AN: OK, so this work is going to be consistent with current military structures. On a ship of 140-150 crew there would be:
Captain (Janeway)
XO – Executive Officer – Commander or Lt. Commander. (Cavit/Chakotay)
Service heads – Full Lieutenant or Lt. Commander - Navigation (Sadi, KIA/Paris), Medical (Lt. Comm. McGary, KIA/EMH), Tactical (Tuvok), Operations (Ens. Kim?), Engineering (Lt Comm. Howard, KIA/Torres).
Department heads – some whom would be non-commissioned officers, such as O'Brian as the Transporter Chief. The rest would be Lieutenant's junior grade or Ensign's.
My Navy friend did suggest that Engineering would have its own structure as it would be one of the largest crew contingents on any ship. So you might get another Lt. Commander and one or two Lieutenants as Assistant Engineers, making a total of 10 to 15 commissioned officers on Voyager.
The following information is taken from Memory Alpha
1 x Captain
1 x Commander
10 x Lt. Commander
38 x Lieutenant
47 x Ensign
Leaving 43 – 53 crewmen to do all the grunt work. (Yes, you see me rolling on the floor laughing as my Navy friend said there would be less than 10% commissioned officers.)
Now that we have that sorted out, and will be using the correct number of officers, on with the show. Oh, the reason will become obvious as this story continues.
"Don't you think," Chakotay grinned, his dark eyes twinkling as the exchange between Paris and Janeway ended, "you were a little brutal?"
"Nope," Tom used one of his favourite twentieth century expressions while concentrating on getting the Maquis raider away from the much larger vessel before they brought their tractor beam or weapons on line. Concentrating on manoeuvring the lighter, more agile craft, Paris's fingers danced over the navigation board before him.
Val Jean took heavy damage from a Cardassian Fourth Order Battle Cruiser on their last raid a week previously. They'd managed to escape capture and destroy a Dominion staging base before limping into the Badlands, disguising their ion trail within the plasma storms. The engineering crew finally got the warp core up and running at peak efficiency yesterday, only to encounter the Federation vessel, Voyager.
Unwilling to give anything about their ship away, the three officers occupied the minuscule bridge of Val Jean, analysing the recent transmission. Tom sat before the navigation controls, giving the pilot easy access to the forward view screen and the recent image of Voyager's bridge. Chakotay, as the Captain, sat to his left at the combined tactical and operations console, while Torres directed engineering from her position to Tom's right. The three vastly different individuals worked together as a well oiled team. They understood Paris's plan before he'd engaged impulse power.
Just as well Torres is one of the best engineers in the quadrant, Tom thought to himself, I'm going to need speed to get us out of this one because Voyager is the first of the new Intrepid class ships. Even if these thirty nine year old rebuilt engines fail, B'Elanna's brand of attention can repair them. If I've damage them again with this manoeuvre, she'll wipe the floor with my lifeless carcass, even if I am her commanding officer.
"Just how do you know Captain Kathryn Janeway, Helmboy?" B'Elanna ridiculed the man sitting beside her. She'd been watching the cocky pilot from the corner of her eye, knowing Tom Paris well enough to read the thoughts flashing across his face. Waiting for Val Jean to skim a glancing blow of Voyager's topside shields, the engineer did her best to dampen the jarring on their old ship and limit crew casualties. "One of your conquests while at the academy, or maybe on the Exeter?"
Snorting, Tom allowed a wide grin in answer, now he'd transitioned into warp and given them some breathing room. "What do you take me for?" he fired back at the engineer. The close confines allowed Tom to deliberately knock his knee into hers playfully. "Janeway has to be fifteen years older than me."
"Anything in a skirt, Paris," Chakotay tormented, chuckling as the man's sour look narrowed on him. On the other side, B'Elanna smirked and elbowed their pilot in the ribs. Tom Paris was well known for his flirtatious ways and charismatic personality. He seemed to be able to talk his way out of anything.
