"Kathryn! This is a surprise! Come on in, we're all out back on the deck. Owen was about to put steaks on the grill for dinner. Do you want one?" Alicia Paris asked as she led the Starfleet captain through the house toward the back door. "By the way, how is your mother doing? I keep meaning to have lunch with her, but something always comes up with one of us before we can ever sit down and actually make plans."
"She's doing well," Kathryn Janeway replied with a grin, marveling at how well Alicia was handling the impromptu visitor. Then again, that was very Alicia Paris; Janeway didn't know if anything could catch her off-guard or ruffle her feathers. It was a requirement of the unofficial club of the wives of Starfleet admirals, a club Gretchen Janeway could also claim membership in. "She's keeping busy with the grandkids."
"Ah, yes, a feeling I know well," Alicia said with a laugh as they stepped out onto the deck. "You have a niece and a nephew, right?"
"Yes, they're four and almost one, and quite a handful. I think my sister brings them to my mother's just to give herself a break."
"Another feeling I know well," Alicia said, laughing again. "Speaking of which, Lissy and her family is here, and so is Tom." She chuckled. "I can't figure out which is more of a handful—the grandkids or Tom."
Janeway suddenly realized that she was interrupting a Paris family gathering, and doing so to talk to business. Alicia had always been very strict about leaving Starfleet at the office, a rule Janeway knew Owen Paris broke regularly as the kids were growing up, drilling Starfleet protocols and stories of first contacts into their heads—with that kind of pressure, it was no wonder all three joined Starfleet. Still, it was one thing for him to break the rules in his own house, another entirely for someone to come in and do so. "I really didn't mean to interrupt—," Janeway began.
"Don't worry about it," Alicia said, waving off the thought. "But I'm only going to forgive you for talking shop with my husband if you stay for dinner. It's been far too long since we've seen you."
"I've been busy," Janeway protested with a laugh, knowing that that excuse wouldn't get her far with Alicia. Sure enough, the older woman only shook her head slightly in response, but let it drop.
The Paris family hadn't changed the deck much since the last time Janeway visited, which she was sad to admit, had been more than five years before. She had just accepted her first command, and the admiral had invited his former protégé over for a celebratory dinner and to offer suggestions, which Alicia had quickly put an end to, reminding her husband that after all her training, Kathryn was more than capable of figuring things out for herself.
The deck hadn't changed, but the people had. When she was there last, it had just been the newly promoted captain, the admiral, and his wife. Now, Admiral Paris was standing at the grill, and in the backyard, a young man seemed to be playing a game of soccer with three kids. With a start, Janeway realized that it must be Tom. She didn't think she had seen the admiral's only son since he was eight, when he briefly came aboard the Al-Batani, back when she was a junior science officer. He had been a tow-headed little brat, managing to get in trouble within the few short hours he was there—until his father instructed one of the junior pilots to teach him about helm controls. After he left, the elder Paris had boasted his son's abilities, saying that he was a natural pilot, already capable of controlling an S-type shuttle. Almost twenty years later, the boy still had the blond hair and blue eyes that seemed to be a requirement in the Paris family, along with a tall, slender build and easy grace that he had gotten from his mother. Janeway remembered attending a roast in honor of Fleet Admiral Joshua Paris' retirement as her father's "date" when she was a lieutenant junior grade. One of the other admirals had joked that there were only three requirements to being a Paris—unbelievable talent, an almost unhealthy dose of ambition, and stunning good looks. From what she knew and saw, the younger Paris had at least two of the three qualifications.
"Kathryn," Admiral Owen Paris said in surprise when he looked up from the grill. Janeway pulled her eyes from the small game of soccer to her former mentor and smiled slightly.
"Sorry to barge in on you, Admiral," she said. "I didn't realize it would be a family night."
He waved off her concerns, just as his wife had. "It's nothing. Lissy and Jeremy have leave this week, and Tom came in from Utopia Planitia for the night to see them. Are you staying for dinner?"
"Alicia already informed me that I wouldn't be forgiven if I didn't," Janeway replied with a laugh. "And I take my steak medium well."
