Book Four: Nuclear Winter (1/4)
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The next day...
They stood out of port at noon and slipped away, moving toward open space. Chakotay sat in the command chair watching his crew move smoothly through their paces. Tuvok was at tactical, Harry Kim at Ops, Tom sat at the conn and B'Elanna was at engineering.
Other people worked at stations and Greg Ayala stood nearby watching the screen as they began their first Maquis mission. They moved into place and with a soft affirmative, Chakotay gave the okay to leap to warp.
They moved forward and the stars bled white, moving back into perspective once they achieved warp. Chakotay noted the information streaming by on the screen next to him and then he rose and walked to the tactical station to stand next to Tuvok.
The Vulcan's hands moved as he did his job, watching the ship build to warp six. Once it was achieved, they turned to each other.
"Have you heard yet?"
"No," Tuvok said, shaking his head. "The news net is slow and we'll have to wait."
Chakotay nodded and sighed. "Well, we'll take this boat out and give the crew a shakedown. Then we'll start working out the details of what we have to do for our people."
Tuvok nodded and looked at him. "I'm with you on whatever
expedition we undertake."
"I wouldn't have it any other way, Tuvok," Chakotay said with equal conviction.
He turned and walked to the barrier, placing his hands on the curving rail. He stared at the conn watching Tom as he worked through the flight plan, implementing and controlling the colossal energies that collided in the great ship. With modifications, some stolen from Star Fleet and others developed by sympathetic engineers and their own people the shields of Voyager were much stronger than before.
Even though they had been away seven years the technology of Voyager had become cutting edge on its own. Enhancements and adaptations had been made over the years. The most important change supplemented their own technology with other aliens', most notably the Borg.
They were powerful, sleek, fast and deadly. Even with her age and hard traveled wear and tear, Voyager was a formidable ship. Chakotay turned and walked to his chair, sitting. As he did the
com system called him. "Captain Chakotay, please report to Astrometrics."
"On my way," Chakotay said, rising and walking for the lift.
Tom turned in his chair and watched him go, noting his ease and economy of movement. It appeared that command fit the big man like a glove. He turned and continued his flying even as events of the night before flooded back into his mind. It had been late, he didn't want to go home to a cold spouse and his growing anguish over what appeared to be a split he couldn't figure out how to traverse.
He had two beers at Sandrine's, the liquor tasteless to him in his distress. Not that many years before, he would have wallowed in booze, drinking himself stupid and finding someone to fuck him. But that was then. This was now. He had wandered aimlessly, moving from deck to deck, walking down empty corridors, the crew either asleep, working or planet side. He had stopped before Chakotay's cabin, hesitating about going in. In the end he hadn't, the acute awareness of Tabor of Bajor weighing like lead on his mind.
Turning, he had done the next best thing. He had called for the whereabouts of Nayib, the glib, handsome, inspirational brother of the man who commanded and mystified him at the same time, Chakotay.
Chakotay...
/... Did you know that Chakotay is in love with you?.../
"Nayib of Dorvan V is in the Mess Hall."
The computer's feminine voice showed him the way to hell with its conveniently straight lines and he took it, walking there with rising desperation and trepidation. His old side, the part of him that self-destructed had wormed its away to the surface, fueled by beer and emotional neediness. He cursed himself as he stood in the doorway, noting the big muscular handsome man sitting by the window sipping coffee as he ate his pie. A late nighter with his brother had kept him here and he had grabbed a bite before returning to his apartment in the city below.
Tom stared at him, watching Nayib as he sat unaware of his scrutiny. He was certainly handsome, older but younger in some ways than Chakotay, his manner lighter and less ... serene? Tom speculated on the difference, noting the way a person could look like another and not be like them at all.
It rather mirrored his flailing marriage. He had loved a person and they turned out to be someone else entirely. How that could be he didn't know. How it could be fixed, he wasn't sure. He just knew that he couldn't go home and face the void right now.
/... Reverting to the old run and hide personality defect are you, Paris? .../
He sighed and cleared his mind, gathering his guts together. He walked over hesitantly but determinedly. Pausing by Nayib's table, he nodded. "Hi."
Nayib looked up surprised and then pleased. "Hi."
Tom just stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. Nayib rose with concern, standing and watching the turmoil rolling across the younger man's face and then slowly Tom stepped forward and slipped his arms around Nayib's neck. Nayib hesitated and then returned the embrace, holding Tom tightly.
They stood together in the dim light of the stars outside and then Tom stepped back, looking at him with wretched eyes."I want to talk to you."
Nayib nodded and looked at his table. He decided someone else could clean up after him so he nodded again at Tom and they turned, walking through the darkened room and out into the corridor. As they did Neelix shut down the last switch in the kitchen and stepped out, staring after them. He turned and gathered Nayib's dishes walking to the recycler. He dumped them and then with a troubled expression on his face he turned and walked out of the room to go to bed.
**********Five minutes later...
They entered the lounge, Tom pausing as Nayib walked past him, his own mind still in turmoil. Nayib turned around, his serious face a mirror of Chakotay's. He waited silently as Tom struggled with his thoughts. The younger man was tense and upset, at war with an internal battle that he appeared to be losing. Finally, with a deep sigh, he stepped forward, pausing before Nayib, their chests almost touching. "Did you mean it? When you said you wanted me once?"
Nayib listened and then slightly relaxed. "Yes, I did. What's wrong?"
Tom turned and shook his head, his thoughts careening around the pain that formed the central locus of his brain. "When I was in the Maquis the first time, I had come off a rough time. When things would go wrong I would get drunk and get laid. It didn't matter who it was really. It could be anybody, man or woman, alien or human. I've had sex with all kinds of aliens, Nayib. Klingons, humans, fuck ... I even slept with an Andorian."