"Dear Old Dad is how I know of Kathryn Janeway," Tom rolled his eyes while using a sardonic tone. Turning his focus back to the screen, he'd soon need all his attention on the upcoming obstacles making up the aptly named Badlands. However, Paris would take the good natured teasing while he could get it. Things were about to get tough for everyone on board, if he read the situation correctly. "Captain Paris only accepted the brightest and the best from the Academy. He chose Ensign Janeway to join him on the Al-Batani during the Orias Expedition. We all know how that ended. Anyway, she finished up with a promotion to Lieutenant and as Chief Science officer after eighteen months."
"Someone The Admiral approved of," Chakotay teased. They all knew of Tom's estrangement from his family. It had occurred three years ago after he'd been framed for a shuttle accident killing several officers on Caldik Prime. That event drew the three together, and they'd been together ever since.
"You could say that," Tom responded with a good natured grin. His humour rapidly disappeared when he considered all he'd lost. "Pity his son never measured up to his lofty standards."
"Speaking of pity," Torres almost growled from her station, willing the pilot into a happier headspace, "are you going to make a party out of this, or get us somewhere safe. I'm sure my engines are crying out for attention."
"What do you think I'm doing," Paris spared the half Klingon a condescending glare. "I didn't bounce off Voyager's shields for nothing. I was trying to save your precious warp core."
"Really," B'Elanna teased. "Looked more like you deliberately dropped us out of warp to off load that Vulcan petaQ. Not that anyone on board cares that he's gone."
"And I thought I was the Captain of this tub," Chakotay rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips lifting into a half smile. He'd become use to the banter among the command crew, especially between his first and second officers. There'd always been a frisson of sexual tension surrounding them which, to the best of the crew's knowledge, remained unresolved. Chakotay had given up trying to understand Paris or his relationship with Torres. He found it easier to just play along with the rogue and his half Klingon sidekick.
"I never did like you twisted sense of humour, Chakotay," B'Elanna spared her captain a hostile glare. Turning on the pilot, she demanded, "You avoided my question, Helmboy. Do I need to be terrified for my engines after that little stunt? Remember, we worked round the clock for the last week so you could achieve that infantile manoeuvre."
"Be afraid, Torres," Tom quipped mockingly, "be very afraid." Sighing at her continued glare, Paris spoke more professionally than the Engineer or Captain expected. "I'm taking this bucket of bolts through the plasma fields to a small M class planetoid on the other side. We can land there and make any necessary repairs. However, I'm going to need all the power in the impulse engines and aft thrusters you can spare to navigate the storms and vortexes. Voyager will expect us to put down in the Terikoff Belt beyond the Moriya system. I don't want to live up to their expectations."
"Damage my engines," the Engineer threatened.
"Heard it all before, Torres," Tom smirked, returning to his cocky best.
"That," Chakotay rose from his seat rolling his eyes, "is my cue to exit. Play nicely children, and try to remember who's the Captain. I'll be in my ready room if anyone needs me."
"Yes, Sir," Tom snorted with a playful salute. Ready room was pushing the boundaries of reality. Chakotay's cabin, the largest on the ship served as his office as well as quarters. It wasn't much bigger than the bridge.
"Hey, Captain," Paris threw over his shoulder as they entered the threshold of the Badlands, "why don't you take Torres with you. I could use a quiet mental atmosphere to concentrate while I steer this old tub through the storms. Right now, I can here her fury building and I haven't even placed her engines in danger."
"Yet," B'Elanna turned her chair to give the helmsman an evil glare and a swift kick to his calf.
"See what I mean," Pairs teased, rubbing his calf playfully. It gave Tom time to signal his intentions to the Engineer. Growling deep in her throat, B'Elanna indicated she understood. "I want her charged with insubordination and assault."
"Like it's the first time I've ignored you," B'Elanna huffed, doing her best to display her aggressive Klingon tendencies.
"Come on, Torres," Chakotay shook his head and smirked, it had been like this between them since the day they'd met, "lets leave our resident genius alone. I give you permission to break every bone, except the ones in his hands, if he so much as causes a shudder in the impulse drive."
