This story is AU and explores the possibility of Voyager returning to the
Alpha Quadrant in 2374, in the middle of the Dominion War. All the
characters belong to someone else but I'm glad I get to play with them.
Thanks to BR, B'Arb, Starburst and Dasia for the beta. Dedicated to Harmonic Convergence.
Certain people might notice a similarity to the story line of Casablanca, a movie from the 1940's and one of the best movies ever made. Yes, I did blatantly steal the plot but I added a few Star Trek twists. No apologies, I had a great time doing it!
Nik's Place
Chapter 1
The planet Beloti was an arid world on the edge of Cardassian space. It was a stopping place for the refugees from the Dominion War. Thousands of men, women and children, fleeing planets that had been overrun, some utterly destroyed. Most of the refugees stayed on the edge of the planet's main continent since it was near the main source of water. Small oases in the heart of the planet attracted the very adventurous but those were few and far between. The Cardassians seemingly saw no value in this particular planet since it had little water, few mineral resources, and a population of misfits, drunks and outcasts.
The main town was called "Grethor," Klingon hell; an apt name for a place where the inhabitants cursed their luck and sold their souls to get out. A visitor to this town would see nothing but grim gray buildings wedged together along hot, narrow streets and back alleyways. The streets were teeming with life but this town had little to offer the weary traveler - a few merchants, dingy, crowded hotels and dozens of seedy bars where the fugitives could gather to commiserate or bargain for passage to another world, and a more hopeful future.
Starfleet also saw little value to this far off planet but it kept a small base there as a reminder to the Cardassians that they had agreed to leave this world alone. Lieutenant Harry Kim had been assigned to maintain that base. It wasn't exactly a plum assignment but Kim had more experience with first contact situations than most at his rank. He'd also seen his share of deep space and combat. Those were the official reasons he was offered the command. The real reason was that Ensign Kim had been part of the Voyager fiasco and it's consequent political debacle.
The return of Voyager after nearly four years lost in the Delta quadrant saw the Maquis members of the crew arrested and detained aboard Deep Space 9, only narrowly escaping deportation to trial on Earth. The Starfleet crew had been hailed as heroes but their protests over the treatment of their crewmates had brought embarrassment to the admirals at headquarters, and the returning "heroes" were soon sent on to other posts, separate and distant from each other. Only Captain Kathryn Janeway had maintained the facade of returning hero. She was feted and paraded, promoted to Admiral, and given a desk job at Starfleet Headquarters.
Lt. Kim couldn't spare much time to worry about his Starfleet career though. His first command offered enough challenges to keep him frantically busy on this godforsaken pile of sand, so close but so far from the real action of the war. Tonight however, things were going smoothly and he left his office in the care of an ensign while he made his way to "Nik's Place," the hottest spot in the town of Grethor.
Nik's Place was primarily a bar, but it featured entertainment and gambling, pretty Dabo girls and alcohol - lots of alcohol. In fact, with water so short on this planet, alcohol was a mainstay in most everyone's diet. But Harry didn't go for the drinks although he did occasionally indulge. And he didn't go for the girls -- well, maybe the girls were a high point. He went because he had friends there. Old friends who'd been through hell with him and had escaped to a bar on the planet of Beloti.
The wide double doors of the large white-washed building welcomed Harry as he pushed through them into the smoke filled room. The Federation may have been able to eliminate the use of tobacco and drugs on the home planets but the outlying worlds still held on to the old vices. The rise and fall of hundreds of voices from every backwater planet in the galaxy greeted him. Harry thought it was a miracle that his universal translator didn't short circuit every time he came to this place. The multi-species band was playing softly. It was always a source of amazement to him how such a conglomerate of instruments and musical styles could produce any kind of tolerable sound, but they did. They weren't exactly a joy to listen to, but they were an adequate diversion in a war torn world. He took the opportunity to acknowledge the piano player with a smile and was rewarded with the royal wave.
The rattling of dice, crackling of cards and shouts from the gambling tables in the back room could be clearly heard. Harry knew that behind the door Dabo girls were flirting with customers at their tables, and the cries of "Acquire" and "Confront" came from the Tongo wheel. There was even a quiet corner where a very intense game of poker was being played. Gambling was the only form of recreation on this planet, and "Nik's" provided a large variety.
A familiar face with a shock of orange hair greeted him as he made his way to the bar. "Harry," Neelix called, "how are you? I haven't seen you around in a couple of days. Starfleet is working you way too hard," added the congenial bartender.
Seated now at the long, polished ebony bar, Kim watched his friend pull a tall glass of ale from one of the large vats that lined the wall behind the bar, "I'm fine Neelix, just been busy preparing for a state visit by some Starfleet brass."
"Ooh, anyone I know?" Neelix asked as he sat the glass in front of Harry.
"I don't even know who's coming. I just got word that there would be a visit soon and I'd better be ready for it. Files in order, office ship- shape and no internal conflicts in the settlement. Everyone needs to be behaving." Kim gave the exuberant Talaxian a searching look.
"Why would you think that I was involved in any conflict, Lieutenant?"
"Call it instinct, Neelix. Just keep it quiet while the brass is here, okay?"
"Anything you say, sir." Neelix grinned at his companion.
A Bolian who entered the bar at that moment diverted their attention. His name was Chiff and he was a schemer, always looking for a get-rich-quick idea and swearing that he would some day have enough money to return to Bolius IX a wealthy man. He glanced furtively around and immediately made his way to the back room. The well-dressed Ferengi guard at the door was arguing with a Cardassian about his entry into the room when the Bolian came into view and was given the nod to enter. The Cardassian began to shout, "How dare you try to keep me out of here? I know there is gambling in there, I have gambled my way across two quadrants and you are not going to keep me out of this place."