Nayib nodded, nothing of the humor of that arrangement coming to his lips. He watched Tom, the pain on his face and he worried. "Go on, Tom. What's wrong?"
"It was always my refuge, getting drunk and fucking until I couldn't think. It took some of the guilt and the ... the responsibility away, dulling the edge. Do you understand?"
Nayib nodded. "Sure. I do."
Tom regarded him and nodded too. "I think you do." He sighed deeply and walked closer. "I don't know what I'm going to do. B'Elanna might as well be a stranger. She doesn't seem to *need* me. I thought ... I thought ..." He turned, biting his lip for a moment. "I thought this was real, the big one, you know?" He turned and looked at Nayib, who nodded, his face filled with compassion. "Something's changed since we came back, since that fucking Vedek changed everyone. She just hasn't got any ... *room* for me anymore. I don't know what to do."
"You talked to her?" Nayib asked gently.
"Yeah, if you call it that. Tonight. I ... she told me not to make her choose. She didn't want to choose between her and me ... between us and the Maquis."
Nayib stepped closer, touching Tom's arm. The younger man spun and slipped his hands behind Nayib's neck, leaning in and kissing him with passion, desperation and need. Nayib stood a moment as still as a statue and then he raised his hands to Tom's arms, gently breaking his grip and the kiss. Tom stepped back turning away as he felt tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Don't be," Nayib said, his voice strong with conviction.
Tom turned and looked at him, seeking in his face some kind of answer, some kind of understanding.
"I've wanted to do that for years, Paris," Nayib said, a slight grin crossing his face.
"I want to be with you. I want you to be with me. I want to crawl into you and not have to think."
"I want to fuck you but it wouldn't be good. You know that and I know that."
"No one would know. We could say I was drunk. It wouldn't be as if anyone would *question that statement*," he said, turning away, his hands resting on his hips in dejection. He hung his head, his pain welling up into his chest, making it tight.
Nayib watched him and then stepped forward, resting his hands on Tom's shoulders.
"Hey," he said softly. "You aren't that kid eight and a half years ago that was spoiling for a fight and someone to love him at the same time. You've changed. You aren't a drunk and you aren't a whore. You're a man with lots to recommend himself."
"Yeah, *right*." Tom turned and looked at him, shaking his head. "I just propositioned the brother of the man who is supposed to love me, all the while being married to the woman that's practically his daughter. Good man, that's me."
Nayib shook his head. "You're a real bastard, did you know that?"
Tom blinked and stepped back.
"You're good looking and you threw yourself at me. Frankly, if it were any other time and any other place I'd bang you through the floor and then I'd marry you. But that's not to be. So let's look at this sensibly shall we?"
Tom rubbed his face but he stood still, even when Nayib's hands came to rest on his waist and his red lips were that close to his own. Tom sighed and closed his eyes in defeat. "All right, sensible. You kick it off. I'm not noted for being very sensible myself."
Nayib smiled broadly. "I don't know. You stayed with us. That's pretty smart."
Tom smiled wryly. "The jury is still out on that one."
Nayib smiled, an eerie imitation of someone else he knew. "You have a changed situation with B'Elanna but going back to the old ways is not the solution. It won't even give you solace. If I fuck you, I have to face Chakotay some day. He loves you and frankly, I would never be able to reconcile this in my mind, *I don't think* even if he never found out. You're a married man and until that changes, you're off limits. Really, you've always been off limits to me. All because of Chakotay."
Tom shook his head, a pained smirk on his face. He turned and stepped away, facing the door silently and then he turned back.
"It's a fucked universe when I marry the one I thought I had and don't have and the one I didn't have and could have can't have me but wants me."
"That makes sense, in some kind of nonsensical way," Nayib said, turning and tossing some pillows to one end of the couch. "I take it you either can't or won't go home?"
"I can't."
"Very well," Nayib said, stretching out on the couch. He held up an arm. "Climb on."
Tom stared at him and then the trademark smirk made its appearance. "You have no idea of the picture that crossed my mind just now."
"I do. You, naked, riding me. Am I close?"
Tom snorted and smiled, shaking his head. "How can you look so much like Chakotay and be so different, so ... so ..."
"Raunchy?"
"Yeah. How?"
"Come here and stretch out. I'll tell you about Maris."
Tom sighed and moved to the couch, laying carefully down into Nayib's body. He relaxed, comfortable. Nayib was more muscular, more developed from doing arduous work than Chakotay and Tom rested his hand on one of the older man's well-shaped pectorals. The solid beating of his heart, Tom could feel. It felt comforting.
"Do you do this often?" Tom asked, sighing as he relaxed.
"I did for Chakotay, when he was little and upset. I also had a lot of experience sleeping on the couch when I was living with Maris."
"He sounds like quite a man," Tom proffered, settling in to listen to a rollicking tale.
"He was. He was tall and blond, had green eyes and a foul mouth. He was absolutely the most dedicated bottom that I have ever seen. I've never seen anyone who liked getting it in the ass as much as him."
"Sort of sorts out the roles in the relationship," Tom said, grinning in spite of himself.
"Well, it sort of meant that I didn't have to worry about suppositories." He snorted. "I love fucking but the upkeep stuff is a pain in the ass. I hunt out bottoms but this guy, he didn't seem like the type to want it that much, at least on the surface and so I took a chance and hit he jackpot. We had a very wild time and then he left. It sort of blew me out of the water. It rather dented my confidence if you know what I mean."
"Didn't he tell you he was going?"
