Title: DISPLACED (1/20)
Writers: REBECCA KEATING (Chakotay, Torres & Tuvok), NICK LEWIS (Paris), FARI MOHAMMED (Janeway), ALLEN McDONNELL (Stadi, Wildman & Lefler)
Edited by NICK LEWIS
Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and it's associated characters are trademarks of Paramount/Viacom. This is a fan-run venture, making no money. Please leave our lawyers alone ;-)
V-Trek: The Alternate Adventures @ http://www.virtual-trek.fsnet.co.uk
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Unhappy with a new treaty, Federation colonists along the Cardassian border have banded together. Calling themselves The Maquis, these colonists continue to fight the Cardassians.
Some consider them heroes, but to both the Federation and Cardassian governments, they are outlaws.
********************
Phaser fire flashes across the viewscreen, illuminating the small bridge. Consoles explode to the Captain's left, making him wrap his foot even more tightly around the base of the pilot's chair. He ducks his head slightly as sparks from the console threaten to singe his close cropped hair. At the same time he types in a new sequence. "Initiating evasive pattern Omega, mark"
B'Elanna lets loose another string of curses. "Another fuel line has ruptured. God damn it, we're barely maintaining impulse. I can't get any more out of it."
Captain Chakotay swings the ship around again. "Be creative!"
B'Elanna explodes what he's sure is a klingon expletive in his direction. "How the hell am I supposed to be creative with a thirty-nine year old rebuilt engine." Why can't the maquis get better ships? she thinks to herself. Though she does secretly enjoy showing off her engineering skills.
"Maquis ship!" The grey leathery face of a mature Cardassian flashes onto the viewscreen. "This is Gul Evek of the Cardassian Fourth Order. Cut your engines and prepare to sur-" Chakotay interrupts his piloting only long enough to close the comm channel with the side of his hand.
Something shoves the ship from behind. "Shields at fifty percent" Tuvok reports from tactical.
Damn! Chakotay twists a look at Torres "I need more power if we're going to make it to the Badlands."
The half Klingon engineer blinks. "Okay... take the weapons offline. We'll transfer all power to the engines."
Tuvok lifts his head and arches an eyebrow. "Considering the current circumstances, I'd question that proposal at this time."
"What does it matter?" Torres glares at him. "We're not making a dent in their shields anyway." Chakotay sighs and she turns her glare on him. "You wanted creative."
Not wanted, didn't have a choice, he thinks. There is a difference. "Tuvok, shut down all the phaser banks." He turns back to Torres. "If you can give me another thirty seconds at full impulse, I'll get us there."
"Phasers offline" comes Tuvok's voice.
Chakotay orders Tuvok to fire the remaining torpedoes and transfer power from those systems. The bolts of firepower shoot out of the ship's reverse cannons and inpact on the warship's shields. "Are you reading any Plasma storms ahead?"
"One" the Vulcan replies. "Co-ordinates one-seven-one mark four-three."
"That's where I'm going." The ship responds sluggishly to Chakotay's commands.
"Plasma storm density is increasing..."
Chakotay only vaguely hears Tuvok reciting the increases in density. He doesn't need to hear him. He can feel it with every move of the ship.
"The Cardassian ship is not reducing power. They're following us in."
"Gul Evek must be feeling daring today" The Maquis watch as the Cardassian warship attempts to follow their path. A plasma discharge rips along the belly of the enemy.
"They're sending out a distress signal on all Cardassian frequencies."
Chakotay smiles slightly. "Tuvok, can you plot a course through these plasma fields?"
"Storm activity is typically widespread in this vicinity. I can plot a course, but I'm afraid it will require an indirect route."
"Good. We can use the time to make some repairs." Chakotay stands up and moves away from the helm. He nearly smacks his head on the roof as he stretches his stiff back. He needs a rest, they all do. Before he can ponder this any further though, a white light strobes through the ship, ending almost as soon as it began. "What was that?"
Tuvok's voice cuts across his thoughts. "Curious! We've just passed through some kind of coherent tetryon beam."
Chakotay's heart thumps in his chest. What if the Cardassians have developed new weaponry. "Source?" he asks, pushing the thought out of his mind.
"Unknown." Chakotay squeezes back in beside Torres. "Now there appears to be a massive displacement wave moving towards us."
"Another storm?"
"It is not a plasma phenomenon. The computer is unable to identify it."
"Put it on screen" Chakotay orders. He gazes as an ellipse of brilliant white light rushes towards them.
"At current speed it will intercept us in less than thirty seconds" Tuvok interjects.
Chakotay glances desperately across to Torres. "Anything left in those impulse engines, B'Elanna?"
She growls something in his general direction. "We'll soon find out" Her fingers play over the console.
"It is still exceeding our speed" Tuvok cuts in.
Chakotay doesn't bother acknowledging. "Maximum power."
"You've got it already" Torres shouts.
Chakotay prays silently. Not like this. After everything we've been through, everything we've dreamed. Don't let us lose our lives like this.
