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The Ghosts of those Three Officers…
Voyager was certainly not like any ship that he'd been a part of, she was new and she was quick, and despite the fact he had no intention of betraying the Maquis to them, he had played along with the hope of gaining his freedom in the long term. Paris noted a few sour looks sent his way, and he felt his insides clench. He wondered who had spread the word Thomas Eugene Paris, Starfleet current disappointment, the one who'd disobeyed the rules and lied, resulting in the deaths of 3 people in a crash, the son of the 'legendary' Admiral Owen Paris was onboard the ship.
I won't be here long, Paris thought to himself as he walked into the Mess Hall - the ship was much too small, too compact for a true Ten Forward, but as he walked into the room for something to eat, he could see there was nothing different here. It was just a large room with tables and chairs where the crew would relax and grab something to eat or drink, while there was a bank of replicators lining the room while transparent aluminium walls gave the crew the vista of open space.
It was a breathtaking view. Paris just didn't know how long he'd have to enjoy it before he was back in the prison cell he'd left behind. As he walked into the mess hall, he slowed his stride and sighed under his breath when he caught sight of Cavitt and the ship's doctor, Fitzgerald sitting with Harry, whispering to him.
The bastards.
They couldn't leave well alone, but he had known this was going to happen at some point. Tom hadn't really given anyone the full story about what happened at the accident to say nothing about the inquest, or his confession about what happened, what really happened, so he wasn't surprised Cavitt and Fitzgerald had gotten to Harry. But he hadn't expected them to be so quick about it.
He could have told the kid himself, but Tom had genuinely enjoyed being in the kid's company. Harry was a breath of fresh air; granted his naivety in Quarks on Deep Space Nine had been endearing in an annoyingly stupid way, especially as he made the mistake of saying words you shouldn't when dealing with Ferengi. The kid would have been eaten alive had Tom not interjected, and now the kid would not want anything to do with him.
Perhaps it was for the best.
Paris walked to the nearest replicator. Perhaps he should enjoy some comfort food when he had the chance. "Tomato soup."
"There are fourteen varieties of tomato soup available from this replicator," Paris listened with irritation as he listened to the replicator but he was unable to take his eyes off of Harry. "With rice, with vegetables, Bolian style, with pasta, with-."
Tom realised with a curse that he'd picked up from a Klingon that he'd let this go on too long. "Plain."
But the computer was unwilling to let him have the last word. "Specify hot or chilled."
What the fuck?
Okay, that was enough. It was bad enough that most of the crew knew of his history and were judging him on it - while he didn't care about Janeway, Cavitt, or Fitzgerald thought of him although Harry was an exception, he was not going to let some stupid replicator get on his nerves to the point where he was prepared to blast the stupid thing to pieces. Stadi had told him the ship used bio-neural technology to speed up the computer processing time. It seemed they also gave replicators an attitude problem, too.
Holding back his inner irritation, Tom made it simple for the replicator and he prayed "Hot. Hot, plain, tomato soup."
Finally, the replicator whirred and a tray with a steaming bowl of tomato soup materialised. Tom picked up the tray and walked away before the replicator demanded a thank you from him. It would get it when the ship was decommissioned. He took the bowl over to sit by Kim. He wanted to clear the air, knowing the kid was going to demand answers. As he approached the doctor and Cavitt both got up and walked away. Neither of them was even remotely abashed by what they'd done. He didn't care.
"There, you see? I told you it wouldn't take long," Paris said casually as he sat down with a nonchalance that hid his inner pain and anger with himself as he kept thinking about 'what if' about what could have happened. But he had known from the off there was nothing that was going to get him out unless he had access to the Guardian of Forever to help him change the past.
"Is it true?" Kim demanded, looking disappointed.
"Was the accident my fault? Yes. Pilot error. But it took me a while to admit it," Tom said as he took a spoonful of soup and ate it. He winced at the taste at once. "Oh, fourteen varieties and they can't even get plain tomato soup right."