The tall, blond man sitting at the booth in the furthest corner of the room glanced up at the commotion and surveyed the situation. With a sardonic smile he shook his head, a gesture which infuriated the Cardassian even more. He began to push his way past the Ferengi causing the blond man to leave his comfortable seat and move towards the door. Dressed in a loose fitting black jacket over a simple black shirt and brown, baggy pants, he moved with the ease of an athlete. Looking squarely at the Cardassian and speaking softly he said, "No one gets in here without my okay, and you are not going to get my okay. The bar is open to you and nothing else. Understand?" His question was congenial, his blue eyes hard.
"Who are you to tell me whether or not I can come in? I want to talk to the owner. Where's Nik?" the angry man shouted.
"I own this place. Nik is dealing at the Tongo table and has no say whatsoever in who I allow into my bar or my casino." The Cardassian looked over at the back wall and saw the Ferengi, Nik, working the wheel just as this stranger had said. With a few choice words he grabbed the sticks of latinum required for entrance out of the guard's hand and returned to the bar to take his anger out on those who were serving drinks there.
Tom Paris watched him go, then slowly turned back around to survey his gambling empire. The tables were full, the customers seemed to be enjoying themselves, and from the look on Nik's face, the profits were well within acceptable parameters tonight. Without a smile he began to silently make his way back to his quiet booth.
The Bolian, Chiff, boldly seated himself across from Tom and signaled the waiter to bring him a drink. Tom raised his eyes from the padd he was studying when Chiff asked, "may I buy you a drink?"
"No thanks, I'm fine." Tom answered and resumed his study.
"I'd like to have what my friend Tom is having," Chiff said when the waiter asked. He was preoccupied with preening himself and missed the small smile that crossed the human's face. When the steaming drink was set before him Chiff puckered his nose at the pungent smell but bravely took a large drink. Tom was openly watching now, curious as to his reaction. The Bolian's blue skin took a decidedly purplish hue as he struggled not to spit out the hot, bitter brew. When he regained some use of his voice he choked out, "What is this black substance that burns your throat and makes the eyes water?"
"It's called coffee, an Earth delicacy." Tom murmured as he returned his attention to his padd. His face still held a faint smile.
"No wonder your race has been so successful in its aggression. I thought the cigarettes and drugs that you shared with other worlds was your most dangerous weapon, I believe that this coffee could be far worse," he said as he gingerly took another sip. His companion's only answer was a nod.
"Tom," the Bolian continued in a soft voice, "I need your help." He anxiously leaned closer to the bar owner causing him to recoil. The smell of a Bolian was sometimes a little hard to get used to.
"I'm not going to tell Nik to let you win at the Tongo table, Chiff. You have to take your chances like everyone else." The data padd still seemed to have a fascinating hold on him.
Chiff reached out his hand and covered the face of the padd knowing that would get Tom's attention. The blue eyes raised and looked at him in irritation, silently demanding a reason for this interruption.
"I need you to hold something for me, just for a little while. I have a buyer coming tonight but I need somewhere to hide this information until he comes. I know you dislike me and for some reason that makes me trust you. Will you keep this for me? Just for a while." The Bolian opened his hand just a little so that Tom could see he held a data chip.
"What's on the chip?" Tom asked cautiously.
Chiff leaned in closer, "Cardassian security codes. These codes will allow anyone access through the Cardassian lines. These aren't the random codes that get changed daily. These are the central codes, the ones supplied by the Vorta. They don't even know they've been stolen. The courier is still sending his signal but he's been caught in a plasma storm, and won't be able to deliver them on time, if you know what I mean." The Bolian winked at Tom, or as close to winking as a humanoid with nictitating membranes can accomplish.
Tom thought for a few moments before silently laying his hand on the table next to his coffee cup. Chiff surreptitiously slid the chip over while reaching out to retrieve his own cup. The chip made its way from Tom's palm to his cuff while he took another sip of his now cold coffee. "I need to get this warmed up. See you later," Tom said as he rose from the table.
A blue hand grabbed his arm and colorless eyes looked at him, "I hope this means we're friends, Tom."
Tom carefully pulled his arm away, "I don't want this here overnight, understand?"
"Yes, yes, of course. Thank you," said the Bolian hoarsely. He headed for the gaming tables.
Walking deliberately to the piano in the large main room of the bar, Tom stopped and asked, "How's it going tonight, Doc?" while he slipped the chip into the top of the piano letting it slide between the strings to the bottom with a soft ping. Voyager's doctor, tuxedo clad and still nameless, raised an eyebrow but knew enough not to ask any questions. "When does the show start?" Tom asked.
"As soon as our diva puts in an appearance," the Doctor grumbled.
Tom smiled at the obviously irate hologram, "Now, Doc, we know that with all her faults, Seven is always punctual."
"Well, she has changed the order of the performance tonight at least a dozen times. She can't seem to decide whether she's on Broadway or at a country fair. I wouldn't be surprised if her next venture was Klingon opera." The doctor was so pre-occupied with his fit of pique that he didn't notice the brief look of pain that crossed Tom's face at his words.
Seven of Nine's appearance saved Tom from having to reply. She moved swiftly and efficiently to stand next to Tom at the piano. Still a beautiful woman, Seven had developed a style of her own now. Her hair fell free and looked like spun gold as it swung softly to her shoulders. She'd foresworn the revealing cat-suits, much to the doctor's disappointment. Tonight she was wearing a long diaphanous gown that held just a hint of blue and lit up her eyes, which, Tom noticed, held a good deal of mischief.
He bent slightly to kiss her cheek and said, "Knock 'em dead, Seven."
"Dead patrons would not be economically feasible, Tom," she replied with a straight face.
He answered with a grin and a reminder, "Don't irritate the doc too much. I'm the one that has to listen to him."
"If he would follow instructions regarding his accompaniment to my singing, there would be no source of irritation." Tom shook his head, Seven was consistent, he had to give her credit for that.
