Chapter Four.
AN: This is the last chapters of this work. I know there's more juice in the orange, I'm just not sure I want to squeeze it.
"Lock on to Mr. Kim's signal," Captain Janeway ordered the transporter operator the moment they climbed to the planets surface, "beam him directly to sick bay along with Ms. Torres. You have your orders for the remainder of the away team."
Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres had been located attempting to climb one of the Ocampan's ancient tunnels. They'd been hampered by fatigue and illness. Huge pustules marked their forearms, necks and face, forcing the pair to accept help in escaping the underground city. They looked painful. Paris could tell they were, by the expression hidden deep in Torres dark orbs. The part Klingon had a very high threshold when injured. Before Paris could say anything to her, she was gone, shimmering out of existence.
Sending an angry look at Captain Janeway, Tom didn't miss her next orders. However it was too late to do anything but allow himself to be captured in the transporter beam. Materialising, Paris found himself in Voyager's brig, wondering how Chakotay would take this betrayal of his trust by Janeway.
"Seems I've annoyed the Captain," Tom Paris smirked, standing behind the force field, watching the crewman at his station.
His earlier foray into Voyager's systems let him know just how many casualties the displacement wave created. The senior staff had been all but obliterated. Tuvok managed to rearrange the crew to cover the essential positions and patch the ship. However, Voyager would need somewhere safe to hide for a week to effect repairs. Val Jean hadn't fared much better.
With that in mind, Tom wasn't ready to reveal his secret just yet, even though a few words would get him released and an audience with Janeway. It was bad enough Chakotay suspected Paris had been planted on his ship. He'd been careful to impart enough truth to satisfy the Maquis Captain's curiosity and get Chakotay to aid him in sending reports to Starfleet in regards to Cardassian's and their Treaty violations. It was part of the reason Chakotay acted to incarcerate Tuvok on Tom's recommendation. Three years was a lot of trust on the Maquis Captain's part and neither Paris nor Torres could be completely insensitive to their cause after what they'd seen. So Tom made a bargain, Chakotay didn't ask questions he didn't really want answers too and Paris would do his best to get Starfleet to support the Maquis effort. It had taken some negotiating but eventually Patterson managed to get the Federation to agree.
Sighing, Paris turned to the hard, uncomfortable bench and lay down, staring at the nondescript grey ceiling. It reminded him of the only other time he'd been in a Starfleet brig. After he'd been released from sickbay three years ago, security officers took him into custody. Only later did he learn it was for causing the shuttle crash on Caldik Prime. By that time, Lt. Paris had been transported to Earth and a security anklet placed on his right leg. Released to his father's home, Tom knew this was all a bad dream, that he'd be cleared of wrong doing once the inquiry was complete. Only it never happen that way and led to the situation he now found himself in. The memories could be held back any longer.
"Lt. Paris," Fleet Admiral Nechayev announced, after his father walked out of his life and the level six force field had been erected around their debriefing. "I am well aware you were not responsible for the crash on Caldik Prime. Starfleet wished to use the incident as a means to an end." Moving her piecing gaze to Cadet Torres, she continued, "your report was insightful, Cadet, however it was not necessary to share it with Lt. Paris. In fact your went against orders and now we have the situation where changes to our plans have to be made. You, Ensign Torres, are directly to blame and find yourself in the unfortunate position of having your career dictated by me. Where as you would have passed graduation with the rest of your class, you will now find yourself on permanent assignment with special operations division. Do I make myself understood."
"Yes, Admiral," B'Elanna didn't cower but levelled a thoughtful expression at Nechayev.
"Of course," she continued in a harsh tone, "your part in this will be uncovered, your report discredited and your new commission revoked. In short, you will leave Starfleet in disgrace." Turning her attention back to Tom, Nechayev's expression softened slightly, and only for a moment. "Lt. Paris the situation on the Federation-Cardassian boarder is such that we had every intention of using the shuttle accident to recruit you into special operations after your discharge. Your personality trates are an exact match for the type of operative we need for this mission."
"I understand," Tom replied, feeling as if this was the response the Admiral sought when it wasn't remotely close to the truth.
Smiling, Nechayev finally sat and laced her fingers. Eyes bouncing between the young man and woman who wouldn't look at each other, she sat back satisfied. "I'm not sure either of you do," she stated. "Your missions, after six weeks training, will be to infiltrate the Maquis, more specifically, a cell operated by an ex-Starfleet officer named Chakotay. While you are authorised to use your skills to achieve your positions within this terrorist group insofar as it aids your mission, a secondary motivation will be reporting on the Maquis tactics and personnel. However, the aim of your mission is uncovering any information in relation to the Cardassians movements in the DMZ. The Federation knows they are not keeping to the terms of the treaty and believes they are currently negotiating with the Dominion to stabilise the Gamma quadrant wormhole. Starfleet wants to be ready should we need to close the Dominion's access to the Alpha quadrant."
"Permission to speak freely, Admiral," Tom requested, more than a little confused. He was given the opportunity with a nod of her head. "Why me? You've made you point with respect to Ensign Torres, although I don't understand why you chose to involve her in this. The report could have been overlooked or discredited officially."