"The wave will intercept in 8 seconds... 5."
Chakotay locks his feet around the base of the chair, his hands frozen to the control panel. He clenches his teeth, damning the Federation for the ill thought out treaty, damning the Cardassians for chasing them in here, and damning whatever explosion of nature was now slamming into them. The wave claws them open like a rotten fish until the ship streams its viscera a molecule wide into forever, into nowhere, into everywhere. Not like this!
[OPENING CREDITS]
Federation Penal Settlement, New Zealand.
Tom Paris finishes micro-welding a complex looking piece of machinery and closes up the cover, banging on it when it sticks. "Be careful with that, Paris" says the guard standing nearby.
Tom shoots a sideways glance to him. "I'd like to see you do this" he mutters, quiet enough so that the guard doesn't hear him.
Then another guard casually walks over and talks to his comrade in hushed tones. "Get up, Paris" his watcher says after a few moments.
"What's going on?" Tom asks, narrowing his eyes.
"You have a visitor" the newly arrived guard tells him.
"Who?" Tom can't think of a single person who'd want to visit him at this place.
"You'll find out when you get there won't you." The guard looks expressionless at him. Tom sighs, gets up from his kneeling position and goes across the walkway and down the steps, the guard behind him. He's led to the recreation area; a little unusual. Waiting by a tree is a woman in full Starfleet uniform - the crimson strip of command across the shoulders of the black jumpsuit. Light brown hair frames her face, flatteringly. As they get up to her, Tom sees four pips on her collar.
The Captain nods at the guard to leave them alone. "Captain...?" Tom says expectantly, wondering what she could want with him.
Kathryn Janeway has to admit she doesn't know what to make of the man standing before her. From what she's read of his file, Tom Paris is a first class flirt. He gives new meaning to the phrase 'a girl in every port'. He's also a first class pilot and an Admiral's son to boot. So why did he join the Maquis? Alright, Caldik Prime was a messy business, but surely he's better than that? "Captain Janeway, Mr Paris, of the starship Voyager." She extends her hand to him.
Tom shakes it warily. He's obviously suspicious of her. "Mind if I ask what the Federation wants with me now?" he asks, staring at her.
"I think the better question is what do I want with you."
"Fine! So... why are you here?"
She ignores the sarcastic edge to his voice and thinks about his question. Just on the job and already one of her crew is in trouble. Starfleet's been keeping her on her toes, but they're not going to like what she's going to say next. "I have an officer under my command in trouble, Mr Paris, and it seems you're the person to get him out of it."
"Me?" Tom is a little confused. Who's the officer, and what's their connection to him? A million and one questions race through his head. He folds his arms. "Well this is going to be interesting. Pray tell. Although I feel I should point out, Captain, that I'm not exactly in a position to get anyone out of anything right now." He gestures all around him.
Kathryn suppresses a faint smile. "Then perhaps you should begin to think beyond the box." Enough of this, she sobers mentally. She starts walking, Tom following to her right. "The man missing is my security chief, Lieutenant Tuvok. His assignment was to infiltrate a Maquis ship."
"Spy. Say it like it is, Captain."
She looks at him disdainfully, his insubordination starting to grate on her. "As you like. Semantics don't concern me at the moment. In any case, the Lieutenant has failed to report in for the past few days and we've recieved word that the ship was destroyed in the Badlands." She stops there, not divulging any more suspicions or otherwise, waiting to hear what Paris has to say.
"If the ship was destroyed, why do you need me?" Tom says simply, walking around the Captain. "Your spy's dead."
She looks at him, not at all put off, but she has better things to do than play games with him. "Alright, you win. We suspect that the ship was not destroyed but lost. I need your help to get him back, preferably in one piece." Tom nods but doesn't jump in to offer his help. Well fine, she more or less expected that.
"You know, Captain, I'm at a loss as to why you've specifically picked me out. I was only with the Maquis for a few weeks before I was captured. I don't know where most of their hiding places are."
"You know the territory better than anyone we've got" Kathryn admits. "Besides, the ship we're looking for is commanded by another former Starfleet officer... a man who I believe you're familiar with."
Tom's interest is definitely piqued now. "Who?"
"Chakotay" she tells him. "The two of you didn't get along very well I'm told."
Tom looks away for a moment. "That's an understatement. Chakotay will tell you he left Starfleet on principle, to defend his home colony from the Cardassians. I on the other hand was forced to resign. He considered me a mercenary, willing to fight for anyone who'd pay my bar bills." Tom pauses. "Trouble is he was right." He stops walking. Kathryn looks at him, letting him continue. "Okay Captain, I'm interested. But first I need to know one thing. I think you know what that is."
She nods slightly. She hoped she wouldn't need to play this card, but needs must. "Okay Mr Paris. You help me find that ship, I give you one get out of jail free card. That is what you were fishing for wasn't it."
Tom smiles for the first time. "You read my mind, Captain."
"So I have your agreement?"
"Sure" Tom grins, "why not."
Kathryn nods. "Your position will be that of a Starfleet Observer."