"No," Nayib said, musing on the past even as he absently rubbed Tom's neck. "He just packed up his stuff and left. I read his note. He told me that he wanted more. Can you believe it?"
"Sure. I can believe anything anymore," Tom agreed sighing.
"So, basically, I'm left to play the field. Unfortunately, you're both married and my little brother's favorite jerk off fantasy."
Tom snorted and sighed. "You're delightfully crude. Did you know that?"
"By product of living with Maris. Klingons are such animals sometimes."
"Maris was a *Klingon*?" Tom asked, raising his head and looking down at Nayib.
"Didn't I tell you?" He grinned. "His mother was human and his father was a Klingon. I think he's the only blond haired Klingon in existence. God, what a man."
Tom smiled brightly. "Let me get this straight. You found a blond-haired, green-eyed half Klingon who was a ... a *bottom*?"
"Amazing isn't it. It sort of drew me to him. I *had* to see this for myself. I still don't get it myself."
Tom settled back down, sighing deeply. "You're a piece of work, Nayib."
"My mother thinks so," he said, pleased that Tom felt better.
"Sleep. Tomorrow you have to go. You need your sleep."
Tom was silent for a moment and then he sighed. "Thanks, Nayib, for everything."
"Don't mention it," he said, filled with rueful regret. "Merely a service I provide."
They were quiet a moment and then Tom had to ask. "You seeing anyone now?"
He grinned. "No one in particular. However ..."
"Yes?" Tom asked, waiting expectantly.
"I'm sort of in lust with Tabor."
For a moment they just lay together and then Tom laughed. Looking down into Nayib's face, he grinned.
"Birds of a feather?" Tom asked, settling back down again.
"Identical twins from the sound of us," Nayib said, grinning. "Computer, cut the lights and put a security lock on the door."
"Affirmative. Complying."
The computer sounded off and they lay together silently. Finally, slowly, Tom drifted off, the hypnotic rhythm of Nayib's hand rubbing his back gently the ticket to oblivion he sought.
For Nayib, it would take longer...
Tom sighed and looked up at the screen again. It was filled with stars and the path to others was straight and true. He had avoided temptation last night, a place to hide his pain. When he arrived in the morning to shower, change and eat, B'Elanna was already gone. Behind him, the crew worked efficiently. Ahead of him, a mission of mercy awaited. What lay in the here and now, he couldn't make a single solitary guess.
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Book Four: Nuclear Winter (2/4)
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Rendezvous point...
They waited as three ships slipped from the small planet and rose through the atmosphere to space beyond. Chakotay watched as they fell into a running formation and then he nodded to Tom, who sat watching him for the signal. They looked at each other for a moment and then Tom nodded back, turning and beginning their journey.
Chakotay suppressed a sigh, noting for the thousandth time that the universe had a strange sense of humor. He would have to sit behind the one unattainable thing in the entire course of his life that would make him happy and he would never be able to touch.
Happy ... were they? Tom and B'Elanna?
He wondered about the two of them. They didn't look connected. From the first time he noted her chill, he had a sense of unease. He had talked to Tuvok, asking him what could account for her different behavior. None of the other Maquis awakened to the Vedek's call had forsaken their present so completely as her.
Tuvok had thought about it, remembering the frame of mind she had been in. "She had a dark frame of mind in those days, filled with anger and loneliness. She was ... filled with the desire for vengeance when the news of the supposedly slaughter was received by you. Those are very strong emotions, Captain, betrayal and revenge. When the Vedek's message was received, it was overlain, if you will, on top of that framework. My guess is, and it is only a guess, Lt. Torres is more Maquis than 'Fleet in her emotional state and sense of identification due to the power of her feelings and the loyalty she gives, and gave, to the Cause."
"What about her feelings for ... say Tom? They seem to be ... different." He paused, carefully composing himself. "I worry that things are impaired between them over this."
Tuvok considered his words, his mind filling with images of B'Elanna and Chakotay together. He was very aware of their close relationship and his feelings for her. He knew that Chakotay felt a sense of emotional responsibility for her and that he had intervened when she was in the process of self-destruction over the news that the Maquis and all her friends, her base for her spirit had been destroyed.
"I have noticed ... changes myself," Tuvok said, considering his own words. "Knowing what I know of her, the conditioning that she underwent with all of us apparently and the depth of her despair when she believed that everyone and the Cause was lost I would say that her feelings would be more directly drawn to the Maquis than say, other less intense and long-lasting involvements, including perhaps even Mr. Paris."
Chakotay felt a mix of emotions at the speculation. He sighed deeply. "Is there anything you can do for her? Perhaps modify this or lessen the intensity of the Vedek?"
Tuvok considered this for a moment. "I am barely able to contain myself, keeping the focus on the here and now, Captain, even with meditation and mental discipline. We have all been changed, for the better or the worse. I don't know what I can do to make that right. Maybe when the conflict is over we can all resume a more normal mental and emotional existence."
Chakotay nodded and left, walking for hours around the ship as he considered what to do. It didn't look good to him and by the time he headed for the Bridge, he made up his mind to talk to her himself. "Captain, we're receiving a message from across the
DMZ."
"Shields up and arm weapons," Chakotay said, standard practice for Maquis in harms way. "Send it through."
The screen crackled as a message from a great distance materialized on the screen. A familiar face peered at them, a Bajoran face. "Maquis ship, this is the Federation battle cruiser, Defiant. Identify yourself."
Chakotay stared at Kira Nerys, noting her familiar features. It had been a long time since he had seen her striding along the promenade at Deep Space Nine, himself present due to an arms sale he was concluding.