The piano began an old familiar tune and Seven began to sing, "On a clear day Rise and look around you And you'll see who you are..."
Tom moved away to watch with a slight smile. His friends had their musical differences. Seven was in a Broadway mode this week and the doctor really felt it was time to enrich her repertoire. He had in mind a little Puccini, a little Verdi, maybe even a some T'Berl, but Seven wasn't ready to move on. Tom grinned as he remembered the agony of listening to country music every night while she studied that particular style. They'd been here a year, long enough for Seven to study several styles of music. Long enough for all of them to feel safe and at home with each other.
The four of them had fled Deep Space Nine shortly after Voyager docked there. Harry had heard from an old friend about Starfleet's plans to debrief and decompile the holographic doctor. His friend also had news of the fate of the Borg, Seven of Nine. She would be taken back to Starfleet Medical and held for research purposes. Apparently the admiralty had already decided "once a Borg, always a Borg" and had no intention of allowing Seven to continue on the road to full humanity. They considered it - her- too great a risk. Harry's frantic plea had forced Tom to ask the help of the Ferengi bartender, Quark, and the underground network that flourished on every space station.
Unsure of his own welcome by the Federation, Neelix had asked to be included in the escape attempt and Quark had been able, for a hefty price, to get the four "voyagers" on a transport away from DS 9 and Starfleet. After a month of working their way across the quadrant using many disguises and means of transportation, they had wound up here in Grethor, an desolate place, appropriately named, Tom had observed wryly. The owner of a bar, Nik, gave them menial jobs at minimal pay but at least it had been an out of the way place to hide for a while. Neelix made an excellent bartender, and Tom an excellent dealer at the card table. It seems "Poker" had become a pastime in many corners of the quadrant.
Nik was a Ferengi, though, and an honest game was not the most profitable game. And so he cheated, most of the time. A late night game with unusually high stakes was his downfall. Tom knew he was cheating and Tom used that knowledge to his advantage, egging Nik on until the stakes were so high that Nik had no choice but to pledge his bar as collateral. And then Tom used his knowledge of Nik's methods to win the hand and the bar. "Never cheat a cheater," he told the Ferengi as Nik signed ownership over to him. Always a gracious winner, Tom offered to let Nik stay and handle the Tongo wheel as long as he kept it relatively honest. Now he had a safe place on a neutral planet where he and Neelix, Doc and Seven could make a life of sorts.
As Seven's song ended, Tom shook his head to clear it of the memories. He had a business to run, and musing over a past life would not keep it running efficiently. Making his way to the bar, he greeted his old friend warmly though he frowned at the uniform. "Harry, I thought we agreed to leave politics outside my bar."
"I just got off duty and I decided to drop by before going home." Harry grinned at his friend. They were a contrast in styles. In spite of his long day, Harry's uniform was crisp, every pip in place. His hair was regulation length, his boots polished, and he looked the epitome of a Starfleet officer.
Tom's hair reached his collar and lay carelessly on his brow. He wore a shaggy moustache and goatee, more because he didn't care for shaving than for any fashion statement. He enjoyed the freedom of baggy clothes and rarely wore anything else. He could look the part of the owner or take his jacket off and make a passable bartender.
"Well, it's good to see you. How do you think Seven's doing tonight?" Tom asked as he gratefully picked up the cup of coffee that Neelix put beside him.
Harry still had a major crush on Seven but she had, as yet, shown no interest in pursuing a relationship, so he just admired her from afar. Tom's question made him blush and he hoped it wasn't visible in the dim light. "Not bad. I take it she's moved to Broadway musicals now?" he asked as the doctor began the introduction to "State Fair." There was a note of regret in Harry's voice. He had actually enjoyed the "country" phase and had hoped it would continue for a while.
"Yeah, she decided yesterday that she was moving on, and has had Doc rehearsing all day. Lucky for me they both have eidetic memories or tonight's performance would probably be a disaster," Tom answered with a smile. Even as they argued, Tom knew he could always count on Seven and the doctor putting on a fine performance.
Harry turned back to the bar and abruptly changed the subject. He needed to tell his friend the real reason for tonight's formal attire. "Tom," he began, "we've got some Starfleet brass coming in to inspect the base in the next couple of days." His tone was hesitant and he knew his friend would not be happy with the news.
Tom hid his irritation well though. "Anyone we know?" he asked as he took another drink of coffee.
"I don't know, I just got word that a small team would be stopping by for an inspection so I'd better have everything ship-shape. They asked me to have quarters ready for three or four people," Harry replied. "I'm sure they just want to make sure no one is collaborating with the Cardassians."
"Harry, I make a profit by keeping this war out of my bar. I don't want anyone telling me how to run my business or hassling my customers." Tom's voice rose a notch.
"I know, Tom. I know. I'm sure it's just a routine inspection. Just a little junket so Starfleet can say they're keeping an eye on the situation. Starfleet has no real authority here. I'm just a peacekeeper, nothing more." Harry's words of assurance were tumbling all over each other.
"Okay, Harry, just remember that when the brass gets here." Tom grumbled.
"I will, Tom, I will." Harry stood and with a nod to Tom said, "I think I'll go play a little Dabo for a while." Tom absently returned the nod as he surveyed the crowd. A little light but certainly adequate for a profit. Many of the patrons seemed a little more tense than usual and the Cardassian who'd been refused admittance to the gambling tables was deep in conversation with another Cardassian at a dark table in a far corner. A Ferengi waiter was hovering nearby.
