Chapter 10—2368

Lieutenant junior grade Tom Paris was pouring a couple glasses of wine when the door to his apartment chimed. "That's probably Mitch," he said with a slight eye-roll to his companion. She raised her eyebrows, amused. "I'll get rid of him."

He was still holding the half-empty bottle of Merlot when he opened the door. As soon as he saw who it was, his eyes widened in surprise. "Torres?" he asked with a frown. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled slightly up at him, her dark eyes bright but slightly hesitant. "I, um," she paused slightly, turning her eyes from his and seeing the tall redhead on his couch for the first time. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had company."

"Yeah," he said with an ironic smile. "Wait here for a minute, okay?" She nodded as the doors slid closed, her still in the corridor and him still in his apartment.

"Sorry, Ashley," he apologized to the engineering ensign. "She was one of my plebes when I was a company commander."

"You were a company commander?" Ensign Ashley Wilson asked, amused. She shrugged a shoulder and gave him a small grin. "No problem. You want me to stay and wait, or is this going to take awhile?"

"I have no idea," he confessed. "I haven't seen her since the company's last formation. I don't know why she's here."

"Ah, I see," Wilson said, her voice teasing. "The mysterious young cadet shows up at her former senior officer's quarters late in the evening…" she let her voice trail off, letting him finish that thought.

"Hardly," Paris replied dryly. "She couldn't stand me."

"Then I don't have to be worried?"

He rolled his eyes. "About what?" They both knew that this was nothing serious.

She grinned at him and kissed him lightly. "I still have reports to finish anyway. See you at work tomorrow?"

"Where else would I be?" he asked with a grin. "Goodnight, Ash."

"'Night, Tom." She gave him another teasing grin before breezing out of the apartment.

He waited a moment after Wilson left before opening the door again. Torres was still standing out the corridor, an apologetic expression on her face. "I didn't mean to run your date off," she said.

He shrugged as he stepped out into the hallway. "No big deal. It was just a working dinner." That technically wasn't true—although they were planning on going over some the specs for the newest R&D project over dinner, that wasn't the only thing on either of their agendas. "Do you want to go somewhere and get some coffee?" She nodded the affirmative and allowed him to lead her down the hall to the lift and out of the apartment complex. Paris had no idea what he should say to her, and she wasn't volunteering anything, so the trip was a quiet one.

As they began to walk the streets of Mars Station, Paris decided he had enough of the mystery. "What brings you to Mars?" he asked, polite but firm enough to let her know that he found the whole scenario a bit strange.

She turned to face him, cocking her head slightly to the side before turning her gaze back to the front. "I just got back from my space walks." While that was undoubtedly a true statement, he didn't see what it had to do with her presence on the red planet. He waited patiently, and sure enough, she continued. "I had a week break before I left for Junior Survival Strategies. There's an engineering course at Utopia Planitia during winter break, an officer's level course, and I was invited to apply. I have my interview tomorrow." She paused for a moment before speaking again. "I decided on a whim to come by and see you." She turned back to him and gave him a small grin. "I should have commed first, apparently."

For some reason, he found himself grinning back. "Officer's level engineering course, hmm?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. "That's pretty impressive for someone who could barely make it through Interstellar History without getting in a fight."

"Hey, he started it," she replied defensively. He only grinned and shook his head slightly in reply.

They arrived at Paris' favorite coffee shop at Mars Station and took their drinks to a booth by one of the large front windows. Torres studied the view with a thoughtful expression as she sipped her raktajino. "Penny for your thoughts?" Paris asked.

"What?" Torres asked with a frown.

"It's an old expression," Paris explained. "A penny was a coin, a form of currency. It means, what are you thinking?"

"Oh," she said, lapsing into silence again. "I think this might be the same coffee shop where my grandparents met."

"Your grandparents?" he asked in surprise. Based on what she had said about her father at the Winter Ball two years before, he had assumed that she didn't have any contact with her family.

She nodded, her eyes on him. She was strangely calm, had been for the entire evening, and paradoxically, he found that her composure was putting him on edge. "My grandfather was an engineer at UP after graduating from the Academy. My grandmother had a summer journalism internship at the New York Times, had an assignment to write about the new ship that was being built. She managed to convince him to answer some questions in exchange for a dinner date. They were married two years later." She raised her eyebrows slightly as she took another sip of her drink. "She started going to my track meets last spring. We went out to dinner a few times, trying to get to know each other again. She's a reporter. She likes to tell stories," she added with a slight shrug.

"Your father's mother?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, my Klingon grandparents used to live on Mars Station," she said dryly.

"Stupid question."

"Yeah."

He chuckled quietly before his expression was serious again. "So have you gotten to know your father again?"

She shook her head and looked away. "No," she said flatly. After a short pause, she added, "but I have met his daughter."

"He has another daughter?"

She nodded. "That woman he was with at the Winter Ball is his wife. According to my grandmother, they got married three years after he left me and my mother. Navi was born three years after that. She's eight."

