Author's note:Stories
Here's another chapter. I had wanted to emphasize one issue before we got to the trial scene. So here we are!
It was time to get to work, Paris thought. Time to settle in and prepare a defense. Harry's quarters had computer terminals and enough room to work. He didn't want to use his own, not with B'Elanna on edge, and Seven lived in the cargo bay, which lacked a little on creature comforts.
Okay, Paris thought. Time to take charge.
"All right," he said. "Let's get things rolling. We've got a defense to plan. Kessel, why don't you get back in uniform, then we'll head down to Harry's quarters."
Kessel nodded and left for another part of the holosim where she could change in privacy. Harry watched her go, clearly admiring the minidress. Seven watched her too, but Tom figured it was more curiosity than carnality. A few moments later, Kessel returned in uniform.
The holodeck doors opened, and they proceeded out. Tom found himself leading up the parade. Kessel and Harry were walking together behind him, with Seven in the back. That had sort of surprised him; he didn't think she would play second fiddle too easily. Then again, he allowed, she'd surprised him by volunteering to help at all. He supposed that said good things for her readjustment to humanity.
He was trying to get a plan straight as he walked. He'd never been much of a bookworm, and that was worrying him. On the other hand, between Harry, Kessel, and Seven, the defense team had bookworms to spare. They could pull up all the stuff he needed. Then everybody would have to plan out strategy. They'd have to figure out where Tuvok was likely to go and develop counter-strategies. He'd have to present everything, and he'd have to lead.
Other thoughts occurred to him. He'd have to keep an eye on Kessel. Oh, he didn't think she would do anything violent, or steal the Delta Flyer and hijack the ship – she really didn't have anywhere else to go. But she'd coped for the duration of the journey by keeping back and staying out of the spotlight. She wouldn't have that opportunity anymore. He wanted to keep her from doing something like running Khan scenarios on the holodeck – stuff that could easily get taken the wrong way. And somebody had to keep her spirits up. She was stiff and reserved, and that could easily be mistaken for arrogance and superiority.
Throwing a glance over his shoulder suggested that Harry would be the right fellow to task with morale duties. They were talking about music; comparing their tastes in classical music. Apparently, Kessel and Harry had similar musical tastes. There was some hideous irony right there: this whole thing had started partially because he'd wanted to see if he could maneuver them into hitting it off. Well, he'd gotten that, hadn't he?
All the same, he was the front man. This was his shindig. He had good people, but in the end he'd be answerable for it.
Heck of a way to get my first command, Tom thought with a grin. No flyboy tactics or Captain Proton stuff. Instead, I get to out-argue a Vulcan. Lucky me.
Just before he led his merry band into the turbolift, his combadge twittered. "Janeway to Paris."
He tapped it. "Go ahead, captain."
There was no anger in her voice. It was all business today. "Mr. Paris, we've been able to establish a datastream with Earth. We anticipate it'll be able to hold for at least half an hour. Possibly more. In the interests of fairness, I'm going to allot both you and Mr. Tuvok fifteen minutes each. Research, voice, data – you can have whatever you want, but you've got fifteen minutes. Report to Astrometrics at 1045."
"Yes, captain. Thank you," Paris said.
For just a moment, he was frustrated: he'd been trying to set a course, and now this. That passed after a moment. Captain Janeway had to deal with unexpected things all the time. Often they were unexpected things that shot at them, too. This was nothing by comparison. The question came to his mouth just as it formed in his head.
"Okay, guys," he said. "You heard that. Fifteen minutes with Earth. What's the best use of that time?"
Harry took out a PADD and began typing away. "We can get the latest updates on legal materials," he pointed out. "I can design the query now, so all we have to do is transmit."
"I would also seek out any legal cases involving members of enemy races who have attempted to enter Starfleet," Seven said abruptly.
Tom tilted his head. "Enemy races?"