A commotion at the door of the establishment redirected Tom's attention. Three Starfleet officers had just entered and were obviously looking for someone. One was an officious looking Andorian, middle-aged and a mid-level officer who, from the looks of things, would never rise any higher. The second was a female ensign, human, obviously on her first mission away from home and possibly in her first bar. She looked scared to death. The final officer caused Tom to catch his breath and steel himself with all the self- discipline he could muster. The officer was Admiral Kathryn Janeway. She looked around without noticing him and directed her junior officers to sit at a vacant table. He watched her with his heart in his throat. 'Not now, Tommy boy, do not lose your command mask now.'
Neelix grasped the situation fairly quickly and, with a reassuring pat on Tom's arm, he moved purposefully to the admiral's table.
"Admiral Janeway," he spoke excitedly, while carefully blocking her view of the bar, "what a nice surprise! What are you doing in our little corner of the galaxy? What can I get you to drink? If I do say so myself, my coffee is the best in the Beloti system." His exuberance caught Admiral Janeway off guard as he grabbed her hand and began to shake it.
"Neelix, how nice to see you. I knew you were in the system somewhere but I had no idea you would be in this. establishment. I'm looking for Lt. Kim and I was told he might be here," she responded guardedly to the Talaxian.
"Why I believe he is here somewhere. I'll just have a look and see if I can find him. Can I get you a cup of coffee?"
The admiral had little choice but to agree. Ignoring the other two officers in his excitement, Neelix bustled off leaving the admiral with a faint smile on her face. The smile faded a little when she looked past Neelix to the bar and saw Tom Paris. His expression was unreadable. Neelix had given him the time he needed.
With a word to her companions, Janeway made her way over to the bar slowly, unsure of her welcome. "Tom Paris. It's been a while. How are you?" She held her hand out in a gesture of friendship.
"Admiral Janeway, this is quite a surprise. What brings you to the armpit of the galaxy?" Tom asked guardedly as he accepted her gesture.
"Just a brief inspection tour. As this was Harry's first command I thought I'd come myself and relive a little of the old times."
She hadn't changed, at least as far as Tom could tell. Her eyes were still the color of cold steel and her hair still the burnished umber of old with just an occasional hint of silver. A smile crossed his face as he realized that Arachnia's costume would probably still fit her slender figure to perfection.
A bit disconcerted at his silence, and his small smile, Admiral Janeway continued, "I saw your father before I left Earth. He misses you and asked me to tell you to write your mother more often."
A genuine smile crossed Tom's face. "How was he? And I sent a message to Mom last week on a Ferengi freighter."
"He'd like you to come home, Tom. They both miss you terribly. You could have a good life, away from this place." The admiral added.
"I have a life here, Admiral, and I'm helping a cause."
"What cause is that?" she asked skeptically.
Tom's answered with a smile but his words had a hard edge to them. "My own. I own this bar, and my goal is to provide a place where people can go and forget about their lives, their losses. In my bar there is no war. Everyone can come in and just relax. You might want to try it yourself sometime."
Before the admiral could answer, Harry Kim came rushing over. Neelix had just made him aware of who his state visitor was. "Admiral," he stammered, "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you so soon. Your quarters are all ready, ma'am, I mean sir, I mean Admiral. And I have the man that security asked about under surveillance."
With a gentle hand on his arm the admiral calmed the younger man, "It's alright, Harry. I arrived early. You can show me to the quarters later, after we've had a drink. Now tell me about this man you've been watching."
Oblivious to Tom's presence Harry began to describe the Bolian, Chiff."... and as far as I can tell he hasn't contacted a buyer yet. He must still have the codes on him."
Admiral Janeway glanced at Tom and slowly pulled Harry toward an empty booth. "Let's talk some more about this, Lieutenant. And then I would like to meet this, uh... this courier."
Harry looked at Janeway and then at Tom in some alarm. He instinctively trusted Tom with any information and old habits are hard to break. Tom just gave his friend a half smile and a nod of reassurance as he removed himself from hearing distance. The Admiral watched Tom walk away with a quizzical expression on her face. Shaking her head slightly she returned her attention to Harry. After a short conversation the two of them went looking for Chiff at the gambling tables.
The Bolian appeared to come willingly as he followed Harry through the bar but the sight of Tom seemed to dispel his sense of calm. "Tom," he called, "you must help me. Tell them I'm simply a customer, just like all the others."
Before Tom could answer, Chiff had pulled a disruptor out of his pocket and was aiming it at the admiral. The ensign who had accompanied her into the bar was quicker though and soon the Bolian was stunned and lying in a blue heap on the floor. The other customers were standing and moving away in alarm while Harry and the young woman pulled Chiff to his feet and began to drag him out of the bar.
Tom hurried to reassure his patrons, "It's okay, folks, all the excitement is over. Just a little misunderstanding. Go on back to your tables. Doc, how about a little music?"
Anger filled Tom's face as he faced the admiral, "What the hell was that for? I told you to leave your war outside."
Janeway could barely drag her eyes away from the doctor calmly sitting at the piano, playing as if nothing had happened. Her breath caught as she looked up to see Seven of Nine staring at her with cold blue eyes from her position next to the doctor. Tom's voice broke through though, and she shook her head to clear it. Fixing her eyes on his she answered icily, "If you want to keep the war outside, Mr. Paris, then I suggest that you don't harbor criminals in your bar."
With deliberate irony Tom replied, "If everyone who had ever been accused of a crime was asked to leave, my bar would be empty right now."
*** The atmosphere and the noise level in the bar had returned to normal, the ugly scene with the Bolian forgotten by most. The Doctor and Seven had resumed their performance, and Tom had returned to the back room where the gambling tables remained untouched by the unpleasantness. Neelix was listening sympathetically to a new group of refugees and barely noticed the opening and closing of the front doors of the establishment. However, something caught his attention. Maybe it was the audible gasp from Seven of Nine in the middle of her rendition of "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina". Or maybe it was just instinct that caused him to look up and see the two new guests seating themselves at a table in the far corner. Commander, now Captain Chakotay of the Maquis, and B'Elanna Torres. "Oh my, oh my," the little Talaxian murmured, "it never rains but it pours."
