Notes: Thank you all so much for continuing to read this story and sending me all of your wonderful feedback! I'm going to try and wrap this sucker up soon so you don't have to wait another year to find out what happens I only hope that it meets your expectations in the end. I apologize for all the bad grammar and such, I've never been good in that area and I have no beta reader. I also apologize if my writing style fluctuates throughout chapters, but I'm sure you all know how styles can change depending on your mood.
All of your encouraging comments have finally made me feel guilty enough to get a move on and I hope you continue to enjoy this story
Chapter 10
"And the things you said to me today, changed my perspective in every way" – The Cranberries
It had been three earth standard days since Voyager had left the Widariats home world and things were running smoothly. Tom had been given a comfortably sized home within a tree that was only five minutes walk from Tirzri'wa's own home. He had dinner with his friends' family for two of the three evenings he'd been here, and while the food was good, it lacked in the colour he'd grown accustomed to dishes having onboard Voyager. Tirzri'wa's two children had been fascinated by Tom, which had greatly amused him. While the Widariats were an extremely well rounded culture that accepted many different alien species to visit their world, it was apparent that any aliens choosing to live on their planet remained much closer to the big cities. Tom was the only non-Widariat within this community.
They had thought it highly amusing that Tom couldn't hold a conversation and eat at the same time and had been told off twice for laughing at the dinner table while Tirzri'wa and his partner waited patiently for him to swallow before answering a question. Tirzri'wa's life partner was called Anj'azi, and Tom was astounded by the beautiful magenta colour her own feathers comprised of. Standing beside the two of them Tom felt extremely pale, though his lack of feathers caused just as much fascination from anyone who passed him. The young ones, Raj and Shan (who had not yet come of the age to gain the second half of their name) had taken an instant liking to petting his hair whenever given the chance. Seeing as he was so tall they took to trying to climb up his back to reach when their parents weren't looking. Tom loved it; it had been so long since he'd been around children (with exception to Naomi who was still too young to be performing such mischief) that he soaked up their attention. Both children sprouted a speckled feather covering of magenta and bright orange, not yet old enough to mature into either their father or mothers colouring. They'd asked Tom, the second time he came over for dinner, what his children would look like since he didn't have any feathers but that his mate might. He'd choked, along with Tirzri'wa, on his Prap juice at the thought of such a mixture and was able to avoid answering the question by jumping up to help Tirzri'wa clear the table of its dishes.
It had been so busy since the departure of Voyager that he hadn't had time to really sit down and think about anything. Everything was so new and exciting that it was impossible to feel any remorse at his decision. He knew it would only be a matter of days before the full impact of this decision hit him; when he wanted to tell Harry about what he'd been up to or bounce around ideas with the brilliant operations officer. There wouldn't be any more games of hockey or having quiet drinks in Sandrine's. He would miss his conversations with Kes, Neelix and the Doctor, and the encouraging words from Captain Janeway. He knew he had made the right decision to leave, because he couldn't stay on Voyager without the accusing stares, practical jokes, room trashing and harsh comments getting to him. He had been slowly dying there, despite how much Harry had been there for him and tried to help. He had reached his limit. If it were possible he would have just taken an extended leave of absence, but seeing as he couldn't detain Voyager for the few months away there was no alternate choice.
Until he truly started to miss her though, Tom was treating this as a sort of working vacation. Tirzr'wa, who was highly respected in his field for studying spacial occurrences and pretty much every other phenomenon that takes place within outer space and on various planets and moons, had high connections within the governing body. Anj'azi, who worked as an engineer for special projects, had connections within the space programs. Tom, with piloting skills unmatched on Voyager, was also considered extremely gifted on Widaria, and through the three of them he landed a high profile job as a test pilot for experimental spacecraft. It was a dream job for him, and considering how advanced they were in space flight their ships were unmatched by most he'd ever seen.
