a juxtaposition of immense irony that a place of containment should be situated in the heart of paradise. For one hundred and fifty years, Star Fleet housed its more dangerous hard core individuals at the facility. It was the end of the line for the worst of the worst. Once you went through the gates you never came out unless they let you. In its entire history there

had never been a break out. The seven hundred prisoners incarcerated there ranging from political prisoners such as Maquis, to murderers, thieves and

deserters were expected to work, repair their flawed social outlook and serve their time. No one was cut any slack.

It was supposed to be a model rehabilitation facility, the product of an enlightened society, calling itself a colony not a prison and its inmates 'rehabilitation candidates' rather than prisoners. In an enlightened society no one was hopeless and the barbaric measures of past generations had no place here. However, the gap between ideals and practice was a wide one and the measures taken to bridge that gap were unorthodox. Within the compressed society of the prison there grew a framework, a hierarchy that mirrored the prison's own official command structure. A prisoner organization led by a single man ran the prison from the inside. It enforced discipline and made sure that trouble didn't happen.

In return the warden and guards would turn a blind eye on a number of activities, the trade off for institutional calm and efficiency. Simple things, some illicit substances, a black market, these things were tolerated within limits. They had to run a facility with seven hundred men of all species. This made it possible.

At the top of the pile ruling the prison inmate population with an iron fist was an alien by the name of Rell.

Shuttle ride to Auckland, New Zealand...

Tom Paris sat quietly, a facade of unconcern on his face. Inside he was terrified. He was going to the worst possible place. He would be alone among people who carried a grudge against Star Fleet. He was an Admiral's son and there would be few people who would be happy to see him there.

He had been tortured by the entire process of the capture and trial. It had been nearly worse than anything he had endured. Even Louis hadn't been this bad.

His mother had been there, coming from a dig far away and they had only had a moment. She clung to him weeping with grief and he held her as tightly as he could. It had been horrible seeing her breakdown like that and it was one more arrow in his heart. When he had to go guards had to pry them apart. He heard her screams as the door slid shut.

Exercise yard, weight room...

Rell lifted weights, his break time longer than most. He was given greater latitude than most prisoners. He was the king rat, the boss of the facility from the prisoner side and his word was law. He had an organization, lieutenants that carried out his orders and it was highly efficient and profitable. Rell was a Zibalian, a mostly humanoid species that was little known beyond their distinctive tattooing. They were a non-Federation species, secretive and possessing of warp technology for many generations.

Rell was a crewman on a ship taking a contraband cargo to the frontier stopping over at a small space station on the way. He had spotted someone in the bar that struck his fancy activating his peculiar physiology and had been hauled off in irons after demolishing everything breakable in the room. A routine check of the ship revealed the cargo and all of the ship's crew was arrested. Due to Rell's peculiar physiology, little understood by the Federation who now had to care for him for fifteen years, he was sent to Auckland. It would take him less than two months to replace the old regime with one of his own.

Star Fleet Penal Colony, Auckland, New Zealand, July 8th, midday...

The shuttle ride was swift and they landed at the Intake gate. One by one the prisoners stepped off the ship, Tom last of all. The humidity was the first impression he had, the hot smothering heat instantly raising a sweat on his body as he walked along the fence. He did not notice someone standing nearby watching all the men as they walked to the guard standing by the door, directing them inside. The man, tall, well built and Bajoran in appearance smiled slightly as he turned and walked back to the Administrative Building where he worked.

Holding Cell, Auckland Penal Colony, July 8th, mid afternoon...

Tom paced the small space, too keyed up from the humiliating process of intake to sit. He had been stripped and searched, scanned and made to shower, receiving his first pair of prison fatigues and his ankle bracelet. They had him scheduled to talk to a prison psychiatrist, essentially to determine his mental stability for inclusion into the general population, and he would spend the night in this cell in seclusion. He would be alone for the last time tonight, alone in the silence of the special cell. Tomorrow, after a brief conversation with a prison psychiatrist, he would be sent out into the prison population to survive without friends or support. He would be on his own.

Administrative Building, July 8th, early evening...

The Bajoran sat at a computer terminal inputting the prison's requisition orders all the while watching the guard surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. In ten minutes they would change shift and Steve Landess would come on duty. Landess was a bitter man and he carried a grudge against Rell and the Warden that would not be denied. Last year there had been a problem, a berserker Klingon prisoner and he had been stabbed. In Landess' mind the prison and the prisoner bosses had not done enough to ensure his rescue. As it turned out, Landess had made an error and after an internal investigation had been demoted with a demerit registered on his record. It had embittered him and made him vulnerable to the Bajoran's influence.

Every evening they would sit in the office, the last two people there and bitch. Everyday Steve Landess would fall farther and farther into the Bajoran's grasp and in the end the Bajoran would own his soul. That was good, he thought. He, Ibudan had plans. They would require the cooperation of the guards and the more he could win to his cause, the weaker Rell would become. So one by one, Ibudan began to learn their weaknesses. One by one he cataloged them against the future.

