Something to Celebrate

by abharding

Owen Paris learns what has become to Voyager and to one of her crew members... Post Message in a Bottle and pre Pathfinder

Something to Celebrate

Ann B. Harding parisfan@erols.com

Web page: http://hometown.aol.com/parisfan/

Summery: Owen Paris learns his son is alive and well in the Delta Quadrant...

Disclaimer: Voyager and Starfleet as well Owen and Tom Paris are owned by Paramount Pictures. I am just borrowing them for this little tale.

"Admiral Paris?"

Owen Paris glanced up from the reports as he answered his secretary's comm. "Yes?" he asked. "What is it Nicole?"

"Admiral Kirby is here to see you, sir." The young woman replied. "He says it's very important."

Owen smiled. "Send him in." James Kirby was a long time friend but recently it had been difficult for the pair to spend time together. Kirby's Research and Development Department had been particularly busy these last few years. And while Owen's duties as an instructor at Starfleet Academy were not as demanding, there were times when it was hectic. He had just finished one of those weeks. Cadets weren't the only ones who dreaded midterms essay exams.

"James, how the hell are you?" Owen asked when a tall, thin black man entered the room. "How are things in R&D?" He assumed it was something in that department that had brought the man here. He motioned to the chair on the other side of his desk.

"Good." Kirby said as he sat. "We did have some problems with the shakedown of our latest ship, the Prometheus, but we were able to get her back in one piece."

Owen nodded. "I heard something about that." He had known that something had happened to that ship, and that the entire crew had been lost, but the details were classified. "So what brings you here?" he asked with an easy grin. "Surely not the Prometheus." .

"As a matter of a fact, it does have to do with the Prometheus," Kirby replied. "Or rather what we found when we caught up with her." He quickly related the story of how the Prometheus had been stolen by Romulans, Starfleet's search to find it, and what the officers had discovered when they boarded the ship.

"A pair of EMH's?"

Kirby nodded. "There was only one Prometheus' though," he explained. "The other was sent."

"But who would send the Prometheus an EMH?" And why had Kirby come all this way to tell him this?

Kirby took a deep breath. "Voyager."

Owen's stomach dropped. "Voyager?" His eyes flew the picture on his desk. A picture of the young man Owen thought he'd lost forever. Could it be possible he would get a second chance to repair their damaged relationship? "Our Voyager?" he asked. There were a thousand other questions he wanted to ask, but stopped himself. He trusted Kirby to answer all his questions eventually.

"Do you know of another Voyager?" Kirby asked with a grin

"But . . . but how?" Paris asked over the pounding in his heart. "From where? Where are they now?"

"The Delta Quadrant." Kirby replied. He quickly began to explain the story of how a being known as the Caretaker had dragged starship from all over the galaxy, including a Maquis ship and Voyager to the Delta Quadrant in an effort to find a biologically suitable mate. He continued with the events that lead the Kathryn Janeway's decision to destroy the Caretaker's array stranding both Voyager's crews and the Maquis in the Delta Quadrant, and finally Kathryn Janeway's decision to merge the two crews into one. "There are a lot more details in here," Kirby said as he handed Owen a PADD, "It makes for some very interesting reading," he smiled. "One thing though, it's all from medical perspective. And I am sure there is quite a bit information missing. Navigation logs, engineering reports ‑ crew evaluation. Things that would be in a ship's log, but the CMO would not have access to."

"I thought Voyager sent their EMH," Owen said. He didn't know many CMOs who would give the ship's EMH any more information then necessary.

"They did. But the doctor assigned to Voyager was one of the ones killed by the effects of the displacement wave." Kirby replied with a shrug. "The EMH was activated then and they have used it ever since."

"The EMH has been the ship's doctor for the past four years?" Owen asked.

Kirby nodded. "And the crew seems to in excellent health."

"Starfleet Medical is going to love that." Owen muttered. The EMH was still a somewhat controversial project, the long‑term version even more so. There were many in Starfleet who did not like the idea of people being treated by a computer on a regular basis, no matter how advance set program was. Even with it's improved beside manner. "What about . . . the rest of the crew?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to know. He hoped that his old friend would know what he was really asking. Would know who he wanted to know about.

"For the most part the crew seems to be doing well," Kirby replied. "Tom included. From what I have seen, he is thriving. Kathryn Janeway gave him a field promotion of Lieutenant and appointed him to replace the Flight Control Officer ‑ who had also been killed by the displacement wave." Kirby smiled. "And, because of the pre med classes he had taken, he also as been training as a medical assistant."