"Defiant, we are on a mission of mercy escorting refugees to safety. Stand back and don't interfere," he said, glancing at Tuvok. A hard look was on Tuvok's face and he knew that the Vulcan was determined to protect the mission that mattered most to him, the rescue of his son even against this moment.
He glanced at Chakotay. "Phasers are armed and ready."
Chakotay nodded and rose, walking to the conn. "We're armed and ready to fight. Frankly, I don't think you want to cross the DMZ and enter our space. Not only do I think you want to endanger innocent civilians but I don't think you want a shoot out with us, Commander."
Her face was hard and she stared at him a long time. "You're a criminal. You will not prevail, Captain."
"The Bajorans on board this ship might think otherwise," Chakotay countered, noting her expression shift. "Some of them think that it's collaboration to fight with the Federation in light of what happened to Bajor. Of course, I'm sure you've justified your participation in your own way, *Commander*."
Hard emotion crossed her face and she stared at him with cold eyes. "Don't cross the line, Captain. We'll be waiting for you."
"And we'll be ready," Chakotay said, equally coldly.
"Cut transmission, Harry."
The screen returned to star fields and Chakotay turned walking to his seat. The room was quiet, each going about their business and soon they had crossed away from radio range with the other side. It would be two hours until they could cut the convoy loose, so deep would they be in their own territory. They would continue on to a big camp that was being built, stocked and protected by the Maquis inside their own space. It was the best the refugees could hope for until hostilities ceased, whatever fine day that would be.
**********In the Mess Hall...
Neelix sorted the trays out, getting them ready for the lunch time rush. Even though they didn't ration anymore, the crew still gathered for their meals in large part in the Mess Hall, Janeway's old private dining room. He turned and walked to his cooking pots, checking them. He hadn't slept well the night before, the image of Tom and Nayib weighing heavily on his mind.
/... I need you .../
Tom had hugged the older man, declaring his need for him and they had left together. Where had they gone? What had they done? He didn't know and he felt uneasy speculating on it. Pictures of them together invaded his peace of mind and he shoved them back, unwilling to believe that Tom Paris would cheat on his wife.
They were in love, so much so it had modified them, making them easy and more mellow with each other and the life around them. It had been a good thing, the two marrying, he thought and he couldn't begin to conceive of there being trouble in that pairing. But there obviously was. Tom had clung to Nayib and the big man had embraced him back. Tom was emotional and clearly needy. It bothered Neelix deeply.
"Is there any coffee, Neelix?" a crewman asked, a Maquis that had been assigned to the ship, Crewman Daggott or something.
Neelix fixed a smile on his face and turned, welcoming the distraction.
"Why of course there is," he said, bustling to find a cup for the Bolian.
**********Elsewhere...
Kathryn Janeway stood on the porch of her mother's house and noted the familiar landscape all around her. The blue sky above was ancestral and the air she breathed that of home. Yet she wasn't rested. She was filled with emotions that surged and warred with her, filling her with a decidely uneasy spirit. Her mother had welcomed her, agreeing to the secrecy of her return. No one from Voyager would be allowed to tell that they had returned, so serious was the loss of Voyager to the Federation. She had agreed, feeling strangely ambivolent about everything and had gone to her mother's house to rest for two weeks. Soon she would go to San Francisco, entering into the intelligence apparatus to learn her new part in the macabre dance that return had become. Soon she would get a new ship and a new mandate. She knew what it was, this new role she would play. She knew what they wanted her to do. They wanted her to find Voyager and get it back. They wanted her to capture the Maquis criminal,
Chakotay.
How life found a way of biting you on the ass, she thought, her sense of the fullness of things rising. We're back to where we began once again. With a sigh, she turned and walked back inside.
**********Along the DMZ...
Kira Nerys sat in the command chair, pondering her encounter with the elusive ghost of Voyager. The ship had become fabled in the Federation, a lone star ship, battling its way back to Earth. The people who had to deal with her knew about her existence but no one else did. They all existed under the stringent rules of martial law out here and news was ever sent that didn't have the censor's mark all over it.
Newsmen were held to demanding rules and no one dared violate them. The penalty was imprisonment and very few were unaware of the severity of the military courts that ruled their existence out here. She considered the man she had seen, a man with a reputation of cunning and stamina. They referred to him in many ways but the ones that seemed to fit him were fox and bear. He was smart and strong, never caught in the war and now that he had returned he had taken a star ship. No small step, that.
Behind her, leaning against the doorjamb, Julian Bashir reflected on their situation. They would surely in future have to deal with Chakotay and the renegade Voyager, whatever they called it now. Word along the rim was they were using Voyager's signature when they needed to but it was called by another name, a familiar name to Federation security, Crazy Horse.
Crazy like a fox, she thought as they turned and made their way back to their original course.
**********On Voyager...
He sat watching the screen when the message came in. Glancing back as Tuvok took it, he waited expectantly. The Bridge was quiet and efficient, everyone doing their job at their usual level of great ability. Tuvok looked up and nodded at Chakotay, watching as he rose and turned to the conn.
"Mr. Paris, the Conference Room." He glanced over his shoulder. "Tuvok, Harry and B'Elanna, you too. Chakotay to Seven of Nine and the Doctor."
They acknowledged him.
"Report to the Conference Room immediately."
They acknowledged him again and he turned, following his staff even as other crew shifted to take their vacated positions. They filed in, taking their same seats and waited for Seven and the EMH. Chakotay and Tuvok stood by the window conversing and then Tuvok sat. Seven and the Doc entered, walking and sitting and they all waited, watching Chakotay by the window.