"They said you falsified reports."
Tom nodded, "That's right."
"Why?"
Tom stared at him. "What's the difference? I lied."
"But then you came forward and you admitted that it was your fault?" Harry said, disbelieving that anyone could have done what Paris had.
Paris realised that Harry, fresh from Starfleet Academy was one of those kids whose head was swollen with talk of duty, obligation, that the truth of every Starfleet officer was to the truth. A rule he had broken so badly that it followed him around like a cloaked stench.
"I'll tell you the truth, Harry," Tom began, although he didn't really have much in the way of choice. "All I had to do was keep my mouth shut and I was home free. But I couldn't. The ghosts of those three dead officers came to me in the middle of the night and taught me the true meaning of Christmas."
Tom took a moment to pause as he remembered that point in his life. He wasn't like Nick, who'd been able to keep the lie set when he and his squad attempted that insane Starburst manoeuvre which got one of them killed. Unlike Nick, Tom Paris had a conscience but he had been in shock when he had falsified the reports and lied on his head. The whole thing had bothered him for days and days, and one night he had a nightmare of the whole crash happening all over again, with the three officers scaring him to death. "So I confessed. Worst mistake I ever made but not my last. After they cashiered me out of Starfleet, I went out looking for a fight and found the Maquis. And on my first assignment, I was caught."
Granted, Tom knew that that part wasn't exactly his fault. He had gotten involved with a girl - he should have known better by now, but it had happened - and she had turned out to be an undercover Starfleet Security agent, and she had released her information to a closed session, but he still felt responsible for letting the bitch get too close.
Harry spoke up, intruding on Tom's thoughts about that time in his life. "It must have been especially tough for you, being the son of an admiral."
Tom couldn't help but grimace; the kid might be trying to sound understanding and even sympathetic, but he had chosen a truly unpleasant way to go about it. "Frankly, I think it was tougher on my father than it was on me," he ground out.
Tom and his father had never, ever been close. Owen Paris was a legend in Starfleet, one of a long line of Fleeter's just like the Janeway family was, but unlike Kathryn Janeway who'd been indoctrinated into thinking she was a Starfleet officer before she signed onto the Academy and passed the entrance examination. The Parises had been in Starfleet since the days where it was first founded back in the 22nd century. Parises had served on the frontlines, of the Romulan and Klingon conflicts, and if Owen had his way that tradition would go on and on until the universe collapsed and died.
Owen's indoctrination was so complete and final that he could not begin to even imagine any Paris not willing to serve on a Starfleet ship.
Tom had resented his father for destroying his nautical dreams. He had longed to explore the oceans of numerous worlds, but to his father, it was incomprehensible for a Paris to not serve on a ship without a Starfleet ensign on it.
But he loathed his father for just looking at him at the inquest after his confession before he was kicked out of Starfleet like his own son was somebody he didn't know, and he had made sure to make it hurt. In the end, Tom had just washed his hands of the entire family when they followed suit. After all, they couldn't go up against the Great and Mighty Admiral Owen Paris, could they?
In the end, Tom had joined the Maquis, partly to spite his family and Starfleet, but that changed to genuine sympathy when he saw for himself the way things were in the DMZ. Sure they didn't like him, knowing who he was, but Tom hadn't cared. He had believed at the time, with luck he'd die there and spite his family further. He hated them that much.
Tom looked down at the soup, realising comfort food was off the charts for him right now, so he stood up. He didn't know what he would do before Janeway brought them to the Badlands, he was going to spend it alone. But before he did he stopped to add to Harry, "Look, I know those guys told you to stay away from me. And you know what? You ought to listen to them. I'm not exactly a good luck charm."
Harry's next words stopped him in his tracks.
"I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me," The kid sounded sincere enough to Tom, but he would have time to see how this panned out.
"Janeway to Paris," Janeway's annoying, nasally voice broke through to tell them they were approaching the Badlands. Neither Tom nor Harry knew their lives would be changed from that point forward.