Steve Landess liked the idea of having sex with Trills. He liked their spots and their beauty. He talked about how much he would like to sleep with a Trill. He wanted to see just where on their women the spots went.

Ibudan playing a hunch surveyed the Trills in custody and settled on a young one who was the lover of a Bajoran prisoner. Waiting for him in his cell one night, Ibudan attacked the Bajoran stabbing him repeatedly with an ice pick. As the Bajoran lay choking on his own blood, Ibudan quietly informed him that his Trill was now forfeit and if he had any objections then he, Ibudan would be glad to hear them. Since none were forthcoming he went to the Trill's cell and took what was his, informing him afterward that he was now the property of Ibudan.

Two nights later in the Administration Office, Guard Steve Landess got half of his deepest wish given to him. He got a blow job by a Trill. Ibudan sat watching the door, a smile on his face. He now owned Landess lock, stock and barrel. To keep him happy he would have the Trill come to the office periodically and let Landess play with him to his heart's content. The goal was domination of the prison and he would need help to do that. This was the first step. He, Ibudan was not prepared to spend the next twenty years sitting on his ass while someone else ruled the facility. It wouldn't happen.

He had murdered a Cardassian on Deep Space Nine and was a ward of the Federation. So be it. He may have to give up his time to them but he didn't have to take it lying down. He would beat the system. He would own it and then he could do what he wanted. The Trill was just the first. If he had to sleep here he would not be sleeping alone. Only the best would do and he had what it took to get it.

In the Staff Psychiatrist's Office, that same moment...

Dr. Martin Garrity looked at the roster of new prisoners and noted Tom Paris. Here was an interesting character, someone worth study. This youngster had the world handed to him on a platter and here he was. Garrity wondered what kind of forces were at work on him that this would happen. He looked forward to his chat tomorrow and penciled him in for future visits. Here was a case study worth pursuing.

Administrative Building, July 8th, later that evening...

Steve Landess sat, his feet propped up on a desk as he dozed. Ibudan was running the computer gathering useful information for later use. He paused as he found the one he wanted. He smiled committing to memory the data listed below the picture. Tom Paris. Convicted of treason. Son of Fleet Admiral Owen Paris. Maquis.

Ibudan sat back considering his options and he decided that he would have this one. He had all the basic requirements. He was beautiful, blond, human and the son of one of the most important men in Star Fleet. He was a classy commodity. He would belong to Ibudan if he had to kill everyone in his way. Ibudan smiled and glanced at Landess. In ten minutes his Trill would be here and he would have his evening's entertainment watching Landess with the slender boy. It was all for a good cause, his own. Sighing with contentment he switched off the computer and put his own feet up on the desk.

Cell Block Seven, Cell 28...

Rell sat quietly meditating. He had just finished his dinner and soon his men would report to him. He would listen in his silent way and then he would dispense orders that would be followed to the letter. No one dared disobey. Rell was probably the strongest man in the prison. He bench pressed prodigious amounts of iron every day, partly for health reasons and partly to show everyone what they would face if they ever challenged him. No one understood much about his kind or they would know that his efforts were not remarkable. He came from a heavier gravity planet and therefore objects here would be easier to lift.

He meditated on his core, willing it to stillness, determined not to let his biology undermine all that he had achieved. His needs were secondary to maintaining his organization. As the first man arrived he sighed and resigned himself to listening to their noise. Among his kind communication was by telepathy. Talking with a voice was reserved for battle cries and pain. Even during sex it was anathema to make a sound. He sat shielding his mind from the battery of their emotions and listened as they told of the day's activities. He nodded, his computer-like brain assimilating information for future reference. By the time his last lieutenant spoke he had orders formulated.

One by one he told them in a very soft voice what he would have them do. One by one they nodded and left. When it was silent again, he relaxed his mind opening himself to the night sounds outside his window. Settling back on his bed, more spacious than the average inmate's bunk, he gave his mind over to solving his biggest problem. He had to decide what to do with Ibudan.

********************Summary: Tom settles in and learns the ropes...

Cell Block Seven, Cell 10...

Tom walked to the cell that would be his home with his belongings and the prison issue gear in his arms. He passed silent groups of men who stared at him, watching him as he passed with the guard. It was eerie, the stares and the silence that followed him. They reached his cell and he went inside. The prison guard told Tom what to do, then left. Tom stood for a moment, then put his things in the empty drawer and closet, careful not to disturb the gear of his roommate. He made his bed and put his grooming gear in the bathroom. Stepping back out he found himself not alone. A tall thin human stood in the doorway, dark hair and eyes, a blank expression on his face.

"Who are you?"

Tom paused. "Tom Paris. I live here."

The young man stepped in. "I'm Gavin. I live here too."

