Tales from the Empire:
Voyager – Part One
The following takes place in a version of the Terran Empire that did not fall to the Cardassian-Klingon Alliance. These events are adapted from various parts of the Voyager television series.
Enjoy.
Chapter One:
Broken Beginnings
The sun blazed upon the scorched Earth at the New Zealand Penal Colony. Imperial overseers stood, watching over the prisoners as they toiled upon menial tasks.
Tom Paris lifted his hammer for yet another blow to the stubborn stone before him, when he was interrupted by a shadow suddenly falling over him. Looking up, he saw an Overseer flanking an officer in Imperial Uniform, and all black jump suite, with red shoulders. She wore the rank of a Captain, on the left of her chest, the Imperial Emblem sat, shining in the unforgiving sun. She held out her hand, offering a canteen of water.
"You look thirsty Mr Paris." She said, her tone surprisingly soft for a woman with a phaser fixed to her belt.
"I don't believe I've had the privilege." He said, accepting the canteen and draining it. The women smiled.
"I'm Captain Catherine Janeway, I've just taken command of a new prototype ship, the I.S.S Voyager."
"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" With these insubordinate words, the Overseer pushed a button on his belt, causing Paris to keel in pain as his Agonizer was activated. Janeway raised a hand. The pain ceased.
"Mr Paris, I am here to offer you this one and only alternative to incarceration."
"You should have opened with that." His words warranted another jolt of the Agonizer from the overseer. "Well, you have my undivided attention Captain." He groaned, wiping blood from his nose.
"Walk with me" she ordered. The overseer pulled him to his feet and dragged him alongside the Captain. "I think he can walk overseer. You're dismissed." Beating his right fist to his chest and extending his arm, he saluted her before walking away to arbitrarily torture some inmates.
"You trust me not to wrestle your phaser from you and kill you where you stand?"
"If you wish to try Mr Paris be my guest, the punishment you'll face from the overseers will make you wish you were dead. Not to mention, it would be idiotic not to hear out my proposal."
"Ah, yes, this enticing offer, care to elaborate?" he mocked.
"My orders from Imperial Starfleet are to track down a known Rebel Commander by the name of Chakotay. He's leading a small group of terrorists in the Badlands, I'm to bring him back to the Empire. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter, either way he will be punished for his affront to Imperial might."
"Very interesting. But the question remains as to why you want me…"
"Do you really think I don't know why you're in here? 'Conspiracy to Commit Terrorism' and that's after your father used his pull in the Admiralty to reduce the charge. I'm well aware you have in depth knowledge of the Badlands and you were a skilful pilot in the Imperial Academy before this unfortunate set of circumstances. The Terran Empire is not unfair Mr Paris, help us and we will help you."
"What makes you think I would pledge elegance to the Empress, to Starfleet again?"
"Your freedom makes me think it Mr Paris."
"Even if I did help you, I've never seen an Imperial ship that could maneuverer the plasma storms of the Badlands."
"You've not seen Voyager Mr Paris. I will make arrangements for your immediate transfer to my custody." Before turning to leave, she saluted him in the traditional Imperial fashion. Tom, hesitantly returned the salute. With a smile of success upon her face, Janeway turned and walked back to her shuttle.
A week had passed since his meeting with Janeway. Tom Paris sat in the passenger seat of a shuttle as it weaved its way between the debris of various star ships.
Turning his attention to the pilot, a Vulcan, he said, "The Empire doesn't like to clean up its messes huh?" the pilot remained silent. "But then I 'spose the retaking of the Bajor sector was one hell of a mess." Still nothing from his silent companion.
Paris sat back and fidgeted. He couldn't get used to his new Imperial Uniform. The seconds turned to minutes in silence until;
"Approaching station Deep Space Nine. This is shuttle Vixen requesting permission to dock." The shuttles communicator crackled into life.
"Permission Granted shuttle Vixen. Pad five is available to you." As the shuttle banked, a ship came into view, docked at one of the upper pylons. She was small, but had the air of a fighter about her.
"Is that the Voyager?" asked Paris.