"Why leave out his hands?" B'Elanna asked with a grin which earned her a look and sarcastic lip curl from Paris. They both understood Chakotay's implied order. The helmsman needed his fingers in working order to get them out of this situation and any others that might crop up.
Tom waited several minutes after the Captain and Engineer retreated to their duties, until they were well into the plasma storms and B'Elanna signalled she was ready. Reaching into his fatigue pocket, he took out a minuscule device. Attaching it to the com's console, he opened a channel to Starfleet Command and Admiral Patterson's office. The Admiral took a few moments to answer.
"Sir," Tom nodded, his attention on the difficult course he needed to pilot.
"Commander Paris," Patterson responded. "Report."
"We have encountered Voyager. Her tactical officer has been returned with our findings since my last report," Tom stated easily.
Nodding, the Admiral responded, "I've the isoliner chips data streamed from Voyager and the original destroyed."
"I gave Lt. Tuvok other tactical information," he stated succinctly. "He will need to be carefully debriefed. Further orders?"
"You are to let Voyager capture you, Commander. I want you and Lt. Torres back at intelligence. We have another situation that needs immediate attention. Patterson out," the Admiral cut the transmission.
Even out here in the DMZ, under the cover of the Badlands, there was a chance either the Maquis, the Cardassian's or a Federation Starship might capture and decode the message. If they did, his cover, and B'Elanna's would be blown.
Not that it isn't already, Tom sighed.
Three years earlier.
"I'm telling you, Dad," Tom almost whined. He hated it when his voice took on that tone. "I didn't mistake the aft thruster control for anything else. I made that mistake when I was eight years old and crashed your class S shuttle. I learnt my lesson way back then. You know, if I make a error, I'm the first to report it and I never put myself in the same situation again."
Nodding sagely, Admiral Paris looked at the PADD in his hand before throwing it on his desk in a fit of rage. Eye's narrowing on the young man standing opposite his desk, Owen had been following his son's case and the evidence looked damming. At first the Admiral believed everything he'd read, but then Tom had not approached his father for help since the day he'd entered the academy. Admiral Owen Paris was wavering in his opinion. He'd never known his son to fight so hard and continue to decry his innocence.
"I'm not going to lie to you, son, your Court Marshal is all but a forgone conclusion at this point in time with the evidence against you. A team of thirty engineers have all agreed that the shuttle's service history was impeccable. There's no way those thrusters engaged from anywhere but helm control," Owen stated neutrally, once again observing Tom's reaction. "Then there's the fact you weren't on duty at the time."
"I explained that," the young man threw himself into the nearest chair in his father's office. "I served with Jasson, Milik and Watson on Exeter for two years. We all knew each other well and considered ourselves friends. We had permission from the Captain to play in the Parrises Square torment on Caldik Prime representing Starfleet and the ship. We took a shuttle instead of beaming down so we'd have somewhere to stay."
"The question tomorrow will be how you were the only one to survive?" Owen frowned. "The inference will be made that you had time to brace for impact while the three passengers weren't so lucky."
"I didn't have time to warn them, when the aft thruster failed and the shield integrity buckled," Tom cried, standing to pace. Sighing, he finally deflated. "I know it doesn't look good, Dad. I didn't do this. I have proof but if I submit it to the Board of Enquiry, a First Class Cadet will probably lose any chance of graduating."
"What the hell are you talking about, Tom?" Owen demanded, eyeing his son suspiciously.
Handing his father the PADD, he gave the older man time to read the report. Eyes glued to the data scrolling down the surface, the Admiral's colour drained from his face. He understood his son's reason for keeping this private until there was no other recourse. The Cadet would be expelled for sharing her findings. She'd been ordered to destroy her report, and not to contact Lt. Thomas Paris with the results. She'd ignored both directions.
"When?" Owen demanded.
"About a week after the official investigation commenced," Tom responded mournfully. "She passed the PADD to me when I was allowed to view the wreckage. I though if a cadet could find enough evidence to clear my name, then a team of Starfleet Engineers would do the same."