"A medical assistant?" Owen asked. He placed his head in his hands. When Maggie learned about that, Owen would never hear the end of it. "How is he doing with that?"

"The EMH seemed quite pleased with him." Kirby knew what Owen Paris' wife was going to say when she heard about that little tidbit of information. "He seems to think that Tom could even be a doctor, if he put his mind to it."

Owen leaned back in his seat, trying to wrap his mind around what he had just learned. It wasn't easy. There was just so much in a sort period of time. And he had the feeling he was missing something. "Wait a minute," he said when one realized what one of the missing pieces was. "If Voyager is in the Delta Quadrant, how were they able to send their EMH to the Prometheus?"

"Apparently Voyager discovered an abandoned network of relays," Kirby began to explain how Voyager had discovered the relay network, saw the Prometheus, tried to hail it but could not, because they needed a stronger signal. He skimmed over how the crew decided to send the EMH and what happened once the hologram found himself in the Prometheus sick‑bay. "That's also in the PADD." Kirby nodded to the PADD.

Paris glanced down at the PADD ‑ a treasure trove of information. "Sounds like a great story," he said. "Holograms retaking a ship," he mused. "Now there is one for the books. I wonder what the people at Jupiter Station will say when they learn about this."

"Be even more insufferable then they are now." Kirby replied. "Apparently it's not the first time Voyager's EMH has done this sort of thing. He talked quite a bit about retaking Voyager from a race called the Kazon. Using a plan of Tom's as a matter of fact."

James Kirby always had a soft spot for Tom. He'd been one the few people who had vocally disagreed with the hearing board's decision to cashier the younger Paris out of Starfleet.  Owen wasn't that surprised that Kirby would be pointing out well Tom was doing on Voyager. Not that he needed any real convinced. He had always known Tom could be an exceptional officer, when he wanted to be that was.

"There is something else I need to discuss with you." Kirby said after a few minutes of silence.

"I thought as much." Owen replied. "You could have sent this sort information over the Comm channels and I don't think you came here to gloat about how well my son is doing on Voyager," he said lightly. "So what is it?"

"We are already considering how we can get Voyager home. As it stands right now, their journey will take decades." He looked over to make sure that Paris was following before he continued. "In the meantime though, we want to establish regular communications with them."

"What about this network?"  Owen asked.  "We know that it works and…. "

"We've considered that. The preliminary scans of the network say it is technologically possible, but don't know very much about the space were many of the relay stations are located. Which means we have no idea if Voyager would be able to reach some of those relay stations. However, there are a few we are reasonability sure they can access. We are planning on transmitting a message within the next few days with any all information we have about that sector of space, and updates on our current status." He paused again, this time meeting Paris directly in the eye. "And we will have enough room for personal messages."

"Personal messages?" Paris asked, hoping his voice wasn't as squeaking as much as it sounded like it was to his ears.

Kirby nodded. "We've been contacting all the families of the surviving crew. We are even going to allow the imprisoned Maquis here to transmit messages to the Maquis there." He shrugged. "It's not as though the Maquis on Voyager can do anything on that ship, and they certainly are no longer a threat here."

Owen nodded. No, there was no longer a Maquis threat. The Cardassians and the Jem'Hader had made sure of that. While he little sympathy for terrorists, no one deserved to be slaughtered as they had. There were still several Maquis in Federation custody at the various penal colonies. Even if they had betrayed the Federation, they were still entitled to the same rights as every other Federation prisoner. Included was the right to contact family and friends, provided they did not use such contact to gather information to used against the Federation or Starfleet. "When will you be sending these messages?" he asked trying to sound nonchalant.  Not that James would believe it for a minute.

"In a few days." Kirby said. "We still have to inform the rest of the families and give them time to figure what to say. On the other hand, we have no idea if Voyager is going to have to change course at some point and move away for the array, so we want to send the messages as soon as possible. So we want a method that does not depend that relay station. We began looking into the possibility of communications over these kinds of distances just after Ben Sisko discovered the Bajoran wormhole. With so many people going through there and settling in the Gamma Quadrant we wanted an alternative means of communicating with the ships and colonies should anything happen to wormhole." Those colonies had been destroyed and with the war there were no longer any more ships in the Gamma Quadrant. "However, there is no reason we can't start the program up again. This time looking into ways to establish regular communications with Voyager."

Paris nodded again. "But what does this have to this me?"

"Well you do know that Chin will be retiring next month, right?"

