Disclaimer: Paramount Pictures, The wonderful writer, producers, actors,
makeup artists, plot designers…they all own or have a right to the
"Official" Star Trek Voyager and its creation. Where as I, a humble if not
partially obsessive fan have claimed rights to only Borrow characters for a
story of my own. No financial benefit will be coming my way, and no harm
is intended.
Authors notes: Once upon a time, long long ago I began this story. At the beginning of season six actually, and I have been periodically working on it ever since. However it would never have come close to being finished without my good friend Naomi's help! Her insights, comments and continuous corrections of my rather horrendous grammar helped me greatly. I don't Think I could have wished for a better editor. Thank you Naomi! Also a thanks to Jessica, who's opinions and encouragement helped a great deal.
Rating: PG 13, it has violence and maybe some semi-swear words.
-consider this alternate universe material, although in my mind it is perfectly acceptable as Startrek reality (
Even Hero's Have the Right to Bleed.
The walls were a cold grey, towering around him and watching his every move, but he wasn't paying any attention to the walls right now. No, he was paying attention to the three people who were walking him through these cold corridors. Three beings who seemed to be talking about something very important, but he couldn't hear them properly because he was to busy trying to keep up with their long strides. They were so big.
"He seems to have the potential, but he will need to be studied before we can be certain it's there." The tall man with hair as black as his dog spoke assuredly. This man scared him. He looked mean.
"I understand that Sental, but he is still so young. He is only four years old; we usually don't start their training until they are six or seven, that's when we are sure that they can be used." She seemed nicer, her voice was soft, but he didn't like her either. She kept glancing at him nervously, as if he could read her thoughts. Not likely, because he knew he couldn't do that. Adults were so silly sometimes.
"Our head telepath already did the boy's reading, and his report came out positive. I trust his opinion, and he says that he is sure this child has the skill." Sental looked down at him, his eyes were a cold grey and his lips were puckered in thought. "Not many humans are born with this ability, and those that are we can't use because their families are to much of a risk. His family handed him over to us, saying they wanted him brought up right; to use his skills to full potential. He is ours now, and we can definitely use him."
"While I agree that we can use him, I still think he is to young! I know we have a limited amount of humans in this program, and those we do have don't have his 'ability', but is it necessary to take such a chance at this early a stage?" Sental focused his cold eyes on her for a moment and stopped walking, forcing the little procession to block the nearly empty corridor. He turned to face Sul'ta, a Vulcan who had remained quiet thus far.
"What does that logic of yours think?" The Vulcan looked down at the young boy for a moment, before answering.
"I think it is risky to introduce him to the project so soon, but he does seem more perceptive than the average human child at this age. I believe we can train him without a problem."
"Good. That is what I wanted to hear. I want you to get the team together and debrief them. We start the boy's training tomorrow, bright and early." Sul'ta nodded and walked away from the group. Sental turned towards the women again. "Show him his room, get some food into him and explain the situation if you want."
"Yes sir." She nodded and Sental left them alone. She looked down at the boy now in her charge. "Well Thomas, I think it's time you saw your new room." He looked up at her, his blue eyes confused.
"I don't need a room here. I have one at home, on Earth."
"No, you don't have a room there anymore, you're going to be staying on this moon for a while. It's your new home."
"But, I don't want to stay here."
She looked down at the boy, annoyed. "What you want doesn't matter. This is the way it is. You are going to have to deal with that." She began to walk away, and he hurried to catch up with her. He knew he shouldn't make adults upset with him, he always listened to them, just like his father made him. But he was starting to get scared, because he didn't like it here, the people were scary, and they lied.
He soon found out that he had every reason to be afraid of them.
They were a part of Starfleet that wasn't supposed to exist.
The ship went about its daily business, each person on board performing their assigned tasks to the best of their ability. Many people were too busy to really think about the date, or its significance, but there were a select few that were very aware of the date. It was the anniversary, after all, that Thomas Paris had left them.