"A report that saved your butt," B'Elanna spat from the seat beside Tom.
"A report," he retaliated, "that's got you into all this."
"It's very simple," Nechayev smirked, watching the interaction between the two. Both young, the choice to bring Torres in ensured Paris's cooperation. Guilt was a powerful tool. "Intelligence understands Chakotay is short of a good pilot and engineer and you two fit the bill. Sending in two operatives has more chance of working, especially with your cover story being the truth."
"I played into your hands," B'Elanna seethed, understanding how these people were manipulating them and not liking it.
Turning her cold glare on the young half Klingon, Fleet Admiral Nechayev agreed with a single nod. With that, she stood and handed the conference over to Admiral Patterson who explained the Dominion and Cardassian political situation in great detail. There was never a choice, Tom Paris and B'Elanna had been carefully selected for this mission. Later that evening they met with their trainer who instilled that fact into them, and that failure was not an option.
The ship shuddered, bringing Tom Paris back to reality. He felt the loss of power in the engines and knew they'd soon be dead in the water without an experienced pilot at the helm. Sadi, the Chief Navigator had been killed in the initial displacement wave leaving the helm in the hands of an inexperienced Ensign. Deciding now was as good a time as any, Paris approached the force field holding him in the small prison. Swearing under his breath, Tom Paris knew this decision would cause consequences for him but it couldn't be avoided if he wanted to make it back to the Alpha quadrant.
"Computer, Paris, Omega six protocol," he offered toward the ceiling.
"Voice print accepted," came the answer as the force field shimmered out of existence. "Please confirm with fingerprint, retinal scan and DNA."
Understanding something occurred, the security officer drew his phaser. "Stand down crewman," Tom offered gently, his hands in the air. "I'm going to confirm my identity, change into uniform and then you can escort me to the bridge."
Wearily the man backed off, but watched with his weapon drawn. The prisoner moved toward the console, placing a hand on the surface. Next he leant over the station allowing the computer to scan his right eye.
"Proceed to the replicator, Mr. Paris," the computer approved the prisoners identification, much to the astonishment of the security officer.
"Please don't call this in just yet," Tom requested.
"Yes, Sir," confused, he watched the officer strip to non-regulation boxer shorts before donning a Starfleet grey undershirt. Next came the black uniform. Command red piping across the chest and at cuff indicated special operations devision. Not many wore this uniform and never with rank insignia or com badge, which was cleverly hidden in the right sleeve. Mostly special operations division personnel preferred regular dress so they were indistinguishable from the rest of the ships compliment.
Together they marched quick time to the bridge only to discover both Captain Janeway and Lt. Tuvok had beamed across to the array. Shaking his head, Tom wondered why the two senior officers continued to take such risks with the ships chain of command. Especially when he looked at the bridge crew. Three ensigns and four crewmen. Not much to work with, he considered his options and cursed Janeway. If the forward view screen were any indication, the battle wasn't going well. He could see Chakotay's intention as the Alpha quadrant ships were outnumbered and outmanoeuvred.
"Mr. Kim," Tom ordered, inlaying his tone with authority few would question, "open a channel to the Maquis ship."
"Aye, Sir," Harry hurried to comply. He, like many in of the ships crew had only ever heard about the special ops division. In this situation, the young Ensign was happy to hand over control of the bridge.
"On screen," Paris directed, making his way to the con. Ejecting the young ensign at that station, he moved on sighting Tom's uniform. Paris's attire gave him special privileges few would question. That fact served him well in this situation. Waiting until the image of Val Jean's cockpit emerged, he was glad to see Torres in her Maquis garb and seating at her station. "Chakotay, I'll keep the shield down as long as possible while you beam your crew over. I've ordered the transporter Chief to keep a lock on you. I want you out of there before ramming that Kazon vessel."
Nodding, Tom could tell from the tight expression on the Maquis's face he was holding in his fury. Once again the outfit told it's own story. Federation vessels wouldn't allow anyone to replicate this uniform without authorisation, which meant the Val Jean's Captain felt betrayed.
"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Paris," Chakotay managed to grind out between gritted teeth.
"Let's get out of this first," Tom answered easily, "then we'll discuss it. Paris out. Tactical, report, what's the current situation."
Succinctly Kaplan gave a synopsis of the battle so far. Harry added the reason for the Captain and Tuvok's current mission. Nodding, Tom set a course that would take them between the two Kazon raiders, dividing them long enough for Chakotay to accomplish his mission. Just as Val Jean gave her existence to save Voyager, Paris became aware of someone standing at his side.
"I need you at the Engineering station, Torres," Paris ordered, looking her up and down. It was a signal not to blow her cover until he gave the order. "Once this is over, we're going to need somewhere to lick our wounds and I want the impulse engines running at maximum efficiency and Voyager warp ready."
"Aye, Sir," B'Elanna commented, however the subtle tone in her voice let Tom know she was happy to see him again and had been worried at his incarceration.
"Voyager, report," Janeway's voice came over the com when she felt the impact affect the Caretaker's home.