Tom nodded sitting on the bunk he had made up and sighed.

Gavin sat across from him and paused, uncertain how to start. "I heard of you," Gavin said resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers entwined.

Tom frowned. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Gavin replied. "I never had a celebrity for a roommate."

Tom grinned in spite of himself. The thin youngster grinned back. "What are you in here for?"

"Embezzlement."

Tom grinned. "Horrible crime."

"Star Fleet thought so. I made a big dent in their ledger. They aren't the forgiving kind."

Tom nodded, his smile fading. "Tell me about it."

They were silent for a moment. Gavin sighed. "You need to know about this place if you are going to survive in one piece."

"Tell me," Tom said quietly. He intended to survive and then some.

"There is a man who runs this place from our side of the fence. His name is Rell. He is one crazy ass person. I think he is a Zibalian. Anyway, he doesn't speak, he doesn't work and as far as anyone can tell after three years here, he doesn't fuck."

Tom snorted. "Shit."

"Yeah," Gavin said. "Anyway, its all pretty orderly. He runs the still and vice and other shit and the warden looks the other way because he keeps the peace in here."

Tom nodded, filing it all away for future reference.

"Right now there may be a power struggle going on. There is this Bajoran named Ibudan...at least I think he's Bajoran. He sure looks it and he tells everyone he is. Well, he wants to take Rell's place. He's in for murder and I have seen him do some pretty serious shit. Its like he has no fear. Stay away from him and his men."

Tom nodded, sighing.

"I saw Ibudan get the hots for a Bajoran boy that belonged to another Bajoran. He told him to give him the boy. When he didn't he cut off his ears. No one could pin it on him and the guy never told who it was. You don't rat in here. But Ibudan got the boy."

Tom licked his lips and sighed again. "I will remember to avoid him."

"You better. If he decides he wants you he will kill anyone that gets in his way." Gavin sighed. "He really hurt that Bajoran boy. He likes it rough. He likes it a lot and really rough."

Tom rubbed his hands together nervously and stared at the floor. He looked up at Gavin. "How do you get along in here?"

"I have a protector. I belong to a man named Martinelli. He is a lieutenant of Rell. He likes brunets." Gavin smiled. "Its funny. When he came for me and told me that I would be with him I hated him. I hated for him to touch me. But now? He treats me good and I love him. Its been nearly two years and we're good together."

Tom sighed. "So I have to find some strong or connected man to take me and then I'll be safe."

"That's how it works. With your looks every man in this place will be after you. They won't give up until they get you. I'm afraid that Ibudan will be among them. In fact count on it. Just stay away from him."

Tom nodded. Gavin rose and smiled. "Its dinner time. Lets go eat."

Tom rose and they walked out the door and down the corridor to the mess hall. All along the way eyes followed him, curious eyes, hard eyes, hungry eyes. He had never had so many intense eyes upon him before and he was working hard not to tremble. Gavin led the way and they sat down at a table together. Eating and talking, ignoring the stares, they didn't notice Ibudan walk in and pause smiling when he saw Tom. He walked over and pulled out a chair turning it around to sit on it, folding his arms across the back. Gavin stopped eating and paled. Tom sipped his coffee unconcerned.

"Hi." Ibudan smiled, the boy he chose for himself sitting across from him oblivious to who he was. This might just get easy.

"What do you want, Ibudan?" Gavin asked.

Ibudan smiled at Gavin, his eyes never leaving Tom. "I want your friend, Gavin."

Tom sat his cup down carefully composing his face. "Well, you can't have me."

"Why not?" Ibudan gazed intensely at Paris, admiring his blue eyes and aristocratic face.

"I'm not for sale."

"Oh, I'm not buying. I'm here to claim you."

Tom stared at him.

"See, its not safe for a good looking young man like you to be alone in a place like this. All these men locked up with other men... well, it isn't safe."

"Really," Tom replied, his face as blank as a slate.

"Yeah. Its easier to have one man in your bed than ten a day. If you were in my bed then you wouldn't have to worry about anyone else."

"Just you," Tom replied calmly.

"Something like that," Ibudan ventured amiably instantly finding a burning desire to bed this blond smart ass. He would have this one if it meant he had to commit murder.

"I'll take it under advisement." Tom smiled an insincere smile and turned to his food.

"Don't wait too long. The betting pool gives you until sundown before you are on your hands and knees in some dark corridor."

Ibudan rose and walked over to his table sitting among his cronies, his eyes never leaving Tom.

Gavin sighed. "He has made up his mind. He wants you."

"He will have to earn me." Tom said, his voice soft and low.

Tom made it through three days before disaster struck. He was working in the machine shop when Ibudan made a visit. #He was there before Tom noticed and the Bajoran watched Tom with covetous eyes. Tom glanced to the doorway and straightened. Ibudan smiled and walked over to him. They were about the same height but Ibudan was a bigger, more muscular man. He was older and looked as unscrupulous as he certainly was. There was an air of fatality about him that made Tom chilled and he silently vowed he would never become this man's property.