Paris blinked at the non sequitur. "Of course I know. Maggie and I will be hosting her retirement party."

"We're going to need someone to take over her department."

So that was what had brought Kirby here. For the last decade Salina Chin commanded the long range communications and deep space telemetry sections of Starfleet's Research and Development Department. "And you want me?"

"You did study engineering at the Academy, didn't you?" Kirby asked.

"But that was decades ago," he tried to protest. Besides, the professors had always scoffed at his ideas, saying they were impractical when they weren't down right impossible. But surely Kirby remembered that. "And I haven't exactly kept up with latest research."

"I find that hard to believe." Kirby replied. "All right, you may not be up on the latest in long range sub‑space communications, but I know that you have kept up with many of the recent developments concerning starship design and construction and in short range communications."

"I have stayed up with the current developments in starship technology, but what does that have to do with trying to establish communications with Voyager?" he asked.

"If this is going to work, we are going to need the right people, not just not just someone who knows every theory and paper on the topic." Kirby replied.. "Not that there as been much written. Until a few years ago we had no need to send communicate with someone tens of thousands light years away." He meet Owen's eyes. "And you do have a knack for picking the best and brightest."

Paris snorted. "I'm not so sure about that," he said quietly.

"You were the one that convinced Kathryn Janeway to switch from the sciences to command." Kirby reminded him. "And from what we have been able to learn from the EMH, she has done an incredible job under the circumstances. You know talent when you see it."

"Not when it came to my son, it seems," Owen said softly.

"Owen…." Kirby sighed as he shook his head. "Does this have anything to do with what you said to him after the hearing?" he asked after a long pause.

Owen nodded. Even after all these years he still had problems talking about that day. The argument he and Tom had. The things he said to his son, and the look on young man's face when he said them.

"You don't mean you really believed those things you said?" Kirby asked. "About how you had always known he would screw up sometime, that it was only a matter of time before he messed up?"

Owen winced. Kirby's rendition was mild compared to what he had said that night. "I don't know," he said. "Why would I have those things if I didn't mean them?"

"You were hurt." Kirby said. "You were angry.. Tom not only lied to Starfleet, he had lied to you. I know I would be furious if my one of my kids had done that."

Owen knew his friend was right, but he wasn't sure he could forgive himself. "Even so..."

"Besides… you knew what Tom was capable of," Kirby interrupted. "You told anyone who would listen how great he was. How great he was going to be. You just never told the right person."

Paris looked up. What in hell did that mean?

"Tom," Kirby clarified. "You never told Tom."

It was a statement, not a question, but he answered nonetheless, "No," he said. "I'm not sure why, but I never did, " he paused, thinking back all those years. "I guess, maybe, I just didn't want him to get a swelled head."

Kirby raised an eyebrow in surprise. "A swelled head?"

"Flying came so naturally to him." Owen explained. "When he was younger, I don't think he realized how gifted he was," he smiled. He could almost see a small boy, blue eyes shining as he struggled to control the class B shuttle Owen had borrowed for the day. "I'm flying, Dad. I'm flying," he had shrieked with glee, as though it was the most wondrous thing in the galaxy. To an eight‑year‑old, it probably was.

"He didn't understand that not everyone could control those old shuttles as well as he did when was eight, no matter how old he or she was." He sighed, bringing him self back to the present. "It wasn't until he got to the Academy that he realized just how unusually talented he was."

"He was good, wasn't he?" Kirby agreed. "Still is, according to what we have learned from the EMH." He paused, watching Owen. "And it seems that he as become a first rate officer. Maybe he just need some more time to grow up before he could become a good officer," he suggested softly.

Grow up? Owen thought. No, growing up was not what Tom needed.. What he had needed was the space and time to find his own way. Owen could see that now. With the clarity that only hindsight allows, could see how he pressured his son. At the time he had thought it for the boy's own good, but now he wondered if it was his son he was thinking about, or his own place in history.

Owen had realized early in his career that while he could rise to the top levels of Starfleet, it was unlikely he would be able to anything that to leave a lasting impression. He was a good captain, but not a memorable one. Not the sort that filled the history books.  Still, he never doubted that he would become an Admiral at some point in his career though. Not so much because of his families connections, but because he had what mother called "an admiral's temperament." He did not mind delegating authority to competent people, and he did not mind that he was not the one implementing the decisions he made. So while he never doubted that he would reach that rank, he always wondered what, if any, sort of a legacy he would leave.