Grunting, Admiral Paris called up the Cadets academic record. Cadet First Class B'Elanna Torres, equal parts disciplinary nightmare and academically brilliant, had been included on the thirty person investigation team as part of her final Engineering project specialising in propulsion's systems. Torres unique methods uncovered the micro fractures in the aft thruster assembly that would have gone unnoticed until the shuttle was caught in a vortex. She'd taken her complete findings to her academic advisor. Receiving praise for her unique insight, and passing with honours, the team ignored her results, blaming the pilot for the crash. Finally she approached Vice Admiral Patterson with her data and had been ordered to keep her mouth firmly closed.
Reaching for his com, Admiral Paris contacted his long time associate and friend. "I need to see you, Theo. ASAP."
"My office at R and D, five minutes," Patterson responded in a terse tone. With Paris's son currently under arrest for lying about a shuttle crash, it didn't take Theo long to understand the reason for the call. The fact his department had headed up the investigation didn't help. Sighing, the man knew what was coming and had his aid make several calls.
Looking at each other, the Paris men arranged a site to site transport. Patterson's office was across the city, when he wasn't at the Utopia Planitia Shipyards. Approaching, a young Lieutenant greeted the party and ushered them into a private briefing room. It took several minutes for Patterson to join them.
"What's this about, Owen," Theo asked, eyeing Lt. Paris sitting beside his father, fidgeting.
"I'd like you to read this report," Owen handed over the PADD.
Nodding, Theo took the device, glanced at the text then placed it beside him on the conference table. "I know about Cadet Torres report. Owen, as a friend, I suggest you drop this. Cadet Torres will lose her career, should this come to light and she has amazing potential."
"My son is about to lose his career," Owen Paris shouted.
"Lt. Thomas Paris is about to be offered the posting of a lifetime. Taking this to your lawyer," Vice Admiral Patterson glared at the younger man, "will ensure you're locked away for years. Vicki," Theo opened a com line to his aid, "please sent in Cadet Torres and Admiral Nechayev."
Admiral Owen Paris's eyes became like saucers. His friend smirked and offered, "I suggest you say your goodbyes and leave now, Owen. You don't want to know."
"Tom," Owen held out a hand. He understood only to well. "I wish you all the best, son. I think it might be a few years before we meet a gain. In the meantime, I'm going to have to play along with your disgrace."
"Dad," Tom's face dropped as his father turned and walked out of the conference room.
"Computer," Patterson called, as two women entered, "erect a level six omega field around this room."
"Sit, Lt. Paris, Cadet Torres," Fleet Admiral Nechayev ordered. "We have a lot to get through and precious little time in which to do it."
"Tom," B'Elanna's tone broke the pilot's thoughts free from the past. "I'm on my way up to the bridge. We've just passed through some kind of coherent tetryon beam."
"Chakotay," Tom felt the currents and eddies within the plasma fields increase. "Get up here."
It took all of Paris's concentration to keep the ship on an even keel. He needed to keep his focus on piloting, the atmospheric events were becoming more severe and unpredictable. Added to that, the proximity alarm started.
"Great," Tom sighed, noting Voyager had not only entered the Badlands in pursuit, but was currently gaining on them.
"I see it," B'Elanna slipped into the seat beside the overwhelmed pilot. "Voyagers two hundred thousand kilometre's off our stern. There's an event the same distance off the bow but I can't get a reading on it."
"Source?" Chakotay demanded as he took his position. The atmosphere in the cockpit changed as suddenly as the situation.
"Unknown," Torres fired back, her fingers dancing just as quickly as Tom's over the console before her.
"There appears to be a massive displacement wave moving toward us," Paris shouted moments before impact. The screen turned white, Val Jean's stabilisers failed and the small raider was tossed on the leading edge of the shock wave like flotsam in a hurricane.
"Another storm?" Chakotay was the first to recover. He'd been thrown from his seat and was slowly making his way back to his position.
"I," B'Elanna's tone and expression oozed fear, which drew the attention of her shipmates. The Klingon never felt fright. "I think we're a long way from home."
Before Chakotaty or Paris could react, they were swept up in the whine of a transporter beam.
Let me know wat you think.