Ibudan walked closer and leaned on the work bench next to Tom. He reached out and touched Tom's hand caressing it gently. Tom pulled his hand away and turned to work. Ibudan took hold of it, the grip impressive. Gavin told him he worked out and it showed. "Don't be like that. I *like* you."

Tom waited quietly and Ibudan released him. He stared at the cowling he was working on and sighed. "What do you want?"

"I want you," he said moving to stand behind Tom, resting his hands on Tom's waist.

"Sorry," Tom replied picking up a tool to work.

Ibudan moved closer pinning Tom to the bench his groin pressing into Tom's ass. His erection rubbed along Tom's cleft and he froze. He stiffened and stood up straight.

Ibudan turned him, pulling Tom against him, his powerful arms tightening around Tom's waist. He leaned in and kissed him, his lips hard against Tom's. Tom stood passively as Ibudan kissed him and when he broke it shoved the Bajoran back.

"Don't do that again," Tom whispered, his voice dangerous.

"I will. I've decided to make you mine. The word is out. You are off limits. No one else out there is strong enough to challenge me. So why don't we cut to the chase. You come to my cell tonight and we can get to know each other. Easy, right?"

"No," Tom replied, his anger limitless. "I won't be your whore."

Ibudan smiled. "Oh, you will be. You will be or I will kill until you are." With a wink he turned and walked out the door.

Tom let out the breath he was holding. For a moment he just stood silently and then he turned back to the machine. With shaking hands he removed the cowling.

Mess Hall...

Tom walked into the mess hall and looked around for Gavin. He was nowhere to be seen. Tom gazed over at Rell, a silent figure who sat watching him as he walked to his usual table and sat down to eat. Aware of many eyes on him, he ate quietly, intent upon the contents of his tray. By doing so he didn't notice Ibudan walk over to him. He sat across from him and leaned forward on his elbows.

"So you're eating alone today?" His voice was conversational but his eyes were filled with lust.

Tom had seen that look a hundred times and he sighed inside. He continued to eat, ignoring Ibudan.

"You know you live alone now. Since you do why don't you move in with me? I could use a roommate."

Tom stared at him gauging his intent. "What did you do to Gavin?"

Ibudan smiled. "Nothing. That is nothing that can be proven."

Tom sat for a moment then rose carrying his tray to the recycler. He moved out of the mess hall as fast as he could without attracting too much attention.

Ibudan stood turning to go back to his table. As he did so his eyes met Rell's. For a moment the two men held their gaze and then Ibudan turned, a smile on his face and walked back to his table.

Cell Block Seven, Cell Ten...

Tom burst through the door and noted that Gavin's bunk was empty. He checked the closet, dresser and bathroom. All of his belongings were gone. He stood in the room panting with fear and confusion. Gavin was gone.

Just then he heard a noise by the door. Tom turned and stared into the dark and cruel eyes of Ibudan.

************************Crossfire

Cell Block Seven, Cell ten...

Tom stared at the Bajoran, his heart pounding. It was happening again. He was being reduced to nothing, to become less than a toy. The Bajoran had followed him here just as he had followed him the past few days. Ibudan was an up and coming young Turk and Tom had avoided him as best he could. Yet everywhere he turned the Bajoran was there. It was worse than the hungry stares he got from too many people. He was aware that a lot of paybacks could be had by hurting him.

He stared at the Bajoran and felt himself filled with rage. He might not win. The man was very strong and big but he would have a fight on his hands. Tom resolved to fight. Turning and facing Ibudan squarely, he waited for him to come close.

"You are going to fight are you?"

"You're going to have to earn me." Tom clenched his fists his eyes never leaving Ibudan's.

"That's all right. I don't mind," he said stepping into the cell, the door sliding shut behind him. "I like it rough."

For a moment they stood, then Ibudan rushed Tom, his charge fast and unexpected. He slammed Tom into the wall knocking the wind out of him. Ibudan slugged Tom three times in the stomach, then turned and threw him across the room, crashing him into the wall. Ibudan smiled, barely breaking a sweat and walked to the young man huddled on the floor. Tom slammed his fist into Ibudan's groin, the older man bending over in pain as Tom struggled to his feet. Tom struck him on the chin and Ibudan flew against the back wall striking it and falling to the floor.

For a moment he sat pain-filled and stunned, then rage flooded him and he rose determined to beat Paris. He launched himself again, his speed once more surprising Tom and they fell on the bed. Ibudan straddled the younger man and punched his face once, twice, then again.

Tom stunned and bloodied lay still gasping for breath around the blood in his nose. He felt rough hands turn him over and fingers fumble with his clothes. Rising in rage, he was shoved down and his head held against the bed. Struggling to break free he felt himself smothering as the Bajoran pressed him into the mattress. Just before he blacked out the hand released him and he gasped for breath, blood covering the blanket.