He smiled slightly before looking up at her again. "I read Captain Yosting's report," he said, his expression serious. "I think I know why you're here. Let's save it for after dinner."
She nodded. Captain William Yosting was Lt. Tuvok's contact at Starfleet Intelligence. It was Paris who taught Janeway about protecting her crew; she wouldn't need to explain what she wanted to do to him. She accepted a beer--in a bottle, which prompted a raised eyebrow from the captain and shrug from the admiral's wife--from Alicia before she took a seat on a lounge chair.
"Kathryn Janeway?" Janeway turned her head toward the woman's voice. There was no mistaking Dr. Elisabeth Houston; she was practically a carbon copy of her mother with her tall and slender build and platinum blond hair, fair skin, and pale blue eyes. "It's been, what, sixteen years?"
Janeway smiled slightly at the memory. Elisabeth had been a senior near the top of her class at Starfleet Preparatory Academy, one of the top secondary schools in the Federation and Janeway's alma mater. She hadn't wanted to go to the Academy, and in efforts to convince her, her father sent her to talk to Lt. Janeway in hopes that his protégé would be able to change her mind. Whatever advice the young science officer had to give must have fallen on deaf ears; despite having a position at Starfleet Academy secured, Elisabeth snuck out of the house in the middle of night shortly after graduating from secondary school and ended up enlisting in Starfleet as a medic after a few months of tending bar in Marseilles, France. "I heard you eventually made it to medical school," Janeway commented.
Dr. Houston grinned. "Three years as a medic, four years as a nursing student, three years as a nurse, four years of medical school, and now I've been a doctor for a year. Not exactly the typical route, but typical just seemed so boring. Oh, and somewhere along the way, I latched onto this guy."
"Hi, I'm Jeremy Houston," the tall dark-haired man with her offered, holding out his hand. Apparently the rule of Parises being attractive applied to those they married as well.
"Kathryn Janeway," the captain replied, shaking his hand. "I'm a friend of the family."
"Linssay, you've got to be more aggressive with the ball," Elisabeth called out in the direction of the soccer game. "Don't be afraid to kick his ankles if you have to."
The blond adolescent glanced quickly over at her mother before returning her attention to the ball. She managed to free it from her uncle's feet and sent it soaring between two of the apple trees, what they had apparently been using as a goal. "I already bruised his ego," Linssay replied with a smirk. "I think that's the only part of Tom you can hurt, anyway."
"You're going to let your daughter talk like that, Lissy?" Tom protested as he picked up a small brunette girl and hefted her over his shoulder, resulting in squeals of delight.
"Who do you think taught her?" Jeremy asked dryly. "Kids, go in and get washed up, it's almost time for dinner."
"That's quite the family you have," Janeway commented as she watched the three kids run into the house.
Jeremy Houston rolled his eyes. "Quite the handful, you mean. They're trouble, the whole lot. They're all Paris."
"You aren't exactly all that mild-mannered, yourself," Elisabeth shot back with a grin. "Enough of this trying to figure out what personality traits came from what side of the family. Let's eat."
---
"Okay, Kathryn," Admiral Owen Paris finally said after the last of the dishes had been cleared away. "You've been very patient. It must be killing you. I know how you get when you have something to say."
She smiled as she took a sip of the coffee Alicia had gotten for her. She remembered how she was when she was an ensign aboard the Al-Batani; in many ways, she hadn't changed. "Tuvok wouldn't miss a check-in, not if he could help it. He's one of the best tactical officers I've ever met. I wouldn't be surprised if I heard he composed some of those messages with Chakotay watching over his shoulder and not suspecting a thing." She leaned forward slightly. "I know he's in trouble, Admiral. We have to get him out."
"What do you have in mind?" Paris asked with a frown. "We don't have much to go on."
She took a deep breath. This was the time to make her pitch, and she had to make it well; Admiral Owen Paris expected the best. "I want to move up Voyager's launch date," she stated. "It's the only ship in the fleet that can handle the plasma storms in the Badlands. It's smaller, faster, and more maneuverable. I talked to Commander Washington with R&D, and he says the ship can be ready for launch in a week."
