Author's note: I'm not dead! Really! RL concerns tend to take precedence over writing, that's all.
His mind felt like it was stuck on warp nine. Everything kept churning through his head at once. On one hand, he knew that he had to slow down, absorb Kessel's story, and figure out what the hell he was going to do in order to defend her. Knowing it was one thing; doing it was another.
He had a sneaking feeling this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd first hoped. It had seemed so simple. Kessel couldn't help the fact that she was an Augment. Therefore, discriminating against her for that was wrong. It would be just as wrong as discriminating against B'Elanna for being half-Klingon, or Seven for being ex-Borg.
But it wasn't as easy as all that. Kessel hadn't behaved in the most honorable way. She'd jammed the bioscaners with her little gadget. She'd hidden her gifts, laying back in the biolab and letting the command crew make the tough calls. She'd never stepped forward and volunteered her intelligence or her strength. She'd commented about being able to figure out what B'Elanna was doing just by watching her. Who knew what could've happened if Kessel had been honest? According to what research he'd been able to do, Augments were twice as intelligent as normal people. Maybe she could've figured out transwarp. Maybe they could have already been home.
He'd have to have an answer for that; any prosecutor worth his salt would ask that question. And a prosecutor was the right word: no matter how Captain Janeway might dress this up as a question of eligibility standards, this was a trial. No more, no less.
Then again, he thought, maybe it was that simple. Kessel had hidden because she was afraid. She'd used the jammer because she was afraid. She was afraid that exactly this situation would come up: her career would be threatened because Starfleet barred Augments, in violation of its highest principles. And if a rule was wrong, then was it really fair to charge someone with disobeying it?
He could understand why Kessel had been scared. His understanding came from two simple words, two words that would always make his stomach tense when he heard or thought them: Caldik Prime.
He'd covered up his misdeeds, and Kessel had covered up her unpopular genetic origins. Both had eventually been found out. Both had the same motive: simple, plain old fear. Fear of the consequences, fear of disapproval. Ultimately it came down to one question: was someone who did something stupid in a moment of fear worthy of a second chance? This time, might he be able to get Kessel that second chance without making her pay the price he had?
There was still part of him that insisted that it was that simple. Discrimination was wrong. End of story. He couldn't quite put the right words to it, but the idea repulsed him and made him angry. For all these years, Tom Paris had struggled to earn the respect of his fellow Starfleet officers. He'd striven to show that Starfleet's principles weren't lost on him. Now, things were different. Now it wasn't him slacking on principles. Now, it was Starfleet itself. He'd had to work to earn his place back. Now, Starfleet was going to have to change.
But for now, he had to see to his wife. Stepping from the lift, he headed into sickbay at a jog. He turned, scanning for B'Elanna's biobed, and swallowed nervously. She wasn't there. The doctor was, and gave Paris a cool look.
"Mr. Paris," he said simply.
"Hi, doc," Paris answered. "Hey, where's B'Elanna?"
"Released half an hour ago," the doctor said primly.
Paris swallowed. Dread puddled in his stomach. Now he was gonna get it. Idiot, he cursed himself. You should've asked the computer where she was.
"To where?" he asked.
"Her quarters, of course. She has three days on medical leave, with more if necessary. For the time being, she's under the same quarantine that Ensign Kessel is." The doctor gave him a sterner look, as if reminding him of the mess Kessel was in.
"I just talked to Kessel. She looks all right. Why the quarantine? Unless they bleed on someone, it should be okay."
The doctor scowled. "Better to keep them in quarters, where the odds of finding someone to bleed on are a lot less, don't you think?"
Paris nodded slowly, his mouth tightening. The doc wasn't usually this distant with him. Taking the holographic bull by the horns seemed the best option. "Doc, are you mad at me?"
The doctor paused. "I don't approve of what you did," he said shortly. "I'm aware of Starfleet regulations, but we are medical personnel. Medical ethics do not permit simply end-running around a patient's objection, or desire for medical confidentiality."
Paris sighed, exasperated. Was everyone going to be this difficult? "Doc, we had three people down. They almost died."
"Your aim was commendable. Your means were not," the doctor observed.
Paris hissed air through his teeth. "All right," he said. "Fine. Look, I'm defending Kessel at her hearing. If you don't want me in your sickbay anymore, then...I'll understand."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and left. Anger made his face flush and his skin hot. He had a lot on his mind, and now B'Elanna was out of sickbay. So now she'd be mad before he could explain that was going on. Great. Just great.