"The Kazon have reinforcements and one of their vessels collided with the array, Captain," Tom reported. "We are under attack by two raiders. I suggest you beam back, Ma'am."
"What the hell are you doing on my bridge, Mr. Paris," Janeway demanded in an aggressive tone.
"Now is not the time to discuss it, Captain," Paris stated, infusing his voice with professionalism and a touch of censure. "Transporter room two is standing by for your signal. Paris out."
Their mission on the array complete, Janeway and Tuvok had the transporter Chief beam then directly to the bridge. Without missing a step, the Captain ignored the man sitting at the helm dressed in black. She'd deal with that later. Right now there was a job to be done.
Only once the array exploded into a million tiny shards, did Kathryn Janeway allow her fury full reign. "Mr. Paris, my ready room, NOW."
Marching off the bridge with her back ramrod straight, Chakotay and Torres watched in astonishment. Paris indicated the Ensign he replaced retake the con. Giving him explicit instructions, Tom brushed passed Torres.
"You have your orders," he whispered.
Nodding, B'Elanna felt Chakotay's hard glare. "You knew," he accused.
"Yes," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring back, "from the beginning."
Behind the ready room doors, Kathryn Janeway knew she should be relieved. Tom Paris had taken command and led them to a victory of sorts. Yet she now had to come to terms with a special operations operative as part of her crew. No one would trust the man, Starfleet or Maquis alike. Finally he entered, standing tall and proud, without that arrogant expression on his face.
"Explain yourself," she demanded from behind her desk.
"Ma'am," he returned as slightly annoyed tone to his words, turning the sound into a question and placing the ball in her court.
"Care to tell me why you are wearing that uniform, Mister," Janeway let her anger infuse the words, "and what the hell you were doing on board a Maquis ship, especially when you stopped my security officer from achieving his assignment."
"Commander Paris, Ma'am," Tom offered easily. "Service number Omega six."
"I don't need your rank and serial number, Mr. Paris," Janeway's voice became quieter as she circled around the younger man still standing at attention before her desk.
"I believe my personnel record, at least what is available to your security level, became available the moment I identified myself to the computer. I suggest you read it before asking any more questions, Ma'am," Tom stood straight and kept his eyes focused on the wall.
"We are stranded seventy thousand light years from home," Kathryn Janeway deflated, falling into her chair and opening said files. It took a few seconds to scan the most pertinent information, summarised in the first paragraph. "You're my ranking officer," the Captain stated in a tone saying she didn't like the idea one iota. "I believe you were the one quoting Starfleet protocols, Commander, on the Ocampan Home World. I wondered why. I guess I have my answer. Well, it looks as though I am forced to hand the position of first officer to you, however much I despise you personally."
"As a first officer," Tom stated, not moving a muscle, "I would advise you against such an action, Captain."
That got Kathryn Janeway's attention. "Why?"
"At best, we have decades ahead of us with both Starfleet and Maquis on board. The losses on both ships would have made it impossible to continue without leaving gaping holes in the crew compliments. As such, combining the two crews is now your only option with Voyager alone in this quadrant. Chakotay has command experience and a twenty year Starfleet career. Giving a provisional commission and making him first officer kills two birds with one stone," Tom advised.
"I see the logic," Janeway gave the man before her an assessing look. "What would I do with you, Mr. Paris."
"So far you are the only person who is aware of my true rank. Permission to speak freely, Captain?"
Somewhat amused by the sudden change in attitude, Kathryn wanted to know were this was going. "Granted."
"You need a pilot and I'm your best option. As far as anyone's concerned, I might still be a Lieutenant," Paris commented. "Make me Chief Navigation officer and keep the details of my past as obscure as possible. Should there be a need, you could use my unique skill set."
"Which would solve rank issues with Tuvok and Chakotay," Janeway considered the words carefully, and the consequences should she choose to put them into action. "And the issue of combining the two crews with a Maquis first officer. You're going to be despised by both sides, Mr. Paris."
"Yes, Ma'am," Tom's eyes once again found that spot on her wall. "One final point, Captain."
"Yes, Mr. Paris," Janeway wondered what would come out of his mouth next.
"You should make B'Elanna Torres your Chief Engineer. I believe you'll find the reasons in the third paragraph of my official file," he stated evenly.
"I'll take it under consideration," Janeway's eyes searched for the explanation as she stated, "Dismissed."
Shaking her head, Kathryn Janeway ordered a hot, black coffee before calling Tuvok into her domain. They had a lot of decisions to make, not the least about the Maquis. Her eyes drinking in the security officer, she stated, "I need your counsel, now more than ever, Tuvok."
"I see the situation with Mr. Paris is resolved," the Vulcan stated.
"Oh, I think it's just started," she responded before getting down to the business of leading her crew home.
I'm thinking of ending this here. If you want me to continue, let me know. I thought about adding a Seska subplot. Then there is the whole investigations arc that would be interesting with B'Elanna remaining a sleeper agent so to speak. It would be a lot of work as changes would need to be made to some episodes running up to Tom's leaving Voyager.