He turned, his face a mask of anger and sat, smoldering rage emanating off of him like smoke from a fire. He sat a moment and then he spoke. "We have been awaiting word from an operative in the Federation before mentioning this to you. We had to be sure. Tuvok?"
Tuvok nodded and leaned forward on his elbows. "Our man in the Federation Security apparatus has confirmed for us that our colleagues, the Star Fleet personnel that didn't stay, including Samantha and Naomi Wildman were taken off their ship in shackles and incarcerated at the top secret Maquis prison that was constructed at a historic air base outside of Rosswell, New Mexico.
"This base, commonly referred to as Area 51 in the past, houses a secret prison for high level Maquis prisoners and their supporters. The returned crew of Voyager because of Voyager's loss to the Federation, were considered a security risk to the Federation due to the rise of a small loosely organized but tenacious and vociferous anti-war faction. Because of this, they were taken, all that is but Captain Janeway."
They sat a moment, the magnitude of what he said sinking in.
"Well, isn't *that* typical? That traiterous bitch!"
Everyone looked at B'Elanna, the rage on her face almost frightening to see. She rose and stepped away, turning slowly in a frustrated circle, her fists clenched. She turned to them, raging. "You can't trust their word! The bastards! All they know how to do is lie!"
No one spoke and then Chakotay leaned forward. "Part of the information that the Maquis has about Area 51 comes from a small cell in the anti-war movement that is known as Bataan. They sent it to us just before they were captured and taken there for incarceration."
"Bataan ..." Tom mused, looking at Chakotay with alarm. "That was a group of people during World War II that were marched to a prison camp over a trail and distance that caused wide spread death. The Bataan Death killed a lot of people and the Japanese, their brutality added more."
It was silent for a moment.
"The leader of the cell that was caught is my son, Sek," Tuvok said, his voice even and his demeanor aggressively bland.
Even Seven blinked at the news, staring from Tuvok to Chakotay, who rose and walked to the window. "One of the first prisoners placed there was a Maquis founder and member of the Revolutionary Council." He turned and looked at them, his eyes glittering. "That man is my father, Kolopak of Dorvan V."
There wasn't a sound in the room for quite a long time.
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Book Four: Nuclear Winter (3/4)
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In the forward lounge on deck four, later...
Tom stared out the window, considering the changes that had happened over the past few hours. The meeting had been bad enough but the argument that he had with B'Elanna afterward had been worse. Following her to engineering after the meeting, he entered her office and closed the door. She turned, rage still informing every line of her taut body. "I can't talk now, Tom. I'm too upset."
Tom stood there, knowing they were at a crossroads. "We have to talk. Now."
She looked at him, her eyes emotional and blazing. "About what? What is there to say? Are you going to tell me that what I feel is wrong? That it's not important or ... or *right*?"
He glanced at the floor, pausing a moment as he gathered his wits under her withering emotional assault. "No, I'm not. B'Elanna, I don't know what to do. I don't ... I want to *help* you. Please ... let me help you."
"No! What the *hell* can you say? What the *hell* can you do? Nothing is going to make this right. Nothing is going to change what I feel. I am so filled with hatred that I could just ... just die." She turned, her eyes filled with tears of rage and despair. "I want to kill them all. All of them and nothing you can say or do will take that away or make it better."
He stood there, unable to speak and then he stepped forward, reaching out for her. She shook off his arm and stepped away, wiping tears from her eyes as she did. "I would like to be alone," she said, her back to him, rigid with tension.
Tom stared at her, his heart filming over with ice. "That's your problem, B'Elanna. That's always been your problem hasn't it. You don't need anyone,. You don't need anything. Well, fine.
Don't worry about me. I'm sure Chakotay will give me back my old cabin if I ask him."
She turned and looked at him, her eyes glistening. Then, with a sad shake of his head, he turned and left the room, walking down the stairs and onward to the door beyond. She watched him go, filled with emotional turmoil but she didn't follow him. She couldn't. He was the last straw in a long line of them and she didn't have the emotion to spare. Turning, her mind numb with the accumulated hurt of days, she began to work on her part of the plan they would implement in a few days time.
**********Near the window, deck four lounge...
He swallowed unshed tears, fighting to make a level place for his heart. The encounter hadn't been long but something in him told him that there was a finality about it that hadn't been there before. She had rejected him when his only thought was to comfort her. She had rejected him. He had recoiled, filled with hurt and anger of his own. Friends of his were in prison too. She had turned from him, rejecting him. He had turned from her, electing to move from her rage to a place more neutral, his old cabin.
He had called to Chakotay, asking for permission to have his cabin and after a pause Chakotay had granted it. He had signed off, moving to the window of this room that was coming to mean comfort to him. Last night he had slept wrapped up in Nayib's body, the warmth and solidity of the older man immeasurably comforting. He had been lulled by Nayib into thinking that persistence and communication would win out over ... over whatever the hell it was turning his life upside down.
Of course, he had been a fool, a fourteen carat gold fool. All he could do was step back, moving from the furnace of his wife's hatred for life and the hand it dealt her to ... what?
Loneliness.
Aloneness.
Alone.
He was alone again, as far removed from her as if he had never met her. Maybe he could let her cool down and they could talk again. Even as he thought that he knew something this time made it all futile. He had a searingly painful feeling that this time nothing he could say would change things.
"Chakotay to Paris."
"Paris here."
"Mr. Paris, I would like to see you in my Ready Room."
"On my way."
Tom took a deep breath and turned, walking to the door. Pausing, pulling himself together, he walked out and into the corridor, heading for the lift and the Bridge that lay beyond.