Certainly the federation had come up with highly advanced ships but they had not yet positively agreed on sanctioning the use of AI in aircrafts. As Tom found out on his second day on their planet, the Widariats used AI technology to a certain extent in all of their aircraft. Of course the level of integration differed in each craft pending on the purpose of it's design, and they never allowed anyone to be linked personally to an AI, fearing the possible brain damage such an endeavor could incur. Tom had drooled when he'd began looking at all the different models of ships he would be required to learn to fly before beginning on the more current projects. On the third night on this planet, trudging home along the tree branch sidewalks, only paying half a mind to not falling off of the towering pathways, Tom began to get nervous about the next morning. It was his first day at work and he knew he had to begin proving his skills all over again. The people on Voyager had known he was good, however he feared the reactions of the Widariats to having an off worlder working along side them without ever having attended their schools.
He entered his home and shut the solid door. There was no need for locks within this community, which put Tom on edge despite how safe he knew this area was. After so many years of being locked in or locking others out of his life he had grown accustomed to the security. Alone in his new dwelling his paranoia was able to get the better of him. He couldn't stop himself from setting up a rudimentary alarm system; placing a toy ball that jingled loudly at the slightest movement (a childs toy) at the base of his main door and his bedroom door. Placing sticks with bells on the ends through the handles of his securely closed windows… he felt shame for being fearful, but he was not about to risk his security just because he was told the neighbourhood was safe. He'd felt safe before and had suffered some of the worst experiences of his life.
His home was cozy, and oddly enough the faint swaying of the tree when it was windy comforted him. He was used to sleeping on Voyager and the constant hum of the engines and the continuous course changes had created a very faint movement that he had grown accustomed to. His bedroom consisted of a twin-sized bed that's base was hewn from the actual wood of the tree. As in most homes they were designed for maximum comfort as well as efficiency. The shelves were designed and carved directly into the wall, counters and tables were also carved from the tree itself, but all surfaces were treated with specific glazes and plasters to make for smooth, heat resistant, and well-finished surfaces. All the homes smelt like trees, and they were all beautiful.
Tom's closet was small, but he didn't own very many clothes. He also had a dresser and night table in his room. Everything in this community was solar powered and fairly basic as far as technology went. Tirzri'wa had apologized for this; he had chosen to live here to have an escape from technology, seeing as he was surrounded by it on a daily basis. Simplicity is calming, he had said, and Tom hadn't minded. They had all the comforts necessary, such as excellent waste disposal, energy, cooking appliances much like a stove and oven that Tom was familiar with. A small cooling cube, audio entertainment system (Which played some really weird music. Tom was glad he'd though to bring along his own supply), lights, heat and everything else necessary. As a housewarming gift Anj'azi had given him some brightly coloured curtains and liquids he could use in the shower. Tom had brought a rather large supply of shampoo with him (seeing as they didn't need to wash their hair) and hoped that these liquids would be able to have the same results, otherwise he'd have to start designing his own brand.
After he set up his alarm system he changed and crawled under his covers, gratefully sinking into the mattresses softness. He fell asleep quickly, hoping against hope that he would be able to have a dreamless sleep for the third night in a row.
Tirzri'wa had brought the human to Mana'ri's building five minutes early that morning, which had irritated him, though he made sure not to show it. He was sure Tirzri'wa knew how he felt about having the human fast tracked through the system the way he had, and he knew the being could sense his annoyance. When heard they had arrived he left his office and traveled to the main floor to greet the newest pilot under his observance. The Human had smiled and nodded his head as was customary and Mana'ri did the same, gazing in slight curiosity at the being. His features weren't as harsh as some he had met, in fact they were fairly shapeless, lacking any ridges, folds, or excessive protrusions. The only thing sticking out had been what he'd assumed was a breathing appendage in the middle of his face. He had a light fur on his head and pale flesh. His eyes were a stunning blue, and Mana'ri determined instantly that that was his most interesting feature.