"A week?" Lt. Tom Paris interrupted from his relaxed position on a deck chair. He used his beer bottle to tip up the hat that had slipped over his eyes. Janeway saw the edges of bright blue eyes study her skeptically. "No offense, Captain, but you're delusional. We're barely able to get the bio-neural circuitry talking to the warp core, and the response times from the navigational array are sketchy at best." He shook his head emphatically. "Quite frankly, I'd be considering us doing well if we had get all the wrinkles smoothed out by the projected launch date."
Janeway raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I wasn't aware you were that familiar with Voyager's systems."
"Tom works for R&D," Admiral Paris stated. "He's a test pilot, been working on the Voyager project since its beginning. In fact, he's scheduled to take the ship on her shakedown cruise."
Janeway smiled slightly. "Well, then, Mr. Paris, it looks like you're going to be taking her for a spin sooner than anticipated. Commander Washington has assured that he's putting Starfleet's best engineers on the project."
Tom tilted his head slightly and shrugged a shoulder before returning to his casual posture, his hat again slipping over his eyes. "Well, I've never known Washington to be wrong, so if he says a week, it'll be a week." He took a long pull from his beer. "Does this mean you're canceling the shakedown cruise?"
She shook her head. "No, we'll just be combining it with this first mission. If you can handle the Badlands, Mr. Paris, you're more than welcome to join us."
He chuckled. "Captain, I flew more difficult courses when I was still in high school. I used to compete in stunt flying. I have no problems with the Badlands."
"I'm glad to hear it," she replied with a slight smirk. The attitude hadn't changed since he was eight years old. She turned back to his father. "We have a ship that can handle the Badlands, and a pilot," she gestured slightly toward Tom. "The only problem is, the Badlands is a fairly large stretch of space and we'll be flying blind without sensors, and we have no idea where Chakotay and his cell could be. In the time that Tuvok was with the cell, he wasn't able to identify a set base of operations. He said that there were several moons and planetoids that they would use to regroup and repair, but he couldn't see a pattern to which one would be used next. Even if we limited ourselves to the places that Tuvok reported, we could be searching for months." She sighed slightly. "We have some information from the Cardassians, but not much. In fact, they're claiming that they drove Chakotay's ship into a plasma storm and it was destroyed. I don't know what we can trust from them."
Admiral Paris shook his head slightly. "I wish I knew what to tell you, Kathryn. I've been over some of that data—not much, the Cardassians and Maquis aren't my area of expertise—but from what I can see, we're not going on much. That's why it was so vital for Lt. Tuvok to infiltrate the cell in the first place."
"What about a guide?" Tom chimed in again. He had abandoned both the lounging posture and the hat and was leaning forward in anticipation. Janeway could practically see the wheels inside his head turning.
"A guide?" his father asked dubiously.
Tom rolled his eyes at his father before turning back to Captain Janeway. "Someone who knows the Badlands, has been with Chakotay and knows where he hides out."
"Mr. Paris, the reason we sent Lt. Tuvok to infiltrate Chakotay's cell is that we don't have anyone who knows the Badlands or knows where Chakotay 'hides out'," Janeway explained patiently.
"What about someone who used to be with the cell?"
Janeway shook her head again. "There isn't anybody. Tuvok is the first to successfully gain Chakotay's loyalty, and nobody has ever defected. In fact, I'm not aware of anyone who has ever defected to the Federation from any Maquis cell."
"What about people you've captured?" Tom countered.
His father knew where he was going. "Tom," he said with a warning tone.
"No, it could work," he said quickly. He turned back to the captain. "I know that you have at least one former Starfleet officer from Chakotay's cell at Auckland. He was with them for months, from the beginning of the movement; he had Chakotay's trust, and he flew through the Badlands on a regular basis. He knows the hiding places better than anyone."
"You seem to know a good deal about this former officer," Janeway observed.
"I should," the younger Paris countered. "He was my roommate at the Academy."
"Tom, you know Ryan's not going to agree to this," his father argued with a slight shake of his head.
"He will, if you present it right." He turned back to the captain, his eyes bright with excitement. "Ryan Addison can be your answer, Captain, as long as you're asking the right questions."