Ethics, again. The doctor was annoyed with him because he thought he'd violated medical ethics. Then there were the Federation's ethics, forbidding genetic engineering and allowing what he'd done. Counterpointing that were the people who had helped Kessel and her fellow Augments evade the barriers society had erected for them. Everybody acting at cross purposes to each other, and every oneof them believed that he was doing the right thing.
For now, though, the right thing was seeing his wife and making sure she was all right, preferably without getting something heavy thrown at him. Although the discomfort of late-term pregnancy had slowed B'Elanna down some, her throwing arm was about as good as ever. He stood in front of the doors to their shared quarters and took a deep breaths. A moment to gather his thoughts would help. The doors opened helpfully at his approach, denying him that moment.
Paris glared at them for a moment, as if they had done so deliberately.
"Tom?" came a voice from inside, thin, weak and watery. It took him a moment to recognize it as B'Elanna's. Frustration and guilt came over him; he hadn't thought she was this bad off.
"I'm here," he said, and stepped forward. The lights were low and his eyes had to adjust. B'Elanna was sprawled bonelessly in bed, still in her uniform. She scowled at him in the dimness.
"Where were you?" she asked, and the powerlessness in her voice made him feel guilty. "The doc said I could go...and you didn't come."
"I...," he bit the sentence off, realizing he was about to say I was in Ensign Kessel's quarters, which might not be the brightest thing to say right now. "I...I was talking to somebody."
"Who?" The sheets rustled as she shifted to better look at him.
"Somebody else who was sick. I wanted to see how they were doing. I didn't know you were released from sickbay," he improvised.
"I wanted you here," she said weakly.
"I'm sorry," he said simply.
She let out what sounded like a cross between a grunt and a wheeze. "So, how's Harry anyway?"
He swallowed. A lie might smooth things over, but it seemed wrong to lie when she was so weakened. "I haven't seen Harry yet," he said. "I was talking to Kessel."
The bed creaked as she moved, and anger colored her voice. "Kessel?"
"Yes." He stepped forward and sat down at the edge of the bed. "B'Elanna...she was a lot better off than you and Harry. She's...she's an Augment. A real, honest-to-God, Eugenics War Augment."
Even in the darkness he could see her eyes flash at him. Her voice was hot. "Your pregnant wife is sick and you went off to go frolic with some ensign?"
"No," he said. "Listen. She's an Augment. She's genetically enhanced. People like that can't serve in Starfleet. So there's going to be a hearing."
"I heard about that in sickbay. So she's an Augment. So there's a hearing," B'Elanna grumbled. "So what?"
"So," Tom said gently, "I'm going to defend her."
Heavy silence weighed down the room for a few moments. He swallowed, wondering if someone had turned up the gravity in their quarters, or if it just felt that way. B'Elanna eyed him sourly in the darkness. Finally, a single word broke the standoff.
"Why?"
He blinked.
"How can you say that?" he chided. "B'Elanna, I'm sorry I wasn't here when you got out, but come on. You stick up for your engineers. You always stick up for the little guy."
B'Elanna gave him a tired, crabby look. "So what?" she said. "If she doesn't meet the standard, she doesn't meet the standard."
Tom frowned. "I can't believe you're saying that," he protested. "You...me...we're both ex-Maquis. I'm a convicted felon. We don't meet the standard either."
She shrugged. "Not according to Captain Janeway. She's the captain, so it's her call. And believe me, after all this time I've learned to trust her. She's as fair as any captain I've ever worked for. If she says Kessel goes, then she has her reasons and Kessel goes, and that's too bad for our little ensign."
Tom took a few moment to sift over what he was going to say. Pointing out the many instances in which B'Elanna hadn't been quite so trusting of Captain Janeway came to mind, but he doubted it would be helpful. Other than that, there was only one other thing that came to mind to say. Further reflection didn't give him any new ideas on how to say it. It was going to get him in trouble, but it had to be said.
"Captain Janeway's wrong on this one."
B'Elanna scowled. "No, she's not," she said. "And just what were you doing with Kessel, anyway?"
"Talking," he said hotly. "Now be fair. I have never done anything,--"
She cut him off. "Talking." Contempt dripped from her tone.
"Yes. Talking. For God's sake, she needs defense counsel."
Her eyes flashed. "Somebody else can do it!" she snapped.
Tom shook his head slowly. "I already said I would," he said.
"Let someone else," she said inexorably. "Tom, I don't mean to be bitchy, but I haven't been this bad in a long time." She paused, clearly struggling with herself. "I need you," she said finally.
That was truly what bothered her, he reflected. It was very un-B'Elanna to suggest abandoning Kessel; this was just a result of being knocked flat. It was crystal clear to him. They'd been on the surface and everything was fine; one mosquito bite later and she was fighting for her life in sickbay. Now she was stable, but weaker than he had ever seen her.