To be continued..
Thanks to BR, B'Arb, Starburst and Dasia for the beta. Dedicated to Harmonic Convergence.
Certain people might notice a similarity to the story line of Casablanca, a movie from the 1940's and one of the best movies ever made. Yes, I did blatantly steal the plot but I added a few Star Trek twists. No apologies, I had a great time doing it!
Nik's Place
Chapter 1
The planet Beloti was an arid world on the edge of Cardassian space. It was a stopping place for the refugees from the Dominion War. Thousands of men, women and children, fleeing planets that had been overrun, some utterly destroyed. Most of the refugees stayed on the edge of the planet's main continent since it was near the main source of water. Small oases in the heart of the planet attracted the very adventurous but those were few and far between. The Cardassians seemingly saw no value in this particular planet since it had little water, few mineral resources, and a population of misfits, drunks and outcasts.
The main town was called "Grethor," Klingon hell; an apt name for a place where the inhabitants cursed their luck and sold their souls to get out. A visitor to this town would see nothing but grim gray buildings wedged together along hot, narrow streets and back alleyways. The streets were teeming with life but this town had little to offer the weary traveler - a few merchants, dingy, crowded hotels and dozens of seedy bars where the fugitives could gather to commiserate or bargain for passage to another world, and a more hopeful future.
Starfleet also saw little value to this far off planet but it kept a small base there as a reminder to the Cardassians that they had agreed to leave this world alone. Lieutenant Harry Kim had been assigned to maintain that base. It wasn't exactly a plum assignment but Kim had more experience with first contact situations than most at his rank. He'd also seen his share of deep space and combat. Those were the official reasons he was offered the command. The real reason was that Ensign Kim had been part of the Voyager fiasco and it's consequent political debacle.
The return of Voyager after nearly four years lost in the Delta quadrant saw the Maquis members of the crew arrested and detained aboard Deep Space 9, only narrowly escaping deportation to trial on Earth. The Starfleet crew had been hailed as heroes but their protests over the treatment of their crewmates had brought embarrassment to the admirals at headquarters, and the returning "heroes" were soon sent on to other posts, separate and distant from each other. Only Captain Kathryn Janeway had maintained the facade of returning hero. She was feted and paraded, promoted to Admiral, and given a desk job at Starfleet Headquarters.
Lt. Kim couldn't spare much time to worry about his Starfleet career though. His first command offered enough challenges to keep him frantically busy on this godforsaken pile of sand, so close but so far from the real action of the war. Tonight however, things were going smoothly and he left his office in the care of an ensign while he made his way to "Nik's Place," the hottest spot in the town of Grethor.
Nik's Place was primarily a bar, but it featured entertainment and gambling, pretty Dabo girls and alcohol - lots of alcohol. In fact, with water so short on this planet, alcohol was a mainstay in most everyone's diet. But Harry didn't go for the drinks although he did occasionally indulge. And he didn't go for the girls -- well, maybe the girls were a high point. He went because he had friends there. Old friends who'd been through hell with him and had escaped to a bar on the planet of Beloti.
The wide double doors of the large white-washed building welcomed Harry as he pushed through them into the smoke filled room. The Federation may have been able to eliminate the use of tobacco and drugs on the home planets but the outlying worlds still held on to the old vices. The rise and fall of hundreds of voices from every backwater planet in the galaxy greeted him. Harry thought it was a miracle that his universal translator didn't short circuit every time he came to this place. The multi-species band was playing softly. It was always a source of amazement to him how such a conglomerate of instruments and musical styles could produce any kind of tolerable sound, but they did. They weren't exactly a joy to listen to, but they were an adequate diversion in a war torn world. He took the opportunity to acknowledge the piano player with a smile and was rewarded with the royal wave.
The rattling of dice, crackling of cards and shouts from the gambling tables in the back room could be clearly heard. Harry knew that behind the door Dabo girls were flirting with customers at their tables, and the cries of "Acquire" and "Confront" came from the Tongo wheel. There was even a quiet corner where a very intense game of poker was being played. Gambling was the only form of recreation on this planet, and "Nik's" provided a large variety.
A familiar face with a shock of orange hair greeted him as he made his way to the bar. "Harry," Neelix called, "how are you? I haven't seen you around in a couple of days. Starfleet is working you way too hard," added the congenial bartender.
Seated now at the long, polished ebony bar, Kim watched his friend pull a tall glass of ale from one of the large vats that lined the wall behind the bar, "I'm fine Neelix, just been busy preparing for a state visit by some Starfleet brass."
"Ooh, anyone I know?" Neelix asked as he sat the glass in front of Harry.
"I don't even know who's coming. I just got word that there would be a visit soon and I'd better be ready for it. Files in order, office ship- shape and no internal conflicts in the settlement. Everyone needs to be behaving." Kim gave the exuberant Talaxian a searching look.
"Why would you think that I was involved in any conflict, Lieutenant?"
"Call it instinct, Neelix. Just keep it quiet while the brass is here, okay?"
"Anything you say, sir." Neelix grinned at his companion.
A Bolian who entered the bar at that moment diverted their attention. His name was Chiff and he was a schemer, always looking for a get-rich-quick idea and swearing that he would some day have enough money to return to Bolius IX a wealthy man. He glanced furtively around and immediately made his way to the back room. The well-dressed Ferengi guard at the door was arguing with a Cardassian about his entry into the room when the Bolian came into view and was given the nod to enter. The Cardassian began to shout, "How dare you try to keep me out of here? I know there is gambling in there, I have gambled my way across two quadrants and you are not going to keep me out of this place."