**********Ready Room...
Chakotay paced, waiting for Tom to come. He had granted his request, a sense of foreboding filling him as he did. Tom and B'Elanna were no longer living together. Since the return, he had watched B'Elanna morph back into the woman she was when she first came to him. She had been emotional, fierce and more Klingon in some ways than she was before the Vedek hit them. All of her baby steps toward balance had been derailed and she was the efficient and hardheaded woman that had come to him determined to kill Cardassians and help the Maquis. She was a woman of extremes, guarded and obstinate. Never one to allow easy access, she had nevertheless grown open to some, Tom included. He had never expected them to last until marriage but his observations of them following it made him believe they would be together forever.
He had not foreseen this.
Pausing before the window, he examined things he didn't want to touch, things that pooled in his gut and made him uneasy. He was secretly glad even though it conflicted him greatly. Tom was one step closer to being free. The price was steep but he was closer to being cut loose.
He wanted to talk to him now, if the taciturn and hardheaded man would open up and see where everyone stood. This fell within his pervue as Captain. If they had anger and were feuding it could counter their teamwork, making them vulnerable. If he played his cards right, he might learn what he had to know and what he yearned to know. And even as he thought it, he felt the heat of his own shame creeping up his cheeks. The door buzzed and he turned, gathering himself. "Come."
Tom entered and paused before the desk, awkward and silent. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes," Chakotay said, stepping forward. "Sit."
"I'd rather stand," Tom said, his hands clenching and unclenching convulsively.
"Please," Chakotay said gently. "Sit."
He hesitated for a moment and then Tom turned, sitting tensely on a chair across from Chakotay's desk. Chakotay watched him and then turned to the replicator, punching in a code and taking the glasses that materialized into his hands. Turning, he walked over and gave one to Tom, sitting in the other chair, a small table between them. Tom sipped his wine and looked around. "Nice touches," he said, acknowledging the few items of Chakotay's personal belongings here and there. "You did nice things with the old place."
Chakotay almost smiled, recognizing a Tom he hadn't seen in years.
"Who are you and what have you done with Tom Paris?" he asked, noting the flash of emotion crossing Tom's face.
He stared into his glass. "Well, *that* Paris is in the scrap heap along with just about everything else that matters in this life." He took a deep swallow and looked at Chakotay. "This is good. Real."
Chakotay nodded. "We're Maquis now. No more of that synthesized Federation shit."
Tom nodded, a wry look on his face. "It tastes like pee, synthehol. Like warm pee."
"I won't ask you how you know that," Chakotay said, a slight grin on his face.
"It would amaze you what I know," Tom said, gazing back into his glass. "I'm a *fucking* genius."
Chakotay swallowed hard at the implications of his emphasis and sighed. "I'm sorry, Tom."
Tom looked up, his eyes filled with emotion that never reached his face. "I know."
They sat together a moment. Then Tom sighed.
"Your brother, Nayib ... he's quite a man."
Chakotay nodded.
"He saved my life last night. I threw myself at him. I wanted him to fuck me until my brains fell out but he wouldn't do it. I mean, he *wanted* to but he didn't."
Chakotay swallowed hard, nodding. "Why?"
"Because he said ..." Tom laughed slightly, ruefully. He looked up and met Chakotay's dark gaze. "He said that you loved me." He swallowed hard. "He said just that, you know and I thought, well isn't that something. Don't you think that's something?"
Chakotay felt his face burn with the rising of his distress and he sighed, holding his glass tightly. "It's true," he said quietly.
"Well, I wish I had *known*," Tom said, his voice filled with tears. "I wish I would have known."
They sat together quietly, neither willing to speak around the sorrow gathered in their throats. Finally Tom swallowed the wine in his glass and rose, setting it carefully on the table. "I have to go. I have to pack a few things."
"Tom, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I truly am."
Tom looked at him for the longest time and then nodded slightly. Licking his lips, he turned and walked to the door. As he got there he paused and turned, meeting Chakotay's gaze levelly. "Don't worry that I won't be able to do my job. I'll do the job, Chakotay."
"I have never doubted it, Tom," Chakotay said quietly.
Tom stood a moment and then nodded, turning and leaving silently. Chakotay watched him go, the door closing on him and then he sighed. Life sucked and then you died, he thought leaning his head back against his chair. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, weariness settling deep into his bones. He would sit there for a long time, alone.
=0=
Book Four: Nuclear Winter (4/4)
=0=
In a shipyard, far away from the DMZ...
She stared at it, noting its familiar lines, its perfect symmetry. It was so like her, yet so unlike her, Kathryn paused. She was to be piped on board, signaled into her new ship by the boson's mate and then she would command again. They had given her time to unwind and then told her of the ituation on the rim. They told her of the need for good commanders and of the need to retrieve her old ship.
Voyager was renamed, they told her. It was called the Crazy Horse. She knew its name before they even told her, aware of the small ship that had flown into an inferno so that they could all live. She remembered the man who had done it, the man who had become her friend and her good right arm. He was the man who had tried to love her but she had demurred. She had stepped back, corseting herself in the ideal of loneliness at the top. One cannot allow distractions when one was in the position of redemption.
Redemption it was, too.
She had stranded them, losing them the chance to go home and that anvil had weighed around her neck for seven long years. It had extracted the youth from her, the infectious joy for living and nearly the marrow from her bones. She had aged, something confirmed by the startled but recovered looks in the eyes of her mother and sister. She had become harder, less humorous and more given to taking things into her own hands. She had depended on Tuvok more than Chakotay in the deeper decisions, trusting their relationship more. He had no emotional neediness in relation to her and in her quest to bring them home, she couldn't take on more of that than the full burden of her own.