"Lieutenant Torres is half Klingon," Seven clarified. "The Federation spent a long time at war with the Klingon Empire. Would she have been permitted to enter Starfleet a hundred years ago?"
Tom touched his chin thoughtfully. "Good question," he admitted. "I'm not sure."
"Likewise," Seven continued. "Jean-Luc Picard was assimilated by the Borg. He was permitted to return to his Starfleet career. There is no denying that he was a Borg drone, even if for a short period of time. If there was any sort of legal hearing regarding him, we should examine that."
Harry's eyes lit up. "I remember there was a case on the Enterprise about ten years ago or so, where a crewman said he was part Vulcan and turned out to be part Romulan."
Tom chewed his lip thoughtfully. "That's a good line of reasoning," he said. All the same, he felt like something was missing. Something else, just on the tip of his tongue. Then he had it. "You know...I know what's going to help from Earth."
"What?" Harry asked.
He turned and pointed at the Augment. "Your family."
Kessel seemed shocked. "My family? How?"
"Because," Tom said. "I want to know more about what they did."
Kessel drew herself up. "I do not want them involved," she said.
"They already are," Tom said. "Look. Arik Soong was kind of a mad scientist. Maybe a well-intentioned one, but let's face it, he tried to do everything all on his own. He shipped his Augments off to his own little colony and raised them in isolation, all by himself. But your dad didn't. He found families for the others. Other people helped out in other ways, too. A lot of people, and they all took some real risks. People don't rally behind a mad scientist like that." He paused, remembering the interview. "When I said it was a conspiracy, you got kind of stiff." Stiffer than usual, he mentally added. "And you said..."
"Conspiracy, if you like," Kessel supplied helpfully. "These were people who believed we should have the same choices in life as anyone else."
Between you and Seven, we're not even going to need PADDs. We'll just have you two run back anything we need to remember, Paris thought. "Yeah," he said. "I want to know why. Your dad was in the center of the whole deal, but he had a lot of help. He got people to follow him. I want to hear what he's got to say."
Kessel took a step forward. "Lieutenant Paris," she said, "I don't want my parents to get in trouble. They could lose everything – their jobs, their professional reputations...they could to go to jail. I really don't want that to happen."
"I know," Paris said. "It's going to come out one way or the other, though. Think about it, though. He repaired the Augments so their brains worked right. All of you were raised around humans, and it doesn't seem like any of you were raised to believe you ought to be our evil overlords. Obviously he intended for you to blend into society, not take it over. I want to know more about why he did what he did."
Kessel swallowed. "I don't like it," she said.
"Besides, anything to do with your defense is confidential," he continued. "Tuvok can't have it, and Captain Janeway can't have it."
"Unless you introduce it at trial," Kessel said.
Paris shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said. "What are you so afraid of, anyway?"
Kessel took a moment to consider her words. "My father is...a rather stubborn man," she said. "He takes his moral beliefs very seriously. He will admit what he did with me, because he doesn't think he did anything wrong. He...has strong feelings about life. He'll stand up and tell you, or Tuvok, or Captain Janeway, or Starfleet Command. He won't back down, even if it would be more sensible for him to keep his mouth shut. My mother is quieter about it...but no more yielding."
Harry glanced up. "We gotta get to Astrometrics," he said.
"Okay," Paris said, and steered his little band to the turbolift. As it hummed upwards, he pondered. This was actually a good sign. Captain Janeway still seemed to be ticked off at the Augment ensign, but Paris thought that her statement was completely true. She wanted this hearing to be fair. At least it wouldn't be a railroad job.
The door to Astrometrics was closed. Paris watched his people and found himself wondering if they shouldn't have gotten something to eat or done something else to pass the time. There wasn't much to do in this hallway other than wait and stew.
The door surprised him by opening a few moments later. Tuvok stepped out and observed the four of them bloodlessly. He nodded once.
"Good morning," he said courteously. "Astrometrics is yours, Lieutenant Paris."