Oddly enough he did not sense any particular emotions coming from this being, and while he was not nearly as strong in telepathy as Tirzri'wa, he did have some empathic skills. He would discuss this peculiar phenomenon with Tirzri'wa later. He nodded at the human and asked him to follow. Silently he took him to the other end of the building where he entered an observation room with a large glass wall that looked over a hangar with, currently, twenty-eight different crafts. He felt a glimmer of interest from the being before it was shielded abruptly.
"Tom, this is hangar three. We have nine more scattered throughout this facility, which you will be shown later. You will understand that while you have joined us with excellent credentials we have no real knowledge of your skill and knowledge level." Tom was nodding, as though agreeing with him, but his eyes were focused outside the glass, scanning the ships intently. Mana'ri frowned, not sure how to interpret this action, was the human not listening to him at all or was he hearing everything but simply enraptured by the vision. True it was impressive if one was not familiar with walking though it every day.
"Therefore we will have to give you a basic examination on our technologies that will be mainly oral and you will have your mechanic and flight abilities tested in hypothetical rooms before being allowed to fly one of our ships."
"It would be irresponsible if you expected anything less." The human responded and looked over to meet his eye. "When can I start?"
"When you have studied enough."
"I'm ready now. I've been camped in my accommodations studying the technologies and blue prints of these ships. I'm ready." It was a bold statement but this human was all business and, apparently, eager to begin flying. He stared into those blue eyes intently, not seeing anything but a drive to get started. His annoyance arose once more at the fact that this man thought he could understand their ships from three days of study. It was ridiculous, of course, but if he wanted to start right away than so be it. It would simply speed up the process of having him dismissed from the project, because Mana'ri did not think he had the necessary skills, despite what Tirzri'wa said. Together they headed towards the sim room. Maki'naj would meet them there and they could proceed.
The nightmares had returned and Tom found himself taking walks through the sun lit trees when he should have been in bed resting. He had been here two and a half Widaria days, which equaled to just about seven and a half earth days. He could no longer deny that he missed Harry, or that he missed being in space, despite the fact that he had flown in space the last three earth days. He had quickly gained Mana'ri and Maki'naj's friendship after he had proven himself worthy of their program. He had been there for only three days and they had begun treating him like a brother. Tirzri'wa said that this was the way of most Widariat's, to adopt a stranger so quickly. It was apparent that they could read his emotions, just as the delegates on Voyager had done, and they determined he was trustworthy. He had dropped most of his emotional shields on his second shift with Mana'ri, because he sensed his lack of apparent emotion disturbed the being.
Despite his sleeping patterns being much more frequent than anyone else they had worked him a manageable timetable. The AI technology was incredible and, sensing his interest, they had focused him on learning exactly how it worked, seeing as he had no problem flying any of their ships despite the alien technology. He was extremely glad that he'd spent all those extra years learning in depth computer technology on top of his piloting, engineering and astrometrics studies while growing up.
His father had him training for Starfleet entrance exams when he was only thirteen, by the time he was fourteen he could understand everything he needed to know to pass. He'd become bored, and began searching for more knowledge, in anything he could get his hands on. Learning was easy for him, it seemed to come as naturally as breathing. He'd managed to bypass Starfleet security and enter into any computer within Starfleet Headquarters that he wanted by the time he was fifteen. When he turned sixteen he realized that having this knowledge was dangerous and stopped infiltrating the system. At seventeen he entered Starfleet, a year before the required age. His father had wanted him to write the exams before then, but he'd insisted he wasn't ready. If he had known the freedom Starfleet would give him, away from the dominating control freak that his father was, he would have written the entrance exams when he was fifteen. He had finally been allowed to breath, to make friends, to play sports, to explore the bodies of others. It was absolute freedom, and the classes were easy.
So, he found no real difficulty understanding how the AI technology worked. He knew it would take a year before he fully understood it and could begin helping with any design in that area, but the basics were simply fascinating, and the integration with ships! Incredible.