He had no strength, hardly any breath and was unable to stop Ibudan from doing what he came to do. Tom clutched the bed willing himself to silence and waited until Ibudan was done. The Bajoran pulled himself up fastening his clothes as he stared at the body of his latest acquisition. Paris was battered and bruised but he was also marked. He would be Ibudan's and as he reached down and squeezed Tom's ass he smiled. Landess would never get a piece of this. Paris was his alone.

Cell Block Seven, Cell Ten...

For a long time Tom lay on the bed aching and bloodied. Finally he sat up pained and weak, walking to the bathroom and washing his face over and over with cold water. He stripped and showered, taking care with his sore body and changed into a new prison overall. Walking over to the bed, he lay down carefully and closed his eyes. He had been in this prison three days and already he was less than nothing. He was the personal property of Ibudan of Bajor and there was nothing he could do about it.

Cell Block...

Rell sat meditating as he did in the evening battling his nature in his solitude. He mulled over the report he had been given about Ibudan. The Bajoran didn't take a piss in this place that Rell wasn't told about it. So Ibudan had taken another prisoner as his own. First the Trill and now the Admiral's son. He barely tolerated Ibudan taking the Trill. Something about the Bajoran turned Rell's stomach. Trills were beautiful even to his eyes and the idea of Ibudan using his Trill like a whore sat very badly with him.

As bad as it was to order and harmony, the idea of Ibudan having sex with the delicate beautiful youngster was difficult to take. The idea that he passed him to others bothered him at his core level. It was against the way. No one was supposed to do that to their bond. Rell was aware that Ibudan had compromised three guards including Steve Landess. He was aware of his rifling of the computers for information to use against anyone he needed. He was aware of his interest in the Paris boy before he made his move. His network told him that Ibudan had watched the youngster when he arrived.

Nothing Ibudan did went unwatched. Of course he didn't know that. But that was his Persian flaw. Rell paused, a flash of beauty passing through his mind, a cry and then sadness. The Trill was being used again. Rell felt rage fill him and then he pushed it down. He would take care of Ibudan. He, Rell would teach him the meaning of life. The Trill would be forfeit to him and he would take care of him. Rell loved beauty, alien or otherwise. The Trill was very beautiful. Soon it would be his and he would treat it right.

Soon. When Ibudan was dead and buried.

Auckland Penal Colony, New Zealand, the next day...

Tom dressed slowly, sore and bruised, marks of violence all over his body. He washed his face, careful of the bruise that discolored his jaw. A split lip completed his facial disfigurement but they paled next to the pain in his ass and the sorrow of his heart. He had fought back and lost but for the first time he felt less helpless. He may not win the war with the Bajoran but he would make sure the skirmishes counted. He made a vow to fight back every time the Bajoran came and come he would. Ibudan had decided to possess him and Tom knew what that meant. The Bajoran would not stop until he had what he wanted or Tom was dead. One way or the other, Tom lost. He licked his lips, wincing at the cut in his lip, then he turned and walked into the cell stopping when he saw a guard standing quietly in the middle of the room.

The guard walked to him without a word, taking his jaw into his hand examining it carefully. Tom's face was shuttered, his emotions stored beneath layers of protection. The guard pulled a re-generator out of his pocket moving it over the cuts and bruises slowly and expertly. Tom stood still as the guard removed the last trace of his injury. He finished and put the re-generator into Tom's hand, a smirk on his face. Tom looked at him, his eyes filled with hatred and moved around him limping slightly out the door.

Officer Landess watched the youngster go, admiring his beauty and he smiled. Ibudan only let him have the Trill. He had learned to appreciate the 'different' charms of a man's body. Maybe he would let him have a crack at the leggy blond that just left. He sighed, his hopes high as he left the cell, the door hissing shut behind him.

Prison Mess Hall...

The mess hall was a microcosm of the prison, the dynamics of seating a good indicator into the power politics of confinement. A knowledgeable person would be able to tell from a simple mapping of the seating and flow of individuals who was who and who belonged to whom. The best tables, the ones by the big window were taken by the power elite, the minions of the King Rat. The best seat, the one next to the window was occupied by the Zibalian. Arrayed around him in concentric circles, his lieutenants buffered him against intrusion or danger.

At the far end of the room, Ibudan sat, his young minions sitting at three tables with him. Around them flowed the rest of the prisoners sitting in groups, often dictated by species. Into the room and into line Tom walked, his hands sweating and his heart pounding. He took a tray and quietly walked along, food being served to him by trustees. Tom turned, taking his coffee cup in hand and stopped short of moving to a seat. Ibudan sat at his table, his laser eyes burning into Tom as he gestured with his gaze to the seat next to him.