All that changed though the day he let his five‑year‑old son to play in an Academy shuttle simulator. On that long ago day Owen realized that while he may not leave his mark on Federation or Starfleet history, his son might. As Tom got older, Owen realized that piloting wasn't Tom's only skill. He had the natural, easy leadership style that eluded Owen. The boy was bright, charming and witty. Tom had all the makings of a first rate, history‑making Admiral, and Owen was determined to make sure that was what he became. And when Tom was to young, or pig headed, to see his own destiny, then Owen would see it for him.

"I hate to ask this, but there is something else." Kirby said, startling Owen out of his thoughts. "We are going to need an official liaison between Starfleet and the Voyager families," Kirby said. "Someone to keep the families informed of our progress, someone they can ask questions to."

"That sounds like a good idea."

"Normally it would be a counselor," Kirby continued "but in this case we have someone different in mind."

"Oh?" Owen asked. "Who?"

"You."

"Me?"

Kirby nodded.

"Why?"

"I would think that would be obvious," Kirby said dryly.

"Obvious?" Owen asked. "You mean Tom?"

"It might help if the families knew that the person they are dealing with knows what they are going through," Kirby explained.

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. During the time that Voyager had been listed as "missing" Owen often talked to family members wanting information. Even after Voyager had been declared "lost" he had stayed in contact with a few of the families. That was one job didn't need to consider. He could accept that one without hesitation ‑ even if he didn't accept the other job.

"Well," Kirby said as he stood. "I have to go. I need to contact Ben Sisko on DS9. An engineer there is the husband of the one the surviving members of the crew," Kirby smiled. "He's going to learn that not only is his wife alive and well, but he is a daddy." He looked down at Owen. "I'll be back tomorrow. I'll need your message and answers then."

Owen nodded. He was glad his friend didn't want, or need, an immediate answer. He was going to need some time to think. About what he should say in the message to his son. And Kirby's offer. He couldn't do that here though. He glance up to tell his friend that, but Kirby had already left. Quietly he picked up the PADD Kirby had given him, as well as the one he had been working on when Kirby had arrived. "Nicole," he said as he stepped out of his office. "Cancel or reschedule the rest of my appointments for today."

"Admiral?"

Owen smiled, it was not that often he surprised his secretary. "Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day," he said. He wasn't sure how much to tell her, or even how to tell her, so decided he wouldn't say anything for now. "Something has come up," he said. "I'll explain later."

****************************

He had just read about the Doctor's decision that Tom was the most qualified on the ship to become the primary medical assistant when a shadow fell across the PADD.

"Owen?"

He glanced up at the familiar voice. "Maggie?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"But how did you know I was here?" he asked. He hadn't told anyone he was coming here. The small park just outside the Academy grounds was one his favorite places to go when he needed to think. There weren't that many people who knew about it and that was one of the reasons he like it. He could be alone here.

His wife of forty years smiled. "This is where you always come when you are upset," she replied. "I called the office and Nicole told me that you had left after a visit from Jack Kirby. She said you seemed a little upset. So I called Jack's office, hoping he could tell me what he might have said that would get a reaction out of you, but the people at his office informed me that the Admiral was busy contacting the family members of the Voyager crew." Her voice was calm, but he could hear the fear there. "Owen, what is going on? What did Jack tell you about Voyager? Did Starfleet find some . . . " She broke off and swallowed. "...wreckage?" she asked, she managed to squeak out.

Owen shook his head. "No, nothing like that," he said with a smile to let her know that it was not bad news. "Exactly the opposite. We made contact with her. Or they made contact with us. Sort of. The details of just how and where the contact took place are classified, but contact was made."

"Voyager contacted Starfleet?" she asked.

"Voyager's EMH did." Owen clarified. "He was transmitted through a massive relay network that extends to the Delta Quadrant."

"Where are they?" She asked. "What happened to them?"

"In the Delta Quadrant," he said. "Some sixty thousand light years form Federation space."

His wife didn't care where the ship was though. There was only one thing she wanted to know. "Is Tom alive?" she asked.

He nodded. "And doing quite well, if this EMH is anything to go by." He keyed the display for the PADD.

She looked at the display and at the size of the file. "Isn't there a.... I don't know, a pared down version?"

"That is the pared down version," he said with a smile. "Remember when Voyager left the EMH would have been a Mark One," he explained. "Though, I think this Mark One might be a bit different then rest." He knew there was no hope of her not finding out about Tom's second job, so he figured he might as well get that out in the open.

"Why?" Maggie asked.