"Observer?" Tom interrupts, looking pained. He paces across the grass, "Hell, I'm the best pilot you could have."
"You'll be an Observer" she says stiffly. "We're scheduled to depart from Deep Space 9 in five days. Be there."
Tom blinks as the Captain takes her leave of him. Oh well. He only has to work with her for a few days at most, then he'll be free. Not a bad day's negotiating. Maybe I should become a diplomat, he thinks sarcastically as he walks back over to the complex.
********************
Tom steps aboard the runabout. "Observer Tom Paris, reporting as ordered."
A woman sitting in front turns to look at him and nods. "Welcome aboard. I'm Lt Stadi. Our travelling companions are Ensigns Lefler and Wildman."
"Hello ladies" Tom says, giving the three of them his best smile.
The blond-haired Ensign smiles back and offers her hand. "Samantha Wildman, but you can call me Sam." The other two women seem less enthusiastic.
"We're taking the Rubicon to DS9 where we'll rendez-vous with the Voyager" Stadi announces. "The good news is I am in command of this trip."
"Congratulations, Lieutenant!" Tom says giving a smart alec salute to Voyager's alpha-shift helm officer. Rolling her eyes, Stadi competently gets the Rubicon on her way to DS9, though Tom is sure he could have done it better himself if he was allowed. The four of them have a few days in each other's company, so Tom takes the opportunity to try and get to know them a little better... or a lot better depending on how lucky he is. As the first day wears on though, he finds his 'batting average' slipping. Sam Wildman is friendly enough, but all his passes soar over her head, her nervousness about the prospect of holding a senior officer's position for the first time clearly overriding everything else. Robin Lefler is somewhat detached, always with her head stuck in a PADD, studying technical specifications and the like. And Janecea Stadi is the most uninterested of the lot, keen to keep things purely professional. Tom is personally not overly impressed with her either, but considers it rude to leave her out.
"So, Robin" he begins, "tell me, why did you accept the transfer to Voyager? You could have stayed on the Enterprise with your service record."
"I know that. But the Voyager is a brand new ship - new engines, new design, new capabilities and new challenges. She's bound to have some unique problems and I'm the expert who can smooth her way through them."
"Well you certainly have the confidence for it. All you want to talk about is engineering."
"Learn with your eyes, then with your hands. That's how you avoid mistakes Mr Paris."
"Exciting way to live!" he replies with sarcasm.
Robin looks back up. "Safe way to live!" she corrects.
Tom shrugs, then goes back to the cockpit. "Struck out again?" Stadi asks with a smug smile.
"Those two are studying as if it were finals time at the academy! This is turning into one long trip."
"Well what did you expect? I know you resigned but you must remember the thrill and fear of making an embarassing mistake on your new posting."
"Give it a rest, Janecea" he says, making deliberate use of her first name to annoy her. That at least is turning out to be a amusing enough diversion. He's never met a Betazoid as stiff as her. Should get along well with the Captain, he thinks sourly. Another four days later though, Tom is ready to pull his hair out just for the sake of doing something creative. As an Observer, he's been studiously kept from using any Starfleet computers or other ship controls more complicated than the replicator. Finally they come into view of DS9. And not before time.
"There she is" Stadi says, becoming more animated than she's been the entire trip. She points excitedly at the viewscreen. "That's our ship... the Voyager!" At first Tom and the others have a hard time picking the Intrepid class vessel out from all the other ships docked at DS9. The medium small Voyager was docked bow first at an upper pylon docking port. Shark-like in her sleekness, Tom recognized her graceful lines as those of a tightly manouverable ship. Stadi gives them all a grand 'round the ship' tour before landing the Rubicon at the assigned landing pad.
"Sustainable warp factor of 9.975, bioneural computer subsystems, 15 decks of accessible space with a crew of only 150, shuttle bay with four advanced shuttlecraft and room for four Peregrine class scoutcraft" Robin reports, having absorbed the ship systems in detail.
"Bioneural?" Sam asks.
"Artificial neural cells in subsystem packs" Stadi explains, not to be outdone by an Ensign when talking about the advantages of her own ship. "They collate and improve processing speed for all the ship's computer subsystems, especially the interlocking field geometries needed for high sustained warp speeds." Stadi had been aboard since the Voyager began her shakedown cruises almost a year ago and was very proud of her ship.
"Impressive" Tom chips in, trying to feel like part of the group. The Voyager would be home for these three women. All it could be for him is a one way ticket out of jail. He kind of regrets being apart from Starfleet, no longer a member of the team that would get to fly this beauty from star to star.
Leaving the Rubicon is a startling contrast for the four of them. Deep Space Nine is stark, dimly lit and unfinished looking to those used to Starfleet standards. The station security chief greets them as they arrive, raising Tom's hackles. The meeting is conducted politely by the others, but when Odo is asking if he can do anything for them, an impatient Tom butts in uninvited. "Yeah. Point me to the nearest bar would you?" he asks in an overly casual tone. "I need a drink."