Tom stood, the heat of the coffee burning his fingers, his mind in a turmoil over what to do. He couldn't go to Ibudan. No way in hell. He would have to fight him. Tom had made up his mind. He would not become the property of another man without a fight. For a moment Tom didn't know what to do. Then it became clear to him. Without another thought he turned and walked over to Rell.

Ibudan watched Tom turn and walk toward the Zibalian with carefully disguised rage. He didn't betray a single emotion, yet internally he had not been this angry in a very long time. He watched as the young man stopped in front of Rell's outer ring. As Tom approached he was aware of many eyes on him. A large number of very big men rose and faced him, their message clear. He swallowed, his facade flickering for a moment and then Rell snapped his fingers. The men glanced at him, then sat down again.

Rell stared at Tom, his dark eyes unreadable. With a flicker of his eyes, he ordered Tom to come and sit in the empty chair next to his. He moved nervously around the big men who watched him with hard eyes. Moving to the empty chair, hesitating for just a short moment, he sat his tray down and then himself. Rell sat back in his chair and threw a big arm casually over the back of Tom's chair gazing unblinkingly at the slim human eating his breakfast next to him. With an internal smile, he turned his gaze to Ibudan.

Across the room, the Bajoran fumed in silence watching the big alien take possession of his boy. The room was very quiet as everyone busied themselves in their meal. The tension was intense as both sides took their measure of the other. When Rell slipped his arm over Tom's chair and turned a cool gaze on Ibudan, he knew that the gauntlet had been thrown down. Rell was taking possession of his boy and unless he could get him back and teach him a lesson Ibudan was finished.

Ibudan met Rell's gaze and leaned back nonchalantly in his chair. He slipped his hands behind his head as he gazed across the room. This would up the ante and speed up his timetable. In the end he would prevail because it didn't matter to him what it took to be number one. And when he claimed that place, Ibudan vowed to claim Tom Paris. When he got through with Paris, the boy would be begging him to fuck him.

Twenty silent minutes later...

Tom ate his food, barely able to swallow and acted like he was always a pawn in a war between ruthless men. He usually was. This should be like other times but it wasn't. The men playing this game were soulless and they played for keeps. They ran this place, organized it and maintained their control with any means necessary. One lone man, friendless and without tangible assets was walking a fine line. He had to align himself with someone strong enough to give him the protection he needed. He also had to give to that person something in exchange.

Since his services as a pilot would not be useful inside the walls of this place, that left very few things to trade. A canny knowledge of wine, fluent French, a wide ranging familiarity with great books and the ability to play piano at a high level of proficiency were hardly trade goods this market would value. Tom sipped his coffee once again falling back on the one service he could provide and feeling the familiar sinking feeling overtake him. He closed his eyes for a moment, then continued his meal. He had done a lot of things, had acquired a good education and had talents that made him unique. He knew his value as a pilot. Yet when push came to shove it was how willing he would be to align himself with a man who would use him in his bed that would determine his fate. Before it was always someone taking what they wanted without a thought to his own comfort or feelings. Now he made his choice and maybe it would work out.

If he stayed with the Bajoran he would suffer. This alien, Rell was not known to have sex. He was a closed book and no one really got a peek inside. If he aligned himself with this man he just might be spared the trauma of having to sleep with another stranger. And if he wanted Tom in his bed, at least Tom *came* to him. Sitting there drinking his coffee, it amazed him how much better he felt about his situation knowing that.

Cell Block Seven

Ibudan straightened his clothes and walked into the bathroom washing his hands and getting himself ready to go to his job in the Administration Building. He felt a lot better having worked out his frustrations. His rage had been contained and it would not interfere with his thinking. He would continue on with the plan albeit at a much faster pace. In the end he would win and that bastard Paris would be his. He contemplated no other resolution. Turning to leave, he stared at the bloodied battered Trill laying on the bed and sighed. He would have to send someone down to take care of him. It wouldn't do for one of his most popular assets to be put out of commission for too long. A little repair here and there and he would be as good as new. With that, Ibudan turned and left the room.

Mess Hall...

Tom finished his meal and rose to dump his tray when a big hand caught his arm, the power of the grip stunning him as he sat back down. He licked his lips, his eyes carefully focused on his tray and waited. The hand let go of him and he sat back, letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. The men sitting around him rose and began to walk away taking their trays and Rell's to be discarded. As the room emptied Tom began to wonder how he would explain being late for his work station. Soon the room was empty but for Rell and Tom. The big man turned in his chair and reached over to Tom, taking his face in hand and examining it carefully from side to side. Tom stared into the Zibalian's eyes and noted that there was no white to them. They were a solid brown, complimenting the tattooing that swirled around his forehead.

As he stared at the tattoo Tom noticed that it had been puckered when applied and so when it healed a fine ridge was raised. The tattoo disappeared into the fine black hair that fell in shaggy array around the man's still face. The alien's silence was unnerving and Tom found himself fidgeting in spite of himself. Rell took his hand and examined it, then he lay a hand on Tom's thigh, running it up and down that lean limb. Tom swallowed, lowering his eyes as the silent alien took inventory of his body. He sighed and cleared his throat, licking dry lips as he waited. Finally, the alien removed his hand and sat quietly contemplating the young human with unfathomable eyes.