One year ago, he had simply walked into Captain Janeway's ready room, handed over his commbadge, his single pip, and stated that he wished to leave Voyager. The news of his resignation had traveled through Voyager like water through a sieve. Very quickly everyone had learned that he was leaving, and that he wasn't giving any particular excuse as to why he was abandoning them. As would be expected, the emotions and speculations surrounding his resignation ran wild.
Many people had fallen back on their original beliefs that he was a traitor, a user. He did what was best for himself, and didn't care much for the consequences. Considering his checkered past it was very easy to believe, but there were still a few on board Voyager that demanded an answer from him. They demanded an explanation, and they had every right to demand, because he had been a part of this ship's finely tuned family for six years. He was a senior officer, the chief conn-officer, he was the doctor's assistant, and he was their friend. Or so they had thought.
When they had asked him why he was leaving, he had never given them a straight answer. Oh, he had thrown many reasons for leaving at them. He'd stated that he had never fit in, not belonging to the Marquis or Starfleet in the first place. He stated that he no longer had the desire to remain on Voyager, and while it had been great while it had lasted, he knew it was time to move on. He insisted that they didn't need him anymore, that they had plenty of capable pilots and people much smarter than him who would be suitable assistants to the doctor. He had dropped hints of a major piloting opportunity being offered by the Kinkari; they were the beings whom Voyager had been visiting and trading with.
He had apologized to them, to his friends, when he said goodbye. It had been difficult for everyone. Naomi had given him a small picture which she had drawn, to remember her by. He had packed one bag, leaving all his possessions save some clothing and one or two other items, on Voyager. Captain Janeway, not being in a position to refuse his resignation, had pressed a commbadge into his hand, saying that if he changed his mind before they were too far away, then he should call.
Five hours after his resignation he was gone.
Several weeks after his departure Voyager had grown very lucky and found a wormhole that would bring them four years closer to home. It was only a temporary wormhole however, and they had flown through it immediately, leaving Tom Paris behind for good. The members of Voyager rejoiced in their luck with the wormhole, and slowly, the ship adapted to the loss of their former pilot and friend. So it was understandable how shocked they were, on this day, when he just 'appeared' on the bridge, standing by the helm, looking as real as the day he had left. His blue gaze had quickly scanned over the whole bridge, assessing the situation, and then he had calmly turned toward his Captain.
"Permission to come aboard, captain?"
"Permission…granted."
Authors notes: Once upon a time, long long ago I began this story. At the beginning of season six actually, and I have been periodically working on it ever since. However it would never have come close to being finished without my good friend Naomi's help! Her insights, comments and continuous corrections of my rather horrendous grammar helped me greatly. I don't Think I could have wished for a better editor. Thank you Naomi! Also a thanks to Jessica, who's opinions and encouragement helped a great deal.
Rating: PG 13, it has violence and maybe some semi-swear words.
-consider this alternate universe material, although in my mind it is perfectly acceptable as Startrek reality (
Even Hero's Have the Right to Bleed.
The walls were a cold grey, towering around him and watching his every move, but he wasn't paying any attention to the walls right now. No, he was paying attention to the three people who were walking him through these cold corridors. Three beings who seemed to be talking about something very important, but he couldn't hear them properly because he was to busy trying to keep up with their long strides. They were so big.
"He seems to have the potential, but he will need to be studied before we can be certain it's there." The tall man with hair as black as his dog spoke assuredly. This man scared him. He looked mean.
"I understand that Sental, but he is still so young. He is only four years old; we usually don't start their training until they are six or seven, that's when we are sure that they can be used." She seemed nicer, her voice was soft, but he didn't like her either. She kept glancing at him nervously, as if he could read her thoughts. Not likely, because he knew he couldn't do that. Adults were so silly sometimes.
"Our head telepath already did the boy's reading, and his report came out positive. I trust his opinion, and he says that he is sure this child has the skill." Sental looked down at him, his eyes were a cold grey and his lips were puckered in thought. "Not many humans are born with this ability, and those that are we can't use because their families are to much of a risk. His family handed him over to us, saying they wanted him brought up right; to use his skills to full potential. He is ours now, and we can definitely use him."