Tom nodded back. He let his face fall into the cool convict's lack of expression. He didn't want to give the Vulcan a centimeter. "That was quick, Commander," he said.
"I do not require significant updates from Starfleet Command," Tuvok noted. "The questions in this case are long settled. The legal database on Voyager is sufficient for my needs."
A little Vulcan psych-out, eh? Paris thought. Two could play at that game. "I suppose," Paris said. "I'm a little surprised, though. I never would have thought a Vulcan would think discrimination is logical."
If his crack had gotten to the Vulcan, it didn't show. Tuvok had always been impassive that way; it was one of the reasons some of the junior crew called him the Great Stone Face.
"For one thing, Mr. Paris," Tuvok replied, "this is not a question of my personal beliefs, but rather a duty I have been assigned by the captain. For another, this is neither the place nor the time. I shall marshal my arguments at the hearing, and I recommend you do the same."
He stepped past them regally, entering the turbolift without a word. Paris grinned. He had gotten under the Vulcan's skin, after all.
He stepped into Astrometrics to find B'Elanna standing at a console. He stopped. Their last meeting hadn't gone so well. She eyed him coolly, not giving an inch.
"Hi," Tom said. "Glad to see you on your feet."
"I'm doing much better," B'Elanna said tightly. "So...I understand you're going to contact Earth."
"That's right," Tom said. "Look, I want to talk to you. Once I get finished with this."
B'Elanna glanced over his shoulder at something. Momentary confusion played over her face. Tom turned. Kessel was standing by Kim, whispering something to him. He answered back quietly and glanced at them quizzically.
"All right," she said, still a little cool and reserved. "What are you going to do?"
"Explain things," he said. "I just...you have to hear me out. It's complicated."
She chuckled. "No, I mean what are you going to do with the datalink to Earth."
"Oh." Harry stepped forward and smoothly handed B'Elanna a PADD.
"We need to run these queries," Harry said. She nodded and fed the data into the computer.
"Any comms?" B'Elanna asked.
"Yep," Tom said, feeling his tensions lessen. Something had loosened B'Elanna up. That was a good thing; one less thing to worry about. "Kessel's family."
B'Elanna raised an eyebrow. "It's your comm time," she said.
"I know what I'm doing," Tom said. Kessel stepped forward timidly and tapped something out on the console, and then stepped back. B'Elanna tilted her head and watched her. At first, she seemed hostile and distrusting. Then, she seemed to relax a little and seemed thoughtful. Tom glanced back over his shoulder and saw Kessel was standing next to Kim, clearly drawing some sort of comfort from that. It took him a moment to realize it. B'Elanna had accused him of having an affair with Kessel. Now, here she was, clearly preferring Harry's company. It didn't bother Tom a bit – actually, it made his job easier.
It took a moment for the comm call to go through. Static ruled the screen for several seconds. Then it flickered and formed into the figure of a man. B'Elanna left Astrometrics, muttering that she would be monitoring from outside. That was fine; they'd have their privacy. Tom glanced up at the man who had brought Augments back to the universe.
Erika Kessel did not look particularly German, in Tom Paris's humble opinion. Then again, that only made sense; she had been adopted, more or less. Heinrich Kessel did. He was old, with a thin, sharp-featured face. His hair had gone silver and thinned at the temples. Bright blue eyes stared back at him, and the whites of his eyes were interrupted by snaps of veins. Tom thought that he could have stuck him in a Captain Proton serial as a scientist very easily.
He sat in a mobility chair, but Tom guessed Dr. Kessel was about as tall as he was. He smiled at his daughter and nodded once, the picture of reserve.
"Guten Morgen," he said.
Tom motioned for Kessel to come up. She complied. He leaned over to her and spoke quietly.
"You can have a couple of minutes with your family," he said, "but don't get too into it. Explain to them what they need to know, and then I want to interview them."
