Disclaimer: See part one
Part the Three - Where in which Tom tries to smooth things over and ends up rounded out instead!
0oOo0
Dull but persistent pain finally pulled Tom back to consciousness, where a variety of aches vied for his attention, from the throb of a likely broken wrist to the grating of certainly broken ribs, his body was a map of hurts. Mentally cataloguing each individual bump and bruise, it took several long moments for the bloodied pilot to realize that although his head still throbbed in time with his pulse, it no longer felt as though his skull was being split asunder.
Cautiously he cracked open his eyes, eyes which refused to focus, and with limited vision Tom tried to take stock of his surroundings. The floor, previously scant inches from the tip of his nose was now somewhere back below his feet. Although his body was now vertical instead of lying supine his feet, he noted, were not actually connecting with the ground.
Automatically raising a hand to wipe at the warm sticky feeling that had to be blood still running sluggishly down his cheek Tom found that the light field which held him suspended, now a rich purple which as quite an improvement over the earlier pulsing red, also continued to hold his limbs immobile. After a brief struggle which only went to confirm that he was indeed trapped, already worried by fuzzy vision and now unable to access the damage to his face, Tom put a voice to his frustrated feelings, muttering under his breath. "Well that's not good, no good at all!"
"Man-child. Despoiler." The unseen speaker's voice returned, its' words echoing inside his already bruised mind. Tom winced in anticipation of further pain as it continued. "Man-child. Despoiler. Do you accept the consequences of your actions?"
"Consequences? Actions?" He queried, "I'm afraid I'm not sure to what actions you refer."
"You refuse to acknowledge your actions. Prepare for termination."
"WAIT!" Tom called out, trying hard not to panic; vocal cords already abused causing his voice to crack. "I'm not refusing to acknowledge them; I just don't know what actions you mean. Please explain to me to what you refer. Surely it is only fair to allow me to be fully informed before answering?"
"Man-child, despoiler of the Hall of Women. You plead ignorance, and yet reparation must be made, either by accepting the consequences of your actions or termination for refusal."
Tom breathed deeply, momentarily forgetting his broken ribs until the grating of the bone ends rubbing together instantly brought them back to the forefront of his mind, as he attempted something he never believed he would do; calling on diplomacy learnt, if nothing else, from a childhood watching his father negotiate in the political games of the upper echelons of Starfleet. The thought of actually finding something to be grateful towards the man who had publicly disowned him almost caused Tom to laugh out loud, only the gravity of the situation and his throbbing ribs prevented an inappropriate outburst.
"Ignorance is no defence, I have evidently transgressed and for that error I am sorry," the Lieutenant said altering his tone as much as strained vocal cords would allow, trying to emphasize the sincerity in his words, knowing that his very life could depend on swaying the hidden listener to the truth of his statement. "However, I would ask you to please explain the nature of this error so that I can make an informed decision, to accept the consequences and make whatever reparation or formal apology you deem appropriate.
"Man-child, as you have requested so shall it be." For some reason Tom thought that the word Man-child sounded less derogatory this time, the hidden speaker's tone a little more respectful, but then again it could have just been a case of wishful thinking.
Without warning a barrage of information flooded into the pilot's mind, images accompanying the compressed history of a world in turmoil, three sexes fighting for dominance in a planet wide war, destruction of almost ninety percent of the population. The rise of a Matriarchal society from the ashes substituting order for chaos, the creation of Mother Religion and the building of the sacred Hall of Women. With the history came understanding that the sanctity of building into which he had fallen had been broken by the shedding of blood within its' precincts. Understood that the source of his knowledge and of the voice behind the unseen presence, an advance artificial intelligence which guarded the hall, both a relic of a long dead civilization, yet the AI compelled to maintain that which its' creators set in place, force to uphold the law for a people no more than ancient dust.
"Thank you. I understand now," Tom whispered knowing that the AI would hear him no matter how quietly he spoke.
"Do you accept the consequences of your actions?" To Tom the voice now seemed sad, tired, lonely even.
"I do," he again whispered, for with the history lesson had come concise information detailing the legal and judicial systems. To refuse would compound the 'crime' and termination of the offender the only possible outcome, a punishment Tom had no desire to warrant.
"Do you accept the repatriation; one solar day for every cycle lived starting from the age of responsibility? Man-child you shall become that which you defiled. Thirteen days for every rotation, man-child you shall be no more!"
o0O0o
Far above the subterranean Hall of Women and far distant from the acts within, Voyager's crew continued to search for their missing member. The blue shimmer of transporter beams briefly lit the air, clearing to reveal the rescue team lead by Commander Chakotay. Following twin trails of footprints, individual steps widely spaced indicating the two men of the Away Team had been running when they made them, Chakotay swiftly located an area of flattened grass where Harry Kim had fallen; the purple stems bent away from the torn earth, crushed by the young Ensign's body, broken the tall blades leaked sweet smelling sap staining the soil a muddy violet.