"Aye sir. A new variable Warp nacelle configuration allows her to reach Warp 9.975. Bio Neural Circuitry performs calculations faster than any other computer. Weapons systems enhanced with technology replicated from a captured Borg scout, with experimental Quantum Torpedoes. Fifteen decks and a crew compliment of 141." Reeled off the Vulcan.
"Well Ensign. I think that's the most I've heard you talk." Said Paris, as the ship banked once more and made final approach for the docking pad.
Quark's bar was quite. A beam still lay in the middle of the room, broken glass still lay across the bar in places. Damage from the Terran re-taking of the station. Blood stained the carpet where Imperial Captain Ben Sisko had executed Intendant Kira Nerys and Klingon Regent Worf.
In the corner of the bar, a Terran ensign sat, watching with disdain as the Ferengi attempted to peddle his wares to him. A tray of shining crystals.
"Incredibly rare of course." He was saying, "Perfect decoration for the quarters of any Imperial officer…" The young Asian man picked up a crystal to survey it.
"How much?"
"They're fake." Came a voice from the door before Quark could answer. "You'll find those on any planet in the system. Completely worthless." Tom Paris strode into the bar and took the vacant seat next to the Ensign. "Tom Paris." He said introducing himself.
"Kim. Harry Kim. These things really fake?" asked the young Ensign.
"Bolian cow dung is worth more." Answered Paris frankly. With these words, Kim leapt from his seat and drew his phaser, pinning Quark against the bar, phaser against his throat as it hummed with power, charging to maximum setting, the tray of crystals knocked carelessly to the floor. Just as his thumb hovered over the trigger, a call from the station speaker system sounded.
"All crew and personnel report to Voyager immediately. Repeat. All crew and personnel report to Voyager immediately." Kim threw the Ferengi to the floor before holstering his phaser.
"The next time I see you, I'll kill you." He said before turning to Paris, "Coming?"
"Lead the way Ensign."
The doors to the turbolift hissed open as Captain Janeway stepped onto the bridge. The two security guards standing either side of the door raised their right fists in salute as she passed. The bridge was a hive of activity, she leant on the railing behind the joint command seats.
Voyagers Executive Officer, Command Cavit stood next to a young Asian ensign at the op's console, reviewing various preparations for cast off from Deep Space Nine.
Tom Paris stood behind the young Andorian Helmsmen, plotting a course through the Badlands.
Janeway turned and walked towards the tactical station, a tall imposing officer stood tapping at various controls on the console. Seeing the Captain approaching, he snapped to attention.
"At ease Mr…?"
"Lieutenant Cromwell Ma'am. Temporary Tactical Officer." He reeled off.
"And what are you doing here Mr Ashby?" she asked looking down at the display in front of him.
"I'm reviewing tactical data supplied by Mr Paris ma'am. Pre-programming and attack plan into the computer."
"I like the initiative Lieutenant, you'll go far on this ship."
"Thank you ma'am" he said, springing to an imperial salute as she left before returning to his calculations. Commander Cavit looked up from the op's station as the Captain took her seat in the left of the command chairs. As he approached, he raised his fist to the air, a salute that was returned by Janeway.
"Status?" she asked.
"All personnel reported for duty. Last of the supplies loaded and accounted for. Warp Core at maximum efficiency, we are reading a point five per cent variance in the Warp Field but it's nothing the helm can't handle in flight. All military systems stand ready."
"Very well Commander. Secure all stations and prepare for cast off."
"Aye Sir." He raised his hand and tapped the badge on his chest; a small bleep confirmed an open channel. "All hands secure stations and report for launch. Set condition blue throughout the ship." The lights on the bridge changed to a deep blue, the standard level of alertness for a ships cast off. Cavit's command badge crackled to life as the various stations checked in with the bridge;
"Engineering secure and ready."
"Sickbay secure and ready."
"Transporters secure and ready."
"Sensor Array secure and ready."
"Labs secure and ready." Cavit turned and faced the Captain.
"All stations report secure and ready ma'am. Awaiting your command." He saluted once more.
"Helm, bring us away from the station, lay in a course for the Badlands, best speed." After several seconds of tapping frantically at the controls, the young Vulcan turned and said;
"Course laid in, helm ready Captain." Janeway turned and smiled at Cavit,
"Let's go get us some rebels. Engage."
End of Chapter