He smiled easily on this planet, not afraid of how the beings would interpret a show of happiness. They didn't know him, have opinions about him, his past or his attitude. They didn't treat him like an unwanted plague, or gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. They didn't try to push his emotional limits, to see how far they could attack him before he pulled rank. They didn't do any of this, because they didn't care to. They genuinely liked him, were interested in what he had to say, thought his jokes were funny and tales about earth interesting. He was a person worth being around. Living here he felt like he did on Voyager only when he was with Harry: he was human, and he was a friend. And now the damn nightmares were back.
Tom sat on a wooden bench and gazed down, through the thick glass floor, at the trees below and, somewhere under that, the ground. Tirzri'wa, who had been following him the last five minutes, sat down beside him.
"Your night fears are back."
"Is it that bad?"
"My little one began crying and didn't understand why she suddenly felt so angry and afraid." Tom looked at him sharply and exhaled. He leaned back and stared across the pathway, at more trees beyond. He could see a little blue sky peaking in from above.
"Shit." He muttered. If his dreams were going to affect everyone around him he would soon become unwelcome here.
"Don't think that! The community has accepted you and the adults understand that you cannot shield properly. It will only be a matter of weeks before we teach the young to shield your fears. The rest of us are trained."
"Why couldn't you shield on Voyager then? Why is it easier here?"
"It was the time of the awakening. Once a year for several days we open ourselves to feel everything, to understand everyone. For days after we have difficulty controlling our barriers. You and you're crew were, in a sense, unfortunate to have such powerful telepaths on board at the time. It would have been much less severe if it had been a group with Mana'ri's perceptions instead of ours." Tom sat in silence for a minute and then shook his head. It didn't matter, it was a thing of the past.
"You can not help feeling defensive Tom, it's a reaction that has been developed within yourself since childhood."
"Did I make the right decision Tirzri'wa? Leaving them?"
"You know you did. You were beginning to hurt yourself, you would never have been able to heal. The negative energy that you have been dealing with for so long was becoming too much."
"I just can't seem to let go. I thought by leaving them I would be able to forget…"
"No, you hoped you would be able to forget. What you know is that you can't forget, that you need to accept what happened to you, and that this acceptance will let you begin healing."
"It's not that easy, to just accept it. I think I've passed the point of healing."
"If you truly felt that way, then you would not have cared whether or not you began to hurt your fellow crewmates on Voyager." They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the leaves rustle and the flying creatures purring songs, lost in their own thoughts. Tom had almost stayed on Voyager that day, when Harry had begged him and Ayala, of all people, had stepped in and told him that he didn't need to leave. He had almost changed his mind, but he knew it was for the wrong reasons, for weak reasons. Friendship was not enough to protect them or himself from his anger.
"I did seek help you know." He suddenly blurted out, unable to stop himself. He heard a distant, mirthless chuckle that he realized must have been his own. "After I escaped." He clarified. He looked over at his companion and noticed that his feathers were flat on his head, which meant he was focusing completely on Tom.
"You did not receive any?" His friend asked, shocked. Tom laughed bitterly and closed his eyes, thinking back.
"I wouldn't say that. I got help, in the end, and along the way I learned one of the most valuable lessons of my life: Trust is for fools."
"What happened?"
"There's not much to the story actually. I escaped from that…place, and sold the shuttle on a border planet…
It hadn't been difficult, finding a buyer on the back streets, especially considering that he was asking for one third of what the shuttle was worth. He didn't make nearly enough money to get off this planet, and he was in absolutely no shape for a journey of any kind He had carried his purse to the nearest clinic, taken one look through the front door and turned around. There was no way he was going to be treated by a doctor that got his degree by reading medical articles published in entertainment papers. There was no way that place had been licensed, and he doubted anywhere else in the vicinity was any better. So he'd done the next thing he could think of, he went into a store that sold basic medical supplies, purchased an assortment of items, some water and food, and then hobbled out.