"So," Tom asked, his glib voice shaky, "do I pass inspection?"

The alien didn't reply, his solemn eyes regarding Tom directly. Tom glanced away staring at his hands. "You know, in my culture it's considered impolite to stare."

A slow smile formed on Rell's face. "Is that so, human."

Tom bit his lip and glanced at Rell. "So you speak."

"I can if I wish," Rell replied,his voice soft and menacing in its timbre.

"So what now?" Tom asked, his voice betraying a bit of his weariness.

"Ibudan wants you. He claimed you last night."

Tom flushed, his face coloring with his embarrassment. "You heard about that did you?"

Rell smiled again. "No one does anything in this place that I don't find out about." He shifted and took Tom's hand again. "Ibudan wants to make you his woman."

Tom paled, the word affecting him like fingernails dragged across a chalkboard.

"You came to me instead. That makes you mine."

Tom stared at him, his distress showing only in his eyes and nodded.

"You are mine. You have my protection. He will come after you. You will be safe with my people. When I am done with Ibudan there will be nothing left of him. Then I will take his Trill too."

Tom nodded turning his gaze to the view beyond the window. Somewhere on the other side of the universe was a man that he had found a moment's peace with, a brief interlude in the terror that had pursued him for so long. He might be dead or not, captured or not. No matter what he was the first and last man since the Academy that had touched him and he felt something in response. Looking at the big alien who just claimed him he knew it would not be much different than Marseilles. He shut his eyes and sighed.

**********************************An unusual man makes an impression

Machine Shop, Auckland Prison Colony, Mid shift that same day...

Tom worked on the engine, his hands only shaking slightly as he struggled to get the cowling off. It had been a very tense morning and god only knew what would happen later. He was to go to his cell after shift, shower, change and then bring his belongings to Rell's. He would be living there from now on. Tom glanced up noting that one of Rell's goons now worked in the machine shop and marveled at the influence that the man had. He was powerful enough to do what he wanted and Tom felt a minuscule sense of relief that he was protected. Ibudan had looked at him with a clear intent. The sun baked down as Tom worked and another day slipped by out of the nearly three years he would have to be here.

Prison Exercise Yard...

Rell sat on the bench, the sun warming him. It was his favorite time of the day when meal time was over and everyone was at their work. He was an unusual man. He did not do a job everyday. His job was unseen. The Warden was grateful as he managed a mixed species installation of dangerous volatile men. He cut Rell slack and never looked too closely. It had actually been calmer here since Rell had ousted the last man to occupy his spot and he was conscious of his debt. It was never spoken.

It was acknowledged by omission.

Rell ran a black market, contraband and illicit drugs, and a still. He was given access to records and allowed to post his people in jobs that maintained order. He was allowed to move prisoners from their cells to others and thus those in relationships were allowed to live together. Of course they owed him by asking but it was a small price to pay for most. It was a well run, orderly prison that he presided over on his side of the barrier. But it was a lonely one. There had never been a Zibalian in the prison system of the Federation and they were an enigma to the people charged with maintaining Rell.

Rell was sensitive to sound, preferring not to speak and then if he had to, in the softest of tones. He was silent, moving with an economy that reminded one of a tiger. He was immensely strong, coming from a high gravity world to Earth and he worked out daily to maintain his muscle tone and physique. Rell had made no overt attempts to find someone to sleep with in the three years he had been here and no one was even sure that he was capable of biological sex. He never uncovered his body no matter how hot it was and there was a lot of speculation, none of it public about what he looked like naked.

Rell sighed silently, meditating on the core, the center inside where he lived. All Zidalians meditated, especially the unbonded males like him. They were creatures of their biology, slaves to the eruptions of passion that often overtook them when they were not vigilant. He had been sloppy that day in the station bar when he had been overtaken by his body and his desire for the slim alien woman standing at the bar. As a consequence he was now a ward of the state for fifteen years. Coming into the prison he had quietly learned the structure and in two months he was the man in charge. It had not taken more than a few weeks to eliminate, intimidate and coerce his way to the top. He was brilliant, a walking computer. He was aware of everything.

Rell was also a telepath, the preferred method of communication by his people. The emotions and actions of others came to him clearly from the minds of his enemies and competitors. They of course did not know this and he told no one. It was an advantage he utilized to his benefit. Sitting in the sun, relaxing from his responsibilities for a few moments he went inside himself and did something he thought he would never do here. He made room in the core, in his center for the presence of another. He would make a bond with the slim human that had come to him seeking his protection. With a rising sense of peace, Rell smiled and turned inward once again.