"Well, because the doctor assigned to the ship was killed when Voyager was dragged to the Delta Quadrant, the EMH has been pretty much the only doctor on the ship."

Her lips twitched. As doctor in Starfleet Medical, Marguerite Paris worked on the EMH project, so she knew all about the Mark 1 EMH. Including the fact that while the Mark One was brilliant at treating any medical problems may have had, there were severe problems with it's interpersonal skill's ‑ or lack thereof. "Poor Voyager," she said. "I imagine they are healthy enough, but I can't imagine they are eager to go to sickbay."

"I don't know." Owen grinned back. "It seems that in addition to his piloting duties, Tom as become the EMH's chief assistant."

"Tom?" Maggie asked with a smile "A medic?" To her credit, the smile was not to smug. She had always said that Tom could have made a good doctor. While the "life sciences" did not come as easily as flying or astrophysics, he had always done well in those courses. And some of the skills that would have made him a good captain, would have also made him a good Doctor. He had a knack for putting people at ease. "How is he doing?"

"According the EMH," Owen admitted. "He has a lot of potential to become a first class medic."

"A lot of potential," she repeated. "Is that they only thing he as been doing?"

Owen shook his head. "You read all about yourself," he said handing her the PADD. "It seems he is a first rate hero many times over," he smiled slightly.

She looked at the PADD. "So is Starfleet going to able to communicate with Voyager anytime soon?"   as she scanned to information flashing across the screen. 

He was grateful she had not said "I told you so." He would not have blamed her if she had. "They are going to try to use the same array to send some files, updates, things like that," he looked at her sideways. "And they are going to include personal messages."

"Personal messages?" she asked. "And you are going to send one to Tom." The last was a statement more then a question.

He nodded, but didn't meet her eyes, instead looking out at Bay, and the historic Golden Gate Bridge. "I've been sitting here, thinking about all the things I could say to him. All those things I should have told him, but never did."

"That could be a very long message," she replied with a small smile to take the sting out of the words. "I hope you leave room for me to at least say 'Hello'."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied with a slight laugh. Maggie never pulled her punches with him, especially when it came his relationship with their son. She had always told him he should tell his son how proud he was of him, but Owen had stubbornly insisted that the boy knew how he felt. Looking back now, he could see that she was right, that he should have told him. Now he had been given a second chance, he wasn't going to waste it. Which brought him to the other matter he need to consider. "There is something else," he began. "James also wanted to know if I wanted to take over for Selina when she leaves." He blurted it out, not wasting time with pleasantries.

"In R&D?"

"He wants to find an alternative to the relay station for contacting Voyager."

"It sounds like a good idea," she agreed. "Do you want to do it?"

He hadn't thought that much about it, so he wasn't until he heard himself say, "yes, I do," that he realized how much he wanted it. And not just because this was a chance to talk with his son again. He had been at the same job, teaching the same courses at the Academy for far to long. He needed a change of pace. "I think I am going to take it," he said again, feeling more confident about the choice he had just made. He rarely made any decisions without careful consideration, but this one felt right. He couldn't explain it, it just did. He had only felt this sure something once before ‑ when he had asked a young, opinionated doctor to marry him, even though they known each other only a few weeks. And that was certainly a decision he had never regretted.

She smiled at him. "Good," she said. "Now that is settled, I was wondering if you would do me the honor of dining with me at The Whales Back?" she asked as she stood.

The Whales Back , a small seafood restaurant several kilometers up the coast, was famous for it's magnificent view's of the Pacific Ocean and the whales that now populated the ocean, descendants of the pair of whales that had been brought back from excitation by the legendary James Kirk almost 100 years before. It was also one of their favorite places for romantic dinners. "Tonight?" he asked as he joined her.

She nodded. "A nice quiet dinner, a bottle of wine, and we can watch the sun set," she slipped her arm into one of his. "What do you say?"

"When did you plan this?" he asked. It was almost impossible to get an oceanfront at the last minute. Though if anyone could do it would be Maggie.

"A few days ago," she admitted. "I thought we needed an evening out after the madness of dealing with midterms. In fact, that's why I called you in the first place," she explained as they began walking toward on the paths that lead to the transport lot. "And now, we have something to really celebrate."

His wife was an optimist, no doubt about it. But this time she was right. They did have a reason to celebrate. Their son was alive. It didn't matter the chances they would ever see him, in person that is, again were practically nonexistent ‑ he was alive. And if what he had read so far was any indication,  doing very well.  And that was indeed, something to celebrate.