The tall, blond man sitting at the booth in the furthest corner of the room glanced up at the commotion and surveyed the situation. With a sardonic smile he shook his head, a gesture which infuriated the Cardassian even more. He began to push his way past the Ferengi causing the blond man to leave his comfortable seat and move towards the door. Dressed in a loose fitting black jacket over a simple black shirt and brown, baggy pants, he moved with the ease of an athlete. Looking squarely at the Cardassian and speaking softly he said, "No one gets in here without my okay, and you are not going to get my okay. The bar is open to you and nothing else. Understand?" His question was congenial, his blue eyes hard.
"Who are you to tell me whether or not I can come in? I want to talk to the owner. Where's Nik?" the angry man shouted.
"I own this place. Nik is dealing at the Tongo table and has no say whatsoever in who I allow into my bar or my casino." The Cardassian looked over at the back wall and saw the Ferengi, Nik, working the wheel just as this stranger had said. With a few choice words he grabbed the sticks of latinum required for entrance out of the guard's hand and returned to the bar to take his anger out on those who were serving drinks there.
Tom Paris watched him go, then slowly turned back around to survey his gambling empire. The tables were full, the customers seemed to be enjoying themselves, and from the look on Nik's face, the profits were well within acceptable parameters tonight. Without a smile he began to silently make his way back to his quiet booth.
The Bolian, Chiff, boldly seated himself across from Tom and signaled the waiter to bring him a drink. Tom raised his eyes from the padd he was studying when Chiff asked, "may I buy you a drink?"
"No thanks, I'm fine." Tom answered and resumed his study.
"I'd like to have what my friend Tom is having," Chiff said when the waiter asked. He was preoccupied with preening himself and missed the small smile that crossed the human's face. When the steaming drink was set before him Chiff puckered his nose at the pungent smell but bravely took a large drink. Tom was openly watching now, curious as to his reaction. The Bolian's blue skin took a decidedly purplish hue as he struggled not to spit out the hot, bitter brew. When he regained some use of his voice he choked out, "What is this black substance that burns your throat and makes the eyes water?"
"It's called coffee, an Earth delicacy." Tom murmured as he returned his attention to his padd. His face still held a faint smile.
"No wonder your race has been so successful in its aggression. I thought the cigarettes and drugs that you shared with other worlds was your most dangerous weapon, I believe that this coffee could be far worse," he said as he gingerly took another sip. His companion's only answer was a nod.
"Tom," the Bolian continued in a soft voice, "I need your help." He anxiously leaned closer to the bar owner causing him to recoil. The smell of a Bolian was sometimes a little hard to get used to.
"I'm not going to tell Nik to let you win at the Tongo table, Chiff. You have to take your chances like everyone else." The data padd still seemed to have a fascinating hold on him.
Chiff reached out his hand and covered the face of the padd knowing that would get Tom's attention. The blue eyes raised and looked at him in irritation, silently demanding a reason for this interruption.
"I need you to hold something for me, just for a little while. I have a buyer coming tonight but I need somewhere to hide this information until he comes. I know you dislike me and for some reason that makes me trust you. Will you keep this for me? Just for a while." The Bolian opened his hand just a little so that Tom could see he held a data chip.
"What's on the chip?" Tom asked cautiously.
Chiff leaned in closer, "Cardassian security codes. These codes will allow anyone access through the Cardassian lines. These aren't the random codes that get changed daily. These are the central codes, the ones supplied by the Vorta. They don't even know they've been stolen. The courier is still sending his signal but he's been caught in a plasma storm, and won't be able to deliver them on time, if you know what I mean." The Bolian winked at Tom, or as close to winking as a humanoid with nictitating membranes can accomplish.
Tom thought for a few moments before silently laying his hand on the table next to his coffee cup. Chiff surreptitiously slid the chip over while reaching out to retrieve his own cup. The chip made its way from Tom's palm to his cuff while he took another sip of his now cold coffee. "I need to get this warmed up. See you later," Tom said as he rose from the table.
A blue hand grabbed his arm and colorless eyes looked at him, "I hope this means we're friends, Tom."
Tom carefully pulled his arm away, "I don't want this here overnight, understand?"
"Yes, yes, of course. Thank you," said the Bolian hoarsely. He headed for the gaming tables.
Walking deliberately to the piano in the large main room of the bar, Tom stopped and asked, "How's it going tonight, Doc?" while he slipped the chip into the top of the piano letting it slide between the strings to the bottom with a soft ping. Voyager's doctor, tuxedo clad and still nameless, raised an eyebrow but knew enough not to ask any questions. "When does the show start?" Tom asked.
"As soon as our diva puts in an appearance," the Doctor grumbled.
Tom smiled at the obviously irate hologram, "Now, Doc, we know that with all her faults, Seven is always punctual."
"Well, she has changed the order of the performance tonight at least a dozen times. She can't seem to decide whether she's on Broadway or at a country fair. I wouldn't be surprised if her next venture was Klingon opera." The doctor was so pre-occupied with his fit of pique that he didn't notice the brief look of pain that crossed Tom's face at his words.
Seven of Nine's appearance saved Tom from having to reply. She moved swiftly and efficiently to stand next to Tom at the piano. Still a beautiful woman, Seven had developed a style of her own now. Her hair fell free and looked like spun gold as it swung softly to her shoulders. She'd foresworn the revealing cat-suits, much to the doctor's disappointment. Tonight she was wearing a long diaphanous gown that held just a hint of blue and lit up her eyes, which, Tom noticed, held a good deal of mischief.
He bent slightly to kiss her cheek and said, "Knock 'em dead, Seven."
"Dead patrons would not be economically feasible, Tom," she replied with a straight face.
He answered with a grin and a reminder, "Don't irritate the doc too much. I'm the one that has to listen to him."
"If he would follow instructions regarding his accompaniment to my singing, there would be no source of irritation." Tom shook his head, Seven was consistent, he had to give her credit for that.