Cell Block Seven

Tom Paris finished packing the meager belongings of his cell into a bag and straightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had showered and changed, nervously grooming himself and then he walked to the door bag in hand and stepped toward his new and uncertain life.

In Rell's Cell Block

Tom put his things away and walked to the bed sitting and rubbing his face nervously with his hands. The bed was better and bigger than his own. Obviously being a force in the prison had its perks he thought bitterly. The room was sparse, a mat on the floor by the far wall. Even the cell was bigger than usual. As he sat lost in thought he did not notice Rell walk into the room. Rell walked to him, startling him and took his face into hand, raising his eyes to meet his own. Tom stared paralyzed as the big alien slowly smiled. Rell caressed Tom's face gently and then pulled him to his feet. Tom stood silently, stoically waiting as he went through the unfamiliar sensation of having to look up to another person. Rell was a bigger and taller man than him and in the simple act of taking his hand and pulling him to his feet Tom felt a modicum of the immense strength the man possessed.

A strong hand caressed Tom's cheek gently, a thumb slowly rubbing Tom's lips. Then with another smile he nodded to the door. Tom paused and then turned to go, Rell's hand resting on the small of his back. They walked out the door to dinner.

Mess Hall...

Dinner was silent as Tom sat next to Rell and ate. Ringing them, his lieutenants ate as well. On the other side of the room Ibudan sat oblivious to Rell, his table filled with conversation and laughter as it was any other day. However, Ibudan was burning with anger and it would not subside until he had his revenge. As he ate and talked with his men he mentally organized the plan that he would implement to gain control of the prison.

Three hours later...

Tom sat beside Rell working at keeping himself calm, waiting as the alien went through his nightly instructions with his men. Night fell as they finished and with a cadre of body guards they walked into the building to go to Rell's cell. As the door shut behind them Tom stood tensed in the middle of the room, fists clenched. Rell walked over and touched his face with a tender caress. Tom blinked, startled at the gentle touch once again. Rell rubbed Tom's cheek and then his neck caressing the soft skin and then he smiled.

"Go to bed."

Tom hesitated, then walked to the bed, stripping his clothes down to his underwear, slipping into the sheets. He lay down uncertain about which side of the bed to take and then he lay quietly, his back to the wall as he watched Rell move to the mat and sit, relaxing and closing his mind. /...He meditates. That's what the mat is for.../

Tom sighed pensively waiting for the big alien to end his meditation and join him. What would happen then he didn't know.

Four hours later...

Tom felt someone move in next to him and he awoke with a start. The alien was there sliding into the bed and making himself comfortable. Tom held his breath as Rell turned to him and pulled him into his arms. He lay on the alien, his leg thrown over Rells's and his arm around Rell's waist. Rell stroked his face, his fingers whisper soft and tucked Tom's head into the crook of his neck. Then he lay still. Tom suppressed his shock and surprise, lying as still as he could. The big body beside and beneath him became very still, only the even breathing of the alien evidence that life still thrived in the silent form. Tom had never experienced anyone so quiet before and it unnerved him.

A strong arm rising from the bed began to stroke his back in soothing massaging motions and he found himself relaxing marginally. For a long time he lay still, the hand gently stroking him and then he fell asleep.

The next morning...

Tom awoke alone in the bed. Noise from the bathroom told him where Rell was. He lay still trying to remember the kaleidoscope of dreams that he had one after another in the night. It was an odd phenomenon, as if someone was turning a holographic book of the pages of his life and was rifling through them. He had never had a dream like that and he felt mildly disturbed.

Rell came out of the bathroom pausing to stare at Tom. With a nod of his head, he motioned Tom to rise and take care of his needs. Tom complied and dressed in his day's clothes pausing by the bed uncertain. Rell stared at the bed and then Tom. The younger man moved to make it. He waited quietly, observantly. Rell had watched the youngster, the fires in his core flaring as the graceful boy tidied up. He felt his control tested as he watched without touching. When the boy was finished he walked to him taking his slim waist into his hands. He stared deeply into the blue eyes memorizing that which emanated from the soul of the younger man.

Tom became uneasy but found he could not look away. Rell had caught him holding him in his gaze and he sighed audibly, his distress building. What would happen now?

For several minutes Rell watched Tom, his aura bright around him. He had let down his walls in his distress and the alien took his measure. He pulled the youngster close to him watching Tom's fear and unease rise and more was disclosed. Rell smiled slowly and pulled Tom closer rubbing his cheek against Tom's

Tom stood stock still, his arms around Rell as the man slowly rubbed his face against Tom's. Tom didn't know that he was telling Rell things about himself with every touch and that slowly Rell was building toward the moment when he would link himself to Tom and they would share a mental and emotional bond that would enhance the physical beyond anything the human was capable of creating. It was what he, Rell needed and now with this boy craved with an unholy desire. He would take this slow, winning the youngster over and then when he least expected it, he would bond and they would join their flesh together in deep and abiding silence.

************************TBC c1998