"Yes, sir," Kessel said, her eyes locked on the screen. Tom could see the emotion on her face. She blinked for a moment, then launched into a flood of tear-choked German. He reached for his combadge and flicked off his translator. There didn't seem to be any particular reason, other than the simple courtesy of privacy.
They spoke back and forth for several minutes. A pretty brunette who he assumed to be Kessel's mother entered the screen and a brisk trot, and she jumped into the conversation. He couldn't follow any of it and didn't bother trying.
Erika Kessel stopped suddenly and took a breath. "Es gibt einen Grund fuer diesen Anruf," she said. "Starfleet...hat mich...," she stopped, and switched to English with conscious effort. "Starfleet has discovered what I am."
Neither parent seemed surprised. The woman glanced down at the floor momentarily and her face tightened. The man simply nodded once, his face not betraying anything.
"This is Lieutenant Paris," she said, pointing at him. "He is my defense counsel. He wanted to talk to you." Tom stepped forward and smiled.
"Good morning, Dr. Kessel," Tom said. "Uh...or is it Professor Kessel? Or Professor Doctor Kessel?" A tight smile of embarassment wreathed his face. Kessel's father was probably thinking that her defender was a complete idiot.
The older man smiled. "Herr Professor Doktor Doktor Kessel, if you vish to be formal," he said. Erika Kessel's German accent was faint, worn down to an occasional harshened consonant or differently pronounced vowel. It reminded him somewhat of Heidi Klum, a supermodel who, in Tom's knowledgeable opinion, was one of the better things about the 20th century. Her father's accent was much stronger.
"I have two degrees. You may call me Doktor Kessel, and I vill call you Lieutenant Paris. Is that fair?"
"Very," Paris said. "And are you a doctor too, Mrs. Kessel?"
The woman smiled pleasantly and answered with an exceedingly proper upper-crust British accent. "Yes, Lieutenant, we're both Dr. Kessel."
"I have a lot of ideas on how I'm going to defend this case," Tom said. "What I need to know from you two is your stories."
"Our stories?" Heinrich Kessel asked, and seemed amused. "I know what you want, Lieutenant. Warum. Why? That is vot you vant to know. Why Augments? Why would I risk my career – indeed, my freedom – for Augments?"
Paris swallowed, feeling like he was being tested and failing. "Well...to make a long story short, yes. From what she tells me, there was quite a conspiracy going on. Why?"
For some reason, he was expecting a diatribe. Something about the superiority of the Augments, or the necessity of science, or something like that. But Kessel pere still remained calm, sitting in his chair and observing Tom out of those lively blue eyes.
"May I ask you something?" the older man asked courteously.
"Sure," Paris said.
"My daughter tells me your vife is expecting," Dr. Kessel said.
"Yes," Paris said.
"Congratulations," the old doctor said. "How far along is she?"
"Thank you. She's thirty-two weeks along, but we don't know when it'll be time. She's half Klingon."
"Ach so. Yes, it's harder to tell with a hybrid mother and a hybrid child. Now. Did the doctor on your ship holoimage the baby for you? Have you seen it?"
"Yes," Tom said.
"Many times?"
"We went once a week, at least," Tom said. "Twice sometimes, if the doc had something to show us. B'Elanna would have gone every day if she could have."
"So," the older man said. "You saw your baby in the womb. You saw it grow."
"Yes," Tom said, smiling despite himself.
"You saw it take form, you saw its heart beat, and you saw its limbs grow. You saw it live."
"Yes, I did," Tom said. "But what does this have to do with anything?"
"Everything," Kessel said. "Your baby vas an embryo once. A living embryo. Ist's nicht so?"
"Yeah," Paris said. "Das ist so."
All of the Kessels seemed amused by his attempt at German. Hardy har har, Paris thought. If it got him some answers, all the better.
"In the datastreams from Voyager, there are reports of a race in the Delta Quadrant that stole organs," Kessel said, snapping his fingers for the name.
"Vidiians," Paris said. "I knew them well. Better than I would have liked, in fact."