The piano began an old familiar tune and Seven began to sing, "On a clear day Rise and look around you And you'll see who you are..."
Tom moved away to watch with a slight smile. His friends had their musical differences. Seven was in a Broadway mode this week and the doctor really felt it was time to enrich her repertoire. He had in mind a little Puccini, a little Verdi, maybe even a some T'Berl, but Seven wasn't ready to move on. Tom grinned as he remembered the agony of listening to country music every night while she studied that particular style. They'd been here a year, long enough for Seven to study several styles of music. Long enough for all of them to feel safe and at home with each other.
The four of them had fled Deep Space Nine shortly after Voyager docked there. Harry had heard from an old friend about Starfleet's plans to debrief and decompile the holographic doctor. His friend also had news of the fate of the Borg, Seven of Nine. She would be taken back to Starfleet Medical and held for research purposes. Apparently the admiralty had already decided "once a Borg, always a Borg" and had no intention of allowing Seven to continue on the road to full humanity. They considered it - her- too great a risk. Harry's frantic plea had forced Tom to ask the help of the Ferengi bartender, Quark, and the underground network that flourished on every space station.
Unsure of his own welcome by the Federation, Neelix had asked to be included in the escape attempt and Quark had been able, for a hefty price, to get the four "voyagers" on a transport away from DS 9 and Starfleet. After a month of working their way across the quadrant using many disguises and means of transportation, they had wound up here in Grethor, an desolate place, appropriately named, Tom had observed wryly. The owner of a bar, Nik, gave them menial jobs at minimal pay but at least it had been an out of the way place to hide for a while. Neelix made an excellent bartender, and Tom an excellent dealer at the card table. It seems "Poker" had become a pastime in many corners of the quadrant.
Nik was a Ferengi, though, and an honest game was not the most profitable game. And so he cheated, most of the time. A late night game with unusually high stakes was his downfall. Tom knew he was cheating and Tom used that knowledge to his advantage, egging Nik on until the stakes were so high that Nik had no choice but to pledge his bar as collateral. And then Tom used his knowledge of Nik's methods to win the hand and the bar. "Never cheat a cheater," he told the Ferengi as Nik signed ownership over to him. Always a gracious winner, Tom offered to let Nik stay and handle the Tongo wheel as long as he kept it relatively honest. Now he had a safe place on a neutral planet where he and Neelix, Doc and Seven could make a life of sorts.
As Seven's song ended, Tom shook his head to clear it of the memories. He had a business to run, and musing over a past life would not keep it running efficiently. Making his way to the bar, he greeted his old friend warmly though he frowned at the uniform. "Harry, I thought we agreed to leave politics outside my bar."
"I just got off duty and I decided to drop by before going home." Harry grinned at his friend. They were a contrast in styles. In spite of his long day, Harry's uniform was crisp, every pip in place. His hair was regulation length, his boots polished, and he looked the epitome of a Starfleet officer.
Tom's hair reached his collar and lay carelessly on his brow. He wore a shaggy moustache and goatee, more because he didn't care for shaving than for any fashion statement. He enjoyed the freedom of baggy clothes and rarely wore anything else. He could look the part of the owner or take his jacket off and make a passable bartender.
"Well, it's good to see you. How do you think Seven's doing tonight?" Tom asked as he gratefully picked up the cup of coffee that Neelix put beside him.
Harry still had a major crush on Seven but she had, as yet, shown no interest in pursuing a relationship, so he just admired her from afar. Tom's question made him blush and he hoped it wasn't visible in the dim light. "Not bad. I take it she's moved to Broadway musicals now?" he asked as the doctor began the introduction to "State Fair." There was a note of regret in Harry's voice. He had actually enjoyed the "country" phase and had hoped it would continue for a while.
"Yeah, she decided yesterday that she was moving on, and has had Doc rehearsing all day. Lucky for me they both have eidetic memories or tonight's performance would probably be a disaster," Tom answered with a smile. Even as they argued, Tom knew he could always count on Seven and the doctor putting on a fine performance.
Harry turned back to the bar and abruptly changed the subject. He needed to tell his friend the real reason for tonight's formal attire. "Tom," he began, "we've got some Starfleet brass coming in to inspect the base in the next couple of days." His tone was hesitant and he knew his friend would not be happy with the news.
Tom hid his irritation well though. "Anyone we know?" he asked as he took another drink of coffee.
"I don't know, I just got word that a small team would be stopping by for an inspection so I'd better have everything ship-shape. They asked me to have quarters ready for three or four people," Harry replied. "I'm sure they just want to make sure no one is collaborating with the Cardassians."
"Harry, I make a profit by keeping this war out of my bar. I don't want anyone telling me how to run my business or hassling my customers." Tom's voice rose a notch.
"I know, Tom. I know. I'm sure it's just a routine inspection. Just a little junket so Starfleet can say they're keeping an eye on the situation. Starfleet has no real authority here. I'm just a peacekeeper, nothing more." Harry's words of assurance were tumbling all over each other.
"Okay, Harry, just remember that when the brass gets here." Tom grumbled.
"I will, Tom, I will." Harry stood and with a nod to Tom said, "I think I'll go play a little Dabo for a while." Tom absently returned the nod as he surveyed the crowd. A little light but certainly adequate for a profit. Many of the patrons seemed a little more tense than usual and the Cardassian who'd been refused admittance to the gambling tables was deep in conversation with another Cardassian at a dark table in a far corner. A Ferengi waiter was hovering nearby.
A commotion at the door of the establishment redirected Tom's attention. Three Starfleet officers had just entered and were obviously looking for someone. One was an officious looking Andorian, middle-aged and a mid-level officer who, from the looks of things, would never rise any higher. The second was a female ensign, human, obviously on her first mission away from home and possibly in her first bar. She looked scared to death. The final officer caused Tom to catch his breath and steel himself with all the self- discipline he could muster. The officer was Admiral Kathryn Janeway. She looked around without noticing him and directed her junior officers to sit at a vacant table. He watched her with his heart in his throat. 'Not now, Tommy boy, do not lose your command mask now.'