Nearby the ground showed faint signs of where of a second body had lain but scuffed boot prints lead away towards the edge of the ravine. Using their tricorders the rescue team scanned the darkness below, searching for some, any, sign of the missing pilot, fearing to discover for truth that which evidence seemed to indicate.
"Chakotay to Voyager."
"Go ahead Commander."
"Lieutenant Paris is not in the immediate vicinity, we're preparing to explore the ravine now. Tricorders are not picking up any interference however we are picking up an energy signature which could be masking Tom's bio-signs." Neither the Captain nor the Commander were willing to admit the most logical explanation for the lack of detectable bio-signs was that the Lieutenant was no longer alive, even Tuvok having come to this conclusion kept silent.
Throughout the conversation a low pulsing red light from deep within the ravine steadily grew brighter, the colour shifting slowly to purple, lightening to turquoise then green before flashing once, a stunningly brilliant yellow, momentarily blinding the rescue team before blinking out. When the teams' vision cleared they found themselves confronted by the flickering projection of an elderly alien woman.
"May I help you?" Commander Chakotay addressed the wavering image.
"Man-child, you are not the one who leads. I must speak with the Voyager Clan Leader in relation to your clan member Tom," she replied, arms folded, body language adding a sense of finality to her statement.
"Commander, am I to understand my presence is required?" Captain Janeway said, speaking over the still open communication channel.
"I believe so Captain; there is someone here who wishes to speak with you."
"I'm on my way, Voyager out." "Tuvok you have the bridge."
Minutes later the short but formidable figure of Captain Janeway materialised next to her second in command, her eyes sweeping the plateau, swiftly taking into account the low grade projection, the alien woman though elderly stood tall and unbending, patches of colour running from her temples, across her ears and down her neck, the light blue trail disappearing below the collar of a simple white robe, its hood hanging free down her back under a veil of long white hair.
"You are the Voyager Clan Leader?" The woman asked.
"I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager."
"You are whom I must speak with, these others I do not," the woman said, pointing towards the rescue team. Stopping to indicate both Chakotay and the Captain with a graceful sweep of one hand, "Tom has trust in you both therefore this man-child may stay."
"What do you know of Mr Paris?" The Capitan queried.
"This One will be returned to you shortly. Do you accept responsibility for their care?" Came the oddly phrased reply.
"I am his Captain, the care and wellbeing of all Voyager's crew is both my duty and responsibility."
"You may stay, the man-child too," again the woman indicated Chakotay. "The rest must leave, now!"
"Excuse me, but could you please explain what is going on, where is my pilot?"
"Tom accepted the consequences, reparation has been made, however it may take sometime for This One to adjust. You have a responsibility of care to your clan; I cannot in good faith return This One to you unless the others have gone. This One has so requested it, Tom, This One, trusts you both and has requested that you both stay as witnesses."
"Reparation? I do not like the sound of that, what have you done to him?"
"This One knows and has accepted the consequences."
Try as she might the Captain could elicit no further information from the projection, the conversation travelling in constant circles. Eventually concluding that 'This One' referred to Tom, Tom who trusted both herself and the Commander, Tom who had requested that they and only they be present to act as witnesses for some form of reparation as consequence to some act or acts that only Tom and the alien woman understood, Tom who had agreed to something as part of this reparation. The alien woman's syntax was unusual, Chakotay she referred to as man-child, as though it were some form of title. Janeway herself was simply Clan leader, but Tom, Tom she referred to by name or as 'This One' whenever a gender specific term was suitable. The realisation that the whole time the woman had avoided referring to Tom or anyone else as he or she puzzled the Captain.
Deciding that the continued presence of the rescue team was impeding the return of Voyager's missing Chief Pilot the Capitan activated her comm-badge. "Janeway to Voyager, Tuvok the Commander and I will be remaining here, three to beam up, but please maintain a lock on Chakotay and myself.
The three un-required rescue team members disappeared in short order into the blue of a transporter beam, leaving the Captain and Commander alone with the cryptic alien lady.
"Ok, we've done as you have asked, now would you be so good as to return my pilot?"
"Clan Leader, as you have asked so shall it be," the elderly woman said, the flickering projection fading slowly as it spoke until all that remained was a narrow column of bluish white light. Flaring the column collapsed in on itself, flaring once more to expand revealing the golden glowing form of Voyager's missing officer. Something about Tom's form seemed amiss but both senior officers had no time to investigate before the tall blonde's body seemed to shudder and Tom collapsed at their feet.
"Chakotay to Voyager, three to beam directly to sickbay."
o0O0o