Then Tuvok had turned, moving away from her through the machinations of a Vedek from this quadrant, someone probably still here who sat and tugged at them all with his silver strings. She had told them of him and they had hunted for him, causing him to go underground. The hardcore Maquis resistance had taken him in and he had disappeared.
She was here now, standing in the shuttleway, moving toward a destiny she couldn't have dreamed of in a lifetime of dreaming big. She was to chase her companions, her friends of a thousand terrible ordeals and take them into custody. They had told her they preferred that but they would settle for evidence that they had been blown to tiny molecules.
There were no gray areas in this world of duty, fidelity and honor. They expected their pound of flesh and she was detailed to get it. Who better than her?
/... I worked with your father on the Al-batani.../
So be it, she thought, stepping forward. The whistle sounded and the protocol of granting permission to board given. She nodded, taking command with a single step. It was her ship, this Intrepid Class twin of her beloved Voyager. She was Captain of the latest version of her first command, the Federation Star Ship Sorrel Bay.
Sorrel Bay.
The great curve of seaside running down to the ancient sea of Tepis. She had never been there but it was the name of her new home, her weapon which she was expected to wield with suitable ruthlessness and tenacity. She decided in the quiet of her mother's home to do it. She would be the one who would go after them and bring them back. She would be the one who would sight them down and if necessary pull the trigger.
No one else would do that. Just her. They had her ship, they had her crew and they had her broken-hearted disbelief. She would chase them and try to save them because she knew if she wasn't the one, someone else would do it and one of them wouldn't come back alive. Maybe, just maybe she could bring them both back in one piece. She strode down the corridor, noting things and nodding to crew. She was a legend, a force of nature from the ordeal she had steered and people were slightly in awe of her. She stepped into the lift and in seconds was on her Bridge. Stepping out, she heard a shout and people stepped to attention.
"Captain on the Bridge!"
She stepped out, the omnipotent power of command swelling through her for the briefest of seconds before the terrible weight of her purpose found her again. "At ease," she said, looking around the room.
A tall man stepped forward, handsome and exotic. "Captain, welcome aboard."
"Thank you. You're my First Officer, I presume?"
He smiled, a beautiful thing and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Commander Geordi LeForge at your service. We meet at last."
She nodded, noting briefly in her mind his distinguished service on Enterprise and his handpicked status as her First Officer. She turned and walked to her seat, sitting down in the chair. Looking up at LeForge, she nodded. "Mr. LeForge, take us out of here."
He nodded, turning to the helm. "Mr. Crusher, take us out of port."
The newly minted Lieutenant nodded, once again thanking his lucky stars to have a 'rabbi' as connected as Geordi LeForge. He turned, his heart pounding with anticipation over the coming mission. "Com-Cen, this is the Sorrel Bay. Requesting permission to stand out of port."
"Sorrel Bay, this is Com-Cen. You are cleared to leave. Good sailing and god speed."
"Affirmative, Jupiter Station. Thank you."
Youthful but experienced hands flew over the panel and the great ship slipped its berth, heading for open space. Geordi turned and took his seat next to Janeway, relaxing slightly from his earlier nervous tension.
"Awaiting orders to go to warp, sir," Wesley said, glancing over his shoulder.
Kathryn stared at him, thinking of another even as she sat next to a total stranger. They had conversed for a long time, the two of them, and they were reasonably comfortable with each other. However, she wasn't Picard and he wasn't Chakotay. It would take time. She sighed and nodded. "Take us out, warp six, Mr. Crusher."
"Aye, ma'am," he said, turning and making it so.
She watched him, missing acutely what she had come to count on for too many long and terrible years. That was in the past, she told herself, sitting up straighter. That was then, Kathryn. You have to take what you've been dealt and find the good. Her mother had said so, helping her come clear on her thinking. She would take this lemon and make lemonade. Rising from her chair, she turned. "Take the conn, Commander."
He nodded and watched her walk to her Ready Room. She was an enigma to him but he was determined to be her right arm. Sitting back, he watched as they streaked toward the Badlands and the domain of their nemesis, the Maquis warrior, Chakotay.
**********Port, Maquis Country...
He beamed down, ready to lose himself in the sounds and sights all around him. The town, something called Broken Tree, was a colony that had fallen on the wrong side of corporate concerns and was held by the Cardassians off and on for some time. A concerted push by the Maquis, coupled with the gaining of the Federation in their war with the green lizard bastards had given them ownership of the place.
It had become their capital, their main base and their refuge from the sometimes-overwhelming might of the Federation. It was part refugee shelter, staging area, rear-area medivac center, town with hopes for normalcy, and pit stop for vetted civilian freighters. People came here to refurb, rest up and get laid. With every place in strife that people accumulates, there were bars and brothels. However, here they operated under Maquis law and there were high prices to pay for stepping over the line.
He walked along the street, passing bars and restaurants, aliens of all kinds, Maquis and civilian and when he got to a tough-looking place, he entered, moving to the bar. He bought a beer, turning and scanning the crowd. There was the usual assortment, men and women and some of indeterminate sex. He eyed them with interest, his plan to debauch himself becoming much more interesting with an indeterminate object of lust.
One of them, a tall woman-like man of androgynous sexual identity walked over, leaning onto the bar. She/he stared at him, noting his fair looks and obvious intent. "My name is Oola. What's yours?"
He smiled, noting her firm cleavage and slim, boyish ass. "Paris. Tom Paris."
Oola smiled, noting him noting her wares. They were available for a price she informed him, watching as he smiled without humor at her bright conversation.
"You're a Midran."