Neelix grasped the situation fairly quickly and, with a reassuring pat on Tom's arm, he moved purposefully to the admiral's table.
"Admiral Janeway," he spoke excitedly, while carefully blocking her view of the bar, "what a nice surprise! What are you doing in our little corner of the galaxy? What can I get you to drink? If I do say so myself, my coffee is the best in the Beloti system." His exuberance caught Admiral Janeway off guard as he grabbed her hand and began to shake it.
"Neelix, how nice to see you. I knew you were in the system somewhere but I had no idea you would be in this. establishment. I'm looking for Lt. Kim and I was told he might be here," she responded guardedly to the Talaxian.
"Why I believe he is here somewhere. I'll just have a look and see if I can find him. Can I get you a cup of coffee?"
The admiral had little choice but to agree. Ignoring the other two officers in his excitement, Neelix bustled off leaving the admiral with a faint smile on her face. The smile faded a little when she looked past Neelix to the bar and saw Tom Paris. His expression was unreadable. Neelix had given him the time he needed.
With a word to her companions, Janeway made her way over to the bar slowly, unsure of her welcome. "Tom Paris. It's been a while. How are you?" She held her hand out in a gesture of friendship.
"Admiral Janeway, this is quite a surprise. What brings you to the armpit of the galaxy?" Tom asked guardedly as he accepted her gesture.
"Just a brief inspection tour. As this was Harry's first command I thought I'd come myself and relive a little of the old times."
She hadn't changed, at least as far as Tom could tell. Her eyes were still the color of cold steel and her hair still the burnished umber of old with just an occasional hint of silver. A smile crossed his face as he realized that Arachnia's costume would probably still fit her slender figure to perfection.
A bit disconcerted at his silence, and his small smile, Admiral Janeway continued, "I saw your father before I left Earth. He misses you and asked me to tell you to write your mother more often."
A genuine smile crossed Tom's face. "How was he? And I sent a message to Mom last week on a Ferengi freighter."
"He'd like you to come home, Tom. They both miss you terribly. You could have a good life, away from this place." The admiral added.
"I have a life here, Admiral, and I'm helping a cause."
"What cause is that?" she asked skeptically.
Tom's answered with a smile but his words had a hard edge to them. "My own. I own this bar, and my goal is to provide a place where people can go and forget about their lives, their losses. In my bar there is no war. Everyone can come in and just relax. You might want to try it yourself sometime."
Before the admiral could answer, Harry Kim came rushing over. Neelix had just made him aware of who his state visitor was. "Admiral," he stammered, "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you so soon. Your quarters are all ready, ma'am, I mean sir, I mean Admiral. And I have the man that security asked about under surveillance."
With a gentle hand on his arm the admiral calmed the younger man, "It's alright, Harry. I arrived early. You can show me to the quarters later, after we've had a drink. Now tell me about this man you've been watching."
Oblivious to Tom's presence Harry began to describe the Bolian, Chiff."... and as far as I can tell he hasn't contacted a buyer yet. He must still have the codes on him."
Admiral Janeway glanced at Tom and slowly pulled Harry toward an empty booth. "Let's talk some more about this, Lieutenant. And then I would like to meet this, uh... this courier."
Harry looked at Janeway and then at Tom in some alarm. He instinctively trusted Tom with any information and old habits are hard to break. Tom just gave his friend a half smile and a nod of reassurance as he removed himself from hearing distance. The Admiral watched Tom walk away with a quizzical expression on her face. Shaking her head slightly she returned her attention to Harry. After a short conversation the two of them went looking for Chiff at the gambling tables.
The Bolian appeared to come willingly as he followed Harry through the bar but the sight of Tom seemed to dispel his sense of calm. "Tom," he called, "you must help me. Tell them I'm simply a customer, just like all the others."
Before Tom could answer, Chiff had pulled a disruptor out of his pocket and was aiming it at the admiral. The ensign who had accompanied her into the bar was quicker though and soon the Bolian was stunned and lying in a blue heap on the floor. The other customers were standing and moving away in alarm while Harry and the young woman pulled Chiff to his feet and began to drag him out of the bar.
Tom hurried to reassure his patrons, "It's okay, folks, all the excitement is over. Just a little misunderstanding. Go on back to your tables. Doc, how about a little music?"
Anger filled Tom's face as he faced the admiral, "What the hell was that for? I told you to leave your war outside."
Janeway could barely drag her eyes away from the doctor calmly sitting at the piano, playing as if nothing had happened. Her breath caught as she looked up to see Seven of Nine staring at her with cold blue eyes from her position next to the doctor. Tom's voice broke through though, and she shook her head to clear it. Fixing her eyes on his she answered icily, "If you want to keep the war outside, Mr. Paris, then I suggest that you don't harbor criminals in your bar."
With deliberate irony Tom replied, "If everyone who had ever been accused of a crime was asked to leave, my bar would be empty right now."
*** The atmosphere and the noise level in the bar had returned to normal, the ugly scene with the Bolian forgotten by most. The Doctor and Seven had resumed their performance, and Tom had returned to the back room where the gambling tables remained untouched by the unpleasantness. Neelix was listening sympathetically to a new group of refugees and barely noticed the opening and closing of the front doors of the establishment. However, something caught his attention. Maybe it was the audible gasp from Seven of Nine in the middle of her rendition of "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina". Or maybe it was just instinct that caused him to look up and see the two new guests seating themselves at a table in the far corner. Commander, now Captain Chakotay of the Maquis, and B'Elanna Torres. "Oh my, oh my," the little Talaxian murmured, "it never rains but it pours."
To be continued..