He knew he was going to start attracting attention, carrying around a bag of medical supplies, draped in dirty brown clothes, and limping heavily. He found a run down hotel and paid for the night. As he'd reached the tiny room he felt the blood finally begin to drip through the makeshift bandage on his arms and onto the floor. He dropped his bags and immediately pried the security pads cover off. The clerk had given him a code but he'd be damned if he was going to use it. He rewired the lock to beep if it was being accessed and changed the code completely. It was rudimentary, but it was the best he could do at the moment.
Collapsing on the bed he let out a groan of agony and furiously wiped away the tears that leaked out of his eyes. He didn't have time to cry, he needed to fix his wounds before they became infected and then figure out how he would get back to earth where he could get proper medical care.
The only regenerators the store had healed minor skin abrasions and had been way more credit than it was worth. Slowly he stripped out of the dirty cloths and pulled out antiseptics and bandages. He cleaned all the cuts and burns he could reach, but the one on his arm was too deep to leave alone, and he had nothing to properly close the wound with. He settled for wrapping a bandage around his arm and trying to pull the wound closed. He iced his knee, which had been twisted wickedly, and bound it tightly to prevent movement. The next thing he knew it was morning and a dull light was shining through his tiny window. It was a cloudy day outside.
He'd left the hotel shortly after drinking all his water and throwing away most of the food; he couldn't eat it, his stomach kept rebelling on him. His body had been on fire, his wounds begging for proper attention and old wounds reminding him that they hadn't been properly healed. A vicious cramp lodged in his stomach and refused to leave, he thought he might have had a minor concussion from banging his head as he'd attempted not to watch them get…not to watch. He entered an establishment that didn't look as though it catered to law-abiding citizens and sat in a corner, ordering the strongest drink they had and hoping it would help curb the pain. It succeeded in numbing his body, but not his mind.
He watched, all day, as patrons came and went. There was a Bolian card game taking place in one corner, a drinking competition a few tables down, and a wall set up for knife toss at the other end of the room. As the evening came more customers arrived. Gambling increased and bets were made. Several times that day Tom had stood and thrown the knives when no one had felt like playing. He didn't do very well, and stopped after he'd tossed each different knife the place owned. Now he stood again and joined the rather large crowd, determined who the bookie was and waited. It wasn't long before he'd picked his target: A Klingon who, being extremely confident in his skill and heritage, was boasting of his skills. Tom offered a challenge and it was accepted. Quickly the news of him not being very adept at throwing knives (for people had been in the bar all day along with himself) traveled and bets were made. He hadn't been sure on how to play this round, but when the Klingon insisted on heading to relieve himself before beginning Tom had sidled up to the bookie and, very quietly, changed his bet. The scaly Omatherian had smiled slightly.
"You sure human?"
"Positive."
"You're funeral if you can't pay up." But Tom surprised them, and won in the first round (pilot hand-eye coordination came in very useful outside of flying and playing pool). Quickly, while the Klingon had still been stunned Tom passed the Omatherian, grabbed the chit that was handed to him, and left the bar. The lizard like being had been grinning, which meant he had changed his bet along with Tom's, recognizing a shark and using it to his own advantage. As the door closed he heard the Klingon bellow in out rage and he limped quickly down the street and out of sight.
The next morning he took his hefty winning and bartered passage to earth. Within two hours he was gone.
He still couldn't eat, drinking broth to try and get nutrients into his system and sleeping almost constantly. The pain in his stomach was increasing and a slight fever set in on his second day on the ship. A Bajoran male, Tom had never learned his name, had taken to checking on him every few hours. It was he that helped Tom to the communication console when the bucket of bolts they were flying in came into communication distance with the federation; its system was so far out of date it was amazing it still worked. Tom called his dad, and finally allowed himself to feel relieved. He would get help and soon he would be safe. However, when his father answered the communiqué, after ten minutes of making Tom wait, he had appeared busy and uninterested.