"Danke. Tell me, Lieutenant Paris. Suppose a Vidiian ship attacks your ship tomorrow. Then they say they will leave everyone on board alive if only you and your wife give up your baby to them. You would be saving one hundred fifty lives at the cost of one. Would you do it?"
"Of course not," Paris said hotly.
"Why? Your baby isn't born yet. You can have another one," the older man pointed out.
If B'Elanna could hear that, Paris thought, she'd break your arms and leave you for the Vidiians. Probably me, too, just to cover all bases. Dr. Kessel couldn't possibly know that B'Elanna was just outside, but he knew.
"It's only a few weeks off," Paris said.
"All right. Imagine it happened when your wife was only a few weeks along. Would you do it then? It was just an embryo."
He swallowed. "No," Paris said.
"Aha!" the older man stabbed at the air with a thin, bony finger. "Because it was alive even then."
"Yes, of course," Paris said. "But--,"
"No buts," Kessel overrode him. "Don't you see? An embryo is alive."
"Yes," Tom said.
The old man leaned forward in his mobility chair. "Imagine I put you in a prison cell," he said. Paris wondered if Dr. Kessel knew about his past. Didn't everybody? "Imagine I did not give you food or water. I just sat there and watched you waste away. That would be murder, wouldn't it?"
"Of course," Paris said.
"It is no different with embryos. Augment embryos, human embryos, any embryos! They were dying. They had been frozen for centuries. Their cells were breaking down. A decision had to be made. Either we bring them to life, or we murder them. These were lives! We cannot store them in the back of the freezer like...potatoes!" Dr. Kessel sat up straight in his chair, and his eyes burned at the three defenders of his daughter. His accent grew thicker, clotting his words. "That was the choice. We have the technology to make the choice easy. If a young girl gets pregnant and does not want her baby, we can transfer it into a woman who does want it. If there is no recipient, we can place it in an artificial womb and gestate it there. That technology is commonplace. It happens every day. We do that, Lieutenant Paris, because we are civilized people. Don't you see? Civilized people protect innocent life, and if embryos are not innocent life, then what is? If we refuse to do so...if we turn our backs and say, 'Oh, they are Augment embryos, we don't want to continue their lives, it vould be so much easier if they just went away'...then we are not civilized people. We're barbarians with warp technology." The old doctor shook his head. "My choice was clear. I chose to be civilized. Conspiracy? So ein Quatsch. There is no conspiracy, Lieutenant Paris. Only morality."
He took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself. "Whether or not we should make more Augments in a lab is...open to debate," he said. "What is not is that we cannot murder the ones who were already here."
Boy oh boy, Paris thought. If there was a way I could get you here to testify, I wish I could.
"Dr. Kessel, I assure you, I understand that. A hundred per cent. But it's not that simple. You had quite the conspiracy behind you. You faked her DNA, you arranged for her to get a sensor spoofer, and presumably the other ones got them too. That...kind of muddies the waters."
The old man nodded and tilted his head. "If Captain Janevay ordered you to commit genocide against a planet," he said, "would you do it?"
This college-professor question session was beginning to get to him. At least he knew where Erika Kessel had come by her somewhat stilted manner of talking. "No," he said.
"That would be an illegal order, then?"
"Of course. We're not obligated to obey illegal orders. But this is the law, Dr. Kessel."
"Vhat if she wrote the order down?" Kessel continued, as if he had not heard. "If she wrote it down and signed it, would you obey it then?"
He could see where this was going. "Even a written order to fire on a species that hadn't harmed us wouldn't be valid, Dr. Kessel, but--,"
"Even if she wrote it in a law book?" Kessel pressed. "A nice big one, trimmed in leather? With the Starfleet logo printed on it? Surely then it would be all right?"
Paris sighed. The old biologist was certainly sure of himself. "Dr. Kessel, you're talking about murder. I'm talking about falsifying applications to Starfleet Academy, actively jamming DNA sensors...it's not so simple."
