Anything Trek-related belongs to CBS at the moment. All the original characters belong to me. This is for entertainment purposes only, and I definitely don't make any money from it.
xxx
AN: The time: Several decades past "Endgame," so we'll see Tom and Kate at a very different point in their life. (And see them through the eyes of their family.)
Be aware, this contains depictions of violence (though not graphic) and references to substance abuse.
xxx
"Captain, ship registering about 100 clicks ahead. Sensors confirm it is Delta Flyer III."
John Brendal ran his hand over his face. "Brendal to Admiral Riker. Please report to the bridge."
"We've found the Delta Flyer, sir," Brendal reported as Will Riker arrived.
"Hail them," was all Riker said.
A young man's face appeared on the screen. Intense blue eyes, golden-red hair.
"Lieutenant Paris, taking the Admiral's ship out for a spin?"
"Not exactly, sir," Jacob Paris replied.
"Good morning, Will," came a familiar, older voice. Tom Paris sat down at the helm next to his son. "We must be important if they sent you after us."
"Tom, what in the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Let's see: my wife and son were abducted during what was supposed to be a routine diplomatic mission. Did anyone think I would just sit on my hands?"
"You know we're looking for Kathryn and Chase. We're blanketing the sector."
"And we're going to help," Tom replied.
Riker looked beyond Tom at two young women in Starfleet uniforms. "Are you trying to ruin all your children's careers? You do realize that Miral and Liz could be court-martialed along with you and Jake. I supposed you have Ben involved, too?"
Another young man with red-gold hair, this one in an Air Reserve duty uniform, stepped into view and waved.
"Oh for God's sake," Riker exclaimed. "Why don't you come on board and we'll talk about this?"
Tom shook his head. "You're going to have to arrest all of us. Kathryn will be beyond pissed. And she outranks both of us. Look, I'm pretty sure they've been taken off Culvera. But there's not a lot of warp-capable worlds out here, so we're going to start by scanning areas that are a day or two away on impulse.
"We're planning on doing the same," Riker said. "Right now, I'm going to have a chat with the Culveran ministers. We suspect they know more than they're telling."
"Isn't that always the case? Well, we'll start scanning while you rattle the saber. Let us know if you find anything, and we'll do the same. Paris out."
xxx
Kathryn shifted against the bulkhead of the old shuttle, keenly aware that a rather rough-looking Bajoran had a compression rifle trained on her and Chase.
She looked over at her son. The bruise on his jaw was turning a dark shade of purple.
"How's the jaw?" she asked quietly.
"I don't think it's broken, Admiral," he said. He knew the drill: don't give your captors anything to use against you. "Are you all right?"
"No mission is routine," one of her Command School professors once said. And she was living proof of that. Again.
Culvera was seeking admission into the Federation. She was there to discuss their technology and what they could offer, or want from the Federation. Chase was doing some research for Ambassador Fujiea, so she brought him along — more for her benefit than the ambassador's.
They had just walked out of a restaurant when they were accosted by three men holding phasers. They stunned the Federation Security escort before he could move. She managed to fight one off, but apparently, she was getting old: the second one grabbed her.
They dragged her to a waiting hovercar, but not before Chase ran at them, likely intending to tackle her and knock her from their grasp. Unfortunately, he was sidelined with a punch to the jaw. He fell on top of her, and they threw both of them into the vehicle.
She overheard the three of them whispering: one of them wanted to kill Chase. She tensed.
"No," one of them said. "We were told no one was to be harmed. It might spoil our chances. We'll decide what to do with him later."
They were herded, hands bound and communicators and personal possessions stripped away, into a shuttle that didn't look at all spaceworthy.
"So, where are you taking us?" Kathryn demanded.
"Consider yourself our guest, Admiral," the Bajoran said.
"That would be Admiral Janeway ... Kathryn Janeway," she replied.
The Bajoran couldn't hide his shock. Guess he knew the name.
"What do you want with us?" she pressed.
"You'll know soon enough," the man replied quietly. "We have no interest in harming you, unless we don't get what we want."
The leader came back to join the Bajoran. "It's Janeway," the Bajoran said.
The man, a human, raised an eyebrow, then pulled a small knife from his pocket as both Kathryn and Chase held their breaths.
He knelt in front of Kathryn and motioned for her to raise her hands so he could cut the bonds.
"Apologies, Admiral," he said, "we usually don't treat our friends this way." She nodded over at Chase, and the man obliged, cutting his bonds, too.
He stood up. "Feel free to take a seat on the bench ... use the head." He looked over at Chase. "I think we have a dermal regenerator. I will warn you not to try anything rash; firing a rifle in here would blow us all to Sto-vo-kor, but if we have to ..."
"All right," Kathryn replied, rubbing her wrist. "To which friend do I owe my thanks?"
"You'll find out soon enough," he replied as he went back to the helm.
Chase and his mother shared a look, and Kathryn turned a thoughtful gaze back to the helm. He sighed. There were portions of his mother's life that she wouldn't, or couldn't talk about. He had a feeling he was going to see one of those hidden bits.