"While I agree that we can use him, I still think he is to young! I know we have a limited amount of humans in this program, and those we do have don't have his 'ability', but is it necessary to take such a chance at this early a stage?" Sental focused his cold eyes on her for a moment and stopped walking, forcing the little procession to block the nearly empty corridor. He turned to face Sul'ta, a Vulcan who had remained quiet thus far.
"What does that logic of yours think?" The Vulcan looked down at the young boy for a moment, before answering.
"I think it is risky to introduce him to the project so soon, but he does seem more perceptive than the average human child at this age. I believe we can train him without a problem."
"Good. That is what I wanted to hear. I want you to get the team together and debrief them. We start the boy's training tomorrow, bright and early." Sul'ta nodded and walked away from the group. Sental turned towards the women again. "Show him his room, get some food into him and explain the situation if you want."
"Yes sir." She nodded and Sental left them alone. She looked down at the boy now in her charge. "Well Thomas, I think it's time you saw your new room." He looked up at her, his blue eyes confused.
"I don't need a room here. I have one at home, on Earth."
"No, you don't have a room there anymore, you're going to be staying on this moon for a while. It's your new home."
"But, I don't want to stay here."
She looked down at the boy, annoyed. "What you want doesn't matter. This is the way it is. You are going to have to deal with that." She began to walk away, and he hurried to catch up with her. He knew he shouldn't make adults upset with him, he always listened to them, just like his father made him. But he was starting to get scared, because he didn't like it here, the people were scary, and they lied.
He soon found out that he had every reason to be afraid of them.
They were a part of Starfleet that wasn't supposed to exist.
The ship went about its daily business, each person on board performing their assigned tasks to the best of their ability. Many people were too busy to really think about the date, or its significance, but there were a select few that were very aware of the date. It was the anniversary, after all, that Thomas Paris had left them.
One year ago, he had simply walked into Captain Janeway's ready room, handed over his commbadge, his single pip, and stated that he wished to leave Voyager. The news of his resignation had traveled through Voyager like water through a sieve. Very quickly everyone had learned that he was leaving, and that he wasn't giving any particular excuse as to why he was abandoning them. As would be expected, the emotions and speculations surrounding his resignation ran wild.
Many people had fallen back on their original beliefs that he was a traitor, a user. He did what was best for himself, and didn't care much for the consequences. Considering his checkered past it was very easy to believe, but there were still a few on board Voyager that demanded an answer from him. They demanded an explanation, and they had every right to demand, because he had been a part of this ship's finely tuned family for six years. He was a senior officer, the chief conn-officer, he was the doctor's assistant, and he was their friend. Or so they had thought.
When they had asked him why he was leaving, he had never given them a straight answer. Oh, he had thrown many reasons for leaving at them. He'd stated that he had never fit in, not belonging to the Marquis or Starfleet in the first place. He stated that he no longer had the desire to remain on Voyager, and while it had been great while it had lasted, he knew it was time to move on. He insisted that they didn't need him anymore, that they had plenty of capable pilots and people much smarter than him who would be suitable assistants to the doctor. He had dropped hints of a major piloting opportunity being offered by the Kinkari; they were the beings whom Voyager had been visiting and trading with.
He had apologized to them, to his friends, when he said goodbye. It had been difficult for everyone. Naomi had given him a small picture which she had drawn, to remember her by. He had packed one bag, leaving all his possessions save some clothing and one or two other items, on Voyager. Captain Janeway, not being in a position to refuse his resignation, had pressed a commbadge into his hand, saying that if he changed his mind before they were too far away, then he should call.
Five hours after his resignation he was gone.
Several weeks after his departure Voyager had grown very lucky and found a wormhole that would bring them four years closer to home. It was only a temporary wormhole however, and they had flown through it immediately, leaving Tom Paris behind for good. The members of Voyager rejoiced in their luck with the wormhole, and slowly, the ship adapted to the loss of their former pilot and friend. So it was understandable how shocked they were, on this day, when he just 'appeared' on the bridge, standing by the helm, looking as real as the day he had left. His blue gaze had quickly scanned over the whole bridge, assessing the situation, and then he had calmly turned toward his Captain.
"Permission to come aboard, captain?"
"Permission…granted."