"Yes, it is," Dr. Kessel said dismissively. "An unjust law is no law at all. A law that says we cannot bring Augments to life is unjust. And a law that condemns my daughter to second-class citizenship because of the crimes of others of her kind is also unjust. It doesn't matter. I confess. I will take the blame."
Erika Kessel stepped forward and rattled off something in German to her father. His translator was still off, so he didn't catch it. He didn't need to: it was pretty obvious that Ensign Erika Kessel didn't like that idea one bit. Her father simply looked at her, smiled, and shook his head. His answer didn't seem to reassure her.
"Tell me how I can help," the elder Kessel said. "If my testimony will help, I will testify. I did it. I will take responsibility."
Paris sighed. "Nobody here wants to get you in trouble, Dr. Kessel."
"I thank you for that," the old man said. "But I knew this could happen. I have known ever since my daughter was born. If I must go to prison for following my conscience, so be it. I am not afraid."
Damn, Paris thought. He'd been to prison. Dr. Kessel might be a brilliant scientist, but Tom didn't know if he knew what he was getting into. Then again, there had been a few people like him in prison – captured Maquis, protestors of one stripe of another. They'd believed in their cause as fervently as Dr. Kessel believed in his.
Static fuzzed across the screen. Tom felt his gut tighten. "Dr. Kessel?"
The door opened and B'Elanna stuck her head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but we're losing the signal."
Great, Tom thought. All the same, he had what he'd come here for. He swallowed and looked at the parents nervously.
"Dr. Kessel...Drs Kessel, I guess. We're losing the signal, so I may have to cut this short. If I can reach you before the hearing, we'll see about testimony. I'm glad to have met you. And I'm going to do everything I can, along with my staff,--" He indicated Harry and Seven with a hand. "To try and get your daughter out of this, and to make sure people know why you did what you did. Thank you."
"Bitte schoen. And thank you, Lieutenant Par--," the old man replied, before the screen finally fuzzed into rushing static. B'Elanna stuck her head in again, her face twisted in anger.
"Dammit," she said. "I'm sorry, Tom. Signal's gone. I'll try to get it back." She handed Harry a PADD. "Here are your queries."
He glanced over at his client, who was staring at the screen with disappointment and pain inscribed across her face. Her hands were trembling. This had gone well for Tom, but he was not lost as to its emotional effects on his client. He leaned over to Harry.
"Look," he said. "I'd like to talk to B'Elanna for a moment...how about you try and take care of Kessel? We don't need her freaked out for the hearing. Just get her calmed down."
Harry nodded. "Sure," he said. "Last thing she needs to think is that her parents are going to jail over her. I'll get her straightened out. Maybe drop by the mess hall. I've got some replicator credits. Seven?"
Seven seemed somewhat uncomfortable. "I am willing to accompany you," she said, hedging, "but I am not sure my presence will be efficient."
"How so?" Tom asked.
Seven gestured with her chin at the shaking Augment. "Emotional support is not a skill I have mastered," she said.
On the one hand, Tom thought, it said something that Seven had even recognized that was what the problem was, and that she might not be good at it. On the other hand, she was right.
"Just try to be supportive," Harry broke in. "Follow my lead. You'll do okay."
"Very well," the Borg woman assented.
Harry walked over to Kessel and spoke softly to her. Whatever he said, she went along with him compliantly enough. Tom nodded slowly, grinning despite himself. Harry knew how to be supportive. That was one of his strong points.
He watched the three of them leave, waiting a few moments before he stepped out into the corridor. B'Elanna was there, glaring at the console as if she intended to attack it. She glanced over at him.
"Sorry," she said. "Looks like an ion cloud came along at just the right time and scattered the signal to hell and gone." She scowled at the console again.
"It's all right," Tom said. "I got what I needed."
"Did you?" B'Elanna parried.
"Yes," he said. "Did you catch any