"That's right. You don't mind do you?" the alien asked with a pout.
"No," Tom said, thinking he would get two for the price of one. "I don't mind a bit."
They stood together, drinking their beer and then she took his hand, leading him away. They went outside and walked down the street, passing strangers all on their way to some place. He was on his way to a room where he would lose himself in the strange body of the alien whore walking beside him. It would alleviate this moment but there would be others.
More and more, they would come and he would have to cope. Right now, he pushed it all away. It was all he could do to deal with things right now. They turned into a hotel, small and neat, and he followed Oola up the stairs. She opened a door and they both went inside. It was meticulously clean, neat and spare. A big bed dominated the room. She turned and looked at him, his money safely tucked into a pocket. "Why don't you stand there and let me show you what you bought."
She reached back and unfastened her stays, the bodice that held in her cleavage falling apart. Two breasts, round and pert, spilled out, nipples already hard. She tossed it aside and reached down, unbelting her stays around her very trim waist. The skirt, full and white fell to her feet, revealing long and very creamy legs. Tom looked down, finding what he knew would be there. With a smirk, he moved to Oola, reaching down into her panties. He gripped the cock that was held fast behind the silk and gazed into her eyes. "You like that don't you?" she/he asked, gasping around the sensations that Tom's fingers were coaxing out of her groin.
"Oh, I do," Tom said, biting her neck and sucking the soft skin. "I really do."
The Midran smiled, knowing full well that she would get a workout from this one tonight. He looked like a sport, someone who wanted to fuck and be fucked. She/he could provide that and then some. They would both get some and then part the ways, he to go wherever he came from and her to go back onto the street. Her unique biology made it possible for her to fuck men and be fucked by men. She had both facets of male and female and she never was out of clients, many of them becoming steady customers for her specialized wares. That's why Star Fleet had recruited her. That's why she worked for them, finding out what she could and selling it back to them.
Of course, that didn't mean that her contacts didn't want the unique experience of Midran biology themselves. And if in the course of fucking a few Star Fleet agents for money she/he learned something the Maquis needed to know, more power to her. What was a girl all alone supposed to do? She smiled and unbuttoned his shirt, stripping him in no time. They fell together on the bed, him crawling on top of her devouring her right and left. It would be a rough ride until she topped and top she would. This one wanted the whole works and she was ready to deliver. If she could find something out in the course of fucking him, her day would be complete. She spread her legs and gave it up, waiting patiently as the man lying on top of her ground his way to release.
**********At the fortified Maquis HQ...
Chakotay stood in the doorway, breathing deeply the cold night air of a real planet. It would take a long time before he got over that simple thrill. The stars were out, twinkling in the sky and behind him the sounds of people closing up shop could be heard. They had returned, coming back to port and he had spent hours with his brothers debriefing and planning.
Nayib came out, stopping beside him. "It's nice out. Good night."
"Yeah," Chakotay agreed. "I wonder how Papa is?"
"He'll be better when we get him back."
Chakotay nodded and turned, regarding his brother intently. "Tom told me that you said I loved him."
Nayib looked at his brother, considering him. "You do."
"Yeah, but he's married."
"So. If you hadn't been such a jerk and kept your tongue, you might be sleeping with him and not B'Elanna."
"They aren't together," Chakotay corrected, shaking his head.
"Shit," Nayib said, his expression hardening. "They've split?"
"For now. I think he's waiting to see if she cools off."
"She might not," Nayib said, staring at Chakotay intently.
"She might not take him back."
Chakotay turned and looked at the stars. "I can't do anything. Either way I lose. I want him but he isn't free and may never be. If I get him she'll be hurt. It's a no winner."
"Patience, Chakotay. If they split for good then you can try your luck. If they don't, it wasn't meant to be. You have a good man in Tabor."
"He's a wonderful man but I don't love him like Tom.
Tabor knows it. He talks to me about Tom."
"He does?" Nayib said, grinning broadly. "He's my kind of man. If you ever leave him, let me know. I get first refusal."
Chakotay grinned and looked at his brother, shaking his head.
"You're a piece of work did you know that?"
"I think that's what he said."
"Tom?"
"Yeah."
They stood together.
"He said he threw himself at you, Nubby. He said you saved his life because you didn't take him."
Nayib sighed. "I knew you loved him. You're my brother and even if there are times when I hate you I would never be that low. However ..."
Chakotay turned to him, an expectant grin on his face. "Yes?"
"I meant it about Tabor. Okay?"
Chakotay snorted and laughed outloud. "Alright. First refusal." He stared at his brother. "We're both dogs aren't we?"
"We are," Nayib said, shaking his head. "Maybe that's why I love you so."
Bey stepped from the building and slipping an arm around each man's shoulders. "Let's go eat."
"Who is buying?" Nayib asked.
"Why, Chakotay is of course," Nayib said, grinning broadly.
They stepped off together into the darkness, walking toward the town, disappearing into the crowds in seconds.
**********At the hotel...
Tom tucked his shirt in, his damp hair curling around his ears. He had showered from his exertions, dressing slowly, watching the man-woman on the bed as she/he watched him.
"Thanks," Tom said, pulling on his jacket. His ass burned and would be sore for a while but it felt good. After he had fucked the Midran, the Midran fucked him. Good and hard and long. It had been a while, he considered, but it felt great.
"No problem," she/he said, smiling. "Come again."
Tom smiled, pausing by the door. "Count on it."
He stepped out and disappeared into the hallway, heading for his life beyond. The Midran lay back, considering this new one.
"I do, sweet boy, I truly do," she/he said to no one in
particular.
=0=
c2000 Nov TBC