He studied her expression. "You're okay with this?"

"I am now," she said. "It was hard to take when I first heard it, but none of it is Navi's fault, after all. She's really a not-bad kid. Pretty smart, actually."

"That doesn't surprise me," Paris said dryly, but with a smile. "Bet she's a trouble-maker, too." Torres only quirked an eyebrow in response.

"Believe it or not, I didn't look you up to tell you about my grandmother," Torres said after another stretch of silence. "I, um, well, I wanted to apologize." Her voice was so small and her words so unexpected that it took Paris a moment for her statement to register.

"Apologize?" he finally asked.

She glanced up at him in reluctance. "For the way I acted my entire plebe year," she clarified. "It took me awhile, but I realized that you were trying to help, trying to get me to focus my energy on something constructive instead of biting the heads off of anybody who would disagree with me." She looked down at the table again, but Paris could tell she wasn't finished, and sure enough, her eyes again lifted. "Why? Why did you give it so much effort?"

"Because it required that much work," he replied lightly.

"I'm serious, Paris," she said, her words taking on a slightly sharper edge. "Why did you bother, when it would have been so much easier to discipline me whenever I went against regulations? Or even easier to just let me self-destruct?"

He was surprised at the question. "You were my plebe, I was your commanding officer. You were my responsibility."

She shook her head. "You didn't put that much effort into anyone else in the company. If Burke had been as much trouble as I was, would you have worked as hard to help him?"

"How is Burke, anyway?" Paris asked, hoping to steer her away from the topic.

She waved the question aside. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since we all went into our separate tracks."

"Oh?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. "I thought you two…"

"Ancient history," she said forcefully. "And stop trying to change the subject. Why the extra work?"

Knowing that honesty was the only way to satisfy her questions, he sighed deeply. "Do you remember that day during the summer session, when you and Virot almost came to blows about that group exercise?"

She chuckled slightly. "Virot, wow. I haven't even thought about him since the end of the summer session." She frowned in concentration. "Whatever happened to him, anyway?"

"He was invited to apply again for the next year, but I heard he declined in favor of attending the Vulcan Science Academy." He took a sip of his mocha. "But anyway, that day, I realized something, about you and about Starfleet." He wasn't done talking, and Torres remained silent. "You had a passion about you, a very violent passion, but passion nonetheless, that made—makes—you who you are. It's what makes you such a talented engineer. I realized that if Starfleet had its way, it would take that away from you, make you just another cookie-cutter ensign in some engineering section of some ship somewhere. And if you couldn't play by their rules, you'd leave. Either way, Starfleet would be out of an amazing engineer, and I couldn't let that happen." He took another drink of his coffee, trying to sort his thoughts. "I realized that I had to teach you how to live within Starfleet's rules without being consumed by them."

She studied him for a moment, and he almost squirmed under the intensity of her dark eyes. "You're not a big fan of Starfleet, are you?"

He frowned, trying to figure out how to answer that. "I like Starfleet, the goal of exploration, of seeking out new life and new civilizations, even if my contribution to that goal is only from the helm of an experimental shuttle or starship. It's the institution I have a problem with, the conformity, the following without question." When he looked up again, she was fixing him with that intense gaze.

"How are things with your father?" she asked quietly.

His jaw stiffened involuntarily. "Fine," he replied tersely. He knew she didn't believe him, but she didn't push the issue. She glanced at the chronometer of her pocket PADD and sighed.

"It's getting late," she said reluctantly. "And my interview is pretty early. I should get back to the hotel."

He stood when she did, holding the door open for her. "I'm glad you came by," he said honestly.

"So am I," she replied. She studied him for a beat as they walked down the streets of Mars Station. "I have a question for you."

"Sure," he said.

"Junior Survival Strategies," she said, "any advice?"

"Depends on the admiral you're stuck with. I had my father," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Got a B minus. Who do you have?"

She smiled slightly. "I heard he's a really tough grader, but at least he doesn't play favorites. Some guy named Paris, maybe you've heard of him?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "You have fun with that, Torres. Actually, it probably wouldn't be as bad for you as it was for me. He doesn't have ridiculously high expectations for anyone except his own flesh and blood. Besides, you're both high-strung, type-A personalities, perfectionist science-oriented people. You're going to be fine."

"I hope so," she said with a sigh. "I don't have the best track record with authority figures named Paris."

He laughed again. "Let me know how it goes. You know where to find me when you get back."

She smiled slightly as she paused in the doorway of the commuter lodging at Mars Station, studying him with those big brown eyes. He wished he knew what she was thinking when she had that expression on her face, as if she was trying to analyze everything about the situation at once. "Yeah, I do. And next time, I'll comm before stopping by." She gave him a quick grin. "Goodnight, Paris."

"'Night, Torres. Good luck at that interview." He stood in the street for a moment, watching the doors slide closed again, wondering what had just happened.