He sighed. Now he was just the armchair psychologist to everyone, wasn't he? Here he was, ascribing hidden motives to everyone around him. Maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe he ought to just let someone else handle Kessel and just see to his wife.
It was completely understandable why B'Elanna would want him to stay by her side. All the same, that entailed a price he didn't want to pay. A brief image flickered into his mind: Kessel, no longer in uniform, talking to someone else. Yeah, Lieutenant Paris hasn't changed. He got me into this mess and promised he'd help me get out of it. But when it came time to actually put in the work, he dodged out of it.
That was what he would have done before: duck out and leave someone else holding the bag.
Not this time.
"B'Elanna," he said with all the sympathy he could muster, "I know you're sick, but I can't just leave her. I helped get her into this. It's something I just...I have to do."
She tilted her head at him and her eyes flashed. "Why?" she demanded again.
Tom paused, struggling for words. They wouldn't come. How was he supposed to defend Kessel if he couldn't even defend this decision to his own wife?
"B'Elanna, come on," he began. "You and I...we're going to have a baby. When she gets big enough to ask about our pasts, what am I supposed to tell her? You, you've got an answer. You joined the Maquis because you wanted to defend your home colony. To do the right thing. Me? I joined up to booze it up and fight. I want to be able to tell her I did the right thing, too."
"You don't have to defend yourself to anyone. You've turned yourself around," B'Elanna answered, the anger waning in her tone.
"I feel like I'm not all the way there yet," he said. "And if I don't do this...," he stopped, still feeling strangled and inarticulate, "if I don't do this...maybe I never will get there. I don't like this whole witch-hunt thing. It's wrong. Kessel isn't Khan Noonien Singh. All she wants to do is work in the biolab and scan life forms and dissect things and do, I don't know...whatever else biologists do. And telling her she can't do that because she's an Augment is like saying you can't be chief engineer because you're half Klingon, or saying Harry can't be operations officer because he's Asian, or saying I can't fly the ship because I have blond hair. There used to be rules like that, too. It was wrong then and it's wrong now. They've got all kinds of pretty reasons for it, but it's just discrimination. I can't be part of it. I won't be part of it. I'll be here for you. I'm not going to abandon you, and I'm sorry I wasn't here...but I have to do this, too."
Silence held sway for a few moments. Tom tensed. He could barely make out her eyes in the darkness, but he could still see the angry sparks in them.
"Well," B'Elanna said in a businesslike tone that was too clipped and strained to be really businesslike, "then I guess you'd better go to her."
"B'Elanna?"
"Go." Her voice clotted in anger. "Just go to your genetically enhanced superbabe. If she's more important to you than me...just go."
"It's not like that," he parried, searching for words. "B'Elanna, you're sick, you're not thinking straight, this isn't--,"
"Tom? Get out. Just get out."
"B'Elanna--,"
"Just get out!"
He swallowed, feeling fear and dread mix in his stomach. There would be no meeting of the minds today. Sometimes a tactical retreat was the best option. Even so, he felt misunderstood and ill used as he left. How could B'Elanna, of all people, not understand?
It was easy to see her side: she was sick, she was weak, and she couldn't stand being in either state. It was just temporary. But even so, he hadn't planned to do anything with Kessel other than defend her. The accusation stung, and rejection stung worse.
In the meantime, she needed to cool down, and he needed someplace to stay the night. Only one place came to mind. He gathered up what remained of his dignity and headed to the turbolift. In a few minutes, he stood in front of Harry's door, wondering if he would answer. Maybe he was asleep. B'Elanna had looked awful. Even Kessel, with her heavy-duty immune system, had been knocked for a loop. Poor Harry had only the standard-issue human immune system, without Klingon antibodies or genetic enhancement to help carry the load. Still, the doc would have kept him in sickbay if things were that bad. The cell infusion therapy had worked wonders. Funny no one had ever thought of it before.
Then again, humans had shied away from genetic science for a few centuries. Maybe it took someone like Kessel, who owed her existence to those forbidden techniques, to think of its uses. After all, B'Elanna was okay, as was their daughter. In the end, that was what mattered, wasn't it?
He started, suddenly aware that he had been standing in front of Harry's door for a few minutes, lost in thought. A rueful grin came to his face. When had he ever been this philosophical? It wasn't part of the whole Captain Proton, Action Hero thing. A few moments later, the door chimed.
"Come," said a rusty, tired voice. Tom started forward. The lights were down but brightened as he came in. Harry was sitting on his couch, looking pale, jaundiced, and exhausted. Heavy dark bags below his eyes added to the effect. He was going to need those few days off.
"Harry," Tom said. "How are you feeling?"
Harry shrugged. "Tired," he said, which looked to Tom like a massive understatement.
"I, ah...," Tom began. "I really hate to bother you, but...," he stopped. "B'Elanna's mad at me."
Harry nodded slowly. "You know my couch is your couch," he quipped, and smiled. "What is it this time?"
Tom sighed and explained the situation: Kessel's actual genetic status, her idea for cell infusion therapy, her unmasking, the charges, and B'Elanna's poor reaction to his announcement. Harry listened attentively, seeming interested. He'd been interested in Kessel.
Funny, Tom thought. Here I thought I just might have a normal woman who might work out with Harry. Turned out she would've been one of the people who almost blew up the world a couple hundred years ago. That sure worked out great, didn't it? But Harry didn't seem put off by the thought.
"Wow," he said. "Kessel's an Augment." It wasn't a question, just an observation.
Tom nodded.
"Can I see those rules you pulled up?"
Tom shrugged. It took only a moment to pull it up again. There it was, in black and white, Starfleet's only sanctioned discrimination. Harry took a few moments to read it, attentive despite his illness.
"Wow," he mused. "Old reg."
"Yeah, it's pretty old," Tom said.
"You can tell. It requires a council of officers."
Tom blinked. "Well, yeah...what does that have to do with it?"
Harry stifled another cough. "Law changes," he explained. "Under modern regs, it's mostly the captain's call. This regulation is a lot older. There was a time when Starfleet tried having things more split up, with councils of officers sitting in like juries. The idea was to spread out power and make sure captains didn't get too powerful. It didn't really work out well in practice, so Starfleet came out with new regs putting the captains back in charge of hearings. But this law is so old, they never bothered changing it."
"You sound like you know about it."
Harry chuckled weakly. "Yep. I took a couple of courses in legal history at the Academy. It's sort of interesting."
That didn't surprise him somehow. Harry was a bookworm.
"All the cases are really old," Harry continued. "I think you may have a good shot at beating this. I mean, she's a Eugenics War Augment. That actually helps you."
Tom tilted his head. "How do you figure?"
"She was born the way she is," Harry explained. "Most Starfleet officers would agree that discriminating against someone for being born the way they are is wrong."
Tom chuckled sourly. "Will Captain Janeway?"
Harry turned and eyed him. Even sick and pale and yellowish, he still looked like he had made some leap Tom hadn't.
"You don't have to convince Captain Janeway," he said. "If she follows these rules by the book – and I suppose she will – she is going to preside over the hearings, as a judge. But these regs require a council of officers, and they're the people you have to convince. That's what you've got to do. Get the jury to see it that way. Point out other rules against discrimination. Point out Starfleet's dedication to making room for people who are different. That sort of thing."
"Good idea," Tom mused.
Harry waited a beat. "Are you going to want some help?" he asked.
He hadn't been expecting that question. "I guess," he said. "But, I mean, Harry, come on, you're sick. I don't want to impose on you any more than I am already."
Harry shrugged. "I have a few days off anyway," he said. "I'm not going to run a marathon anytime soon, and I doubt I'll be up to playing Buster Kincaid, but I can research stuff on the computer for you."
"Ahhhh," Tom said. "Sure. Thanks. I can use all the help I can get."
Harry smiled. "Not a problem," he said. "I can help. I mean, it's not like Kessel tried to take over the ship or anything. And besides...," he trailed off.
Tom didn't need to be told what the besides was: Harry liked Kessel, and the fact that she was an Augment didn't seem to have impacted that. He supposed those fetching green eyes were still on Harry's mind. Did it matter? Not really.
"I don't mean to be a bad host," Harry said, "but I'm beat." He gestured at the couch. "Make yourself at home. Replicator's there if you need it. You know, if you need a uniform or anything in the morning."
Tom smiled uncomfortably. "Sure," he said, and watched Harry go back into his bedroom. Then he slipped off his boots, took off his jacket, and lay back on the couch. He was still a little nettled that B'Elanna had reacted the way she had, but she'd come around. She always did.
Harry's offer of help was a welcome bonus. He wasn't sure what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was ladle more stuff onto Harry's plate – the guy had enough to deal with right now. But Harry clearly wanted to help. And if it scored him a few good-guy points with Kessel – so what? No harm there.
B'Elanna hadn't approved; Harry had. One up, one down. He yawned as the lights went down. So much had happened, and he still had a long ways to go. Heck, he hadn't even told Captain Janeway he was Kessel's defense counsel. But there would be no more answers tonight. Those lay ahead.
Tom rolled over onto his side, shifted a little, and went to sleep.