"What is it Thomas, I'm very busy." The cold words had stunned Tom and he forgot what he had been planning to say. His stomach flared in pain and he took a breath to steady himself. He berated himself for thinking that his dad might have been worried about him. After the last month he had created an image of his father in his mind, which had him smiling in relief at finally seeing his son. Tom had forgotten how focused on Starfleet, and not his family, that his father was.
"Admiral. It's good to see you." He managed, trying to sound formal, despite the sense of trepidation he began to feel upon the mans steely greeting. Hard blue eyes suddenly looked up at the screen and the admiral frowned.
"Where have you been?" He asked, taking no heed to Tom's words. Tom felt like a child again, guilt welling inside him because he wasn't sure if he had done something wrong.
"I've been…Dad, I…I need your help."
"What's wrong with you Thomas? Have you been taking drugs? Is this how you cope with embarrassing your family? By running away and creating more embarrassing scenario's?" There was a cold anger in his father's voice, as though he was dressing down a particularly aggravating cadet.
"What? No! I need you're help dad, I'm injured and sick. I'm on my way home now but you need to know what happened…" The admiral didn't want to hear it, and his face had boiled into a scalding red. The only time Tom had ever seen his father this angry had been when he hit Tom, and that had only happened a few times…
"How dare you Thomas. You disappear off the face of the earth and then, over a month later, call me begging me for help. It's bad enough that you embarrass me by falsifying reports and being kicked out of Starfleet, but now you're a junkie and think you can crawl home for sympathy! The reporters would have a field day with this!"
"I'm not doing drugs dad!" Tom yelled, exasperated. He sat up taller and ignored the dizzying pain. "I was kidnapped Dad! The Cardassians were waiting for me when I left earth! I've been-"
"As if I can believe a single word that comes out of your mouth." The admiral snarled. His face was returning to its normal colour and Tom had frozen mid word, struck dumb by the cold cut off. "You think you can garner sympathy from your mistakes by creating fruitless stories? Well think again. You are on your own this time Thomas. Don't even think of coming home until you are clean and at least partially respectable." And then Tom was staring at a blank screen, where he father had been only moments before. After a few minutes he had been able to calm his breathing and stop the panic attack that had almost overwhelmed him. His father had turned him away. He hadn't believed a single word that Tom had said, hadn't even been worried about how sick he looked.
Tom had forgotten, in his month of captivity, the anger Starfleet had built against him because of Caldick Prime. He had been outcast and shunned, his friends had turned their backs, his fiancé had left him, his family refused to speak to him and now his own father had turned him away when he had told him what had happened. He told him the truth! Tom felt something inside him shift out of place, and in the gap it left nothing but a cold, empty feeling. If his own father wouldn't believe him, nobody would. He was completely alone, and as he fell off his stool he knew that he would never again be the same.
Tom opened his eyes and found himself back on Widaria, a cool breeze licking his face and Tirzri'wa's supportive hand on his shoulder. He surprised himself by not pulling away from the touch, seeing as he usually felt threatened with too much physical contact. He coughed, suddenly self conscious, and shifted nervously in his seat, not looking over at his friend.
"After that," he forced himself to continue, "the Bajoran took me to his home and disappeared. His parents nursed me back to health and I worked on their farm for a few months to repay the debt. They never asked any questions and I had been betond talking about it at that point. I went back to earth and began working as bartender at a place called Sandrine's. I joined the Maquis, went to jail and then ended up on Voyager." He finished his tale and didn't know what else to say.
"Come." His orange feathered friend ordered, standing abruptly. "You need to get some food into you before your next shift. Tonight you shall join us for your supper." Tom smiled at him, relieved that he wouldn't have to keep talking. Soon he would be back in the air, flying one ship or another, and he could forget all about that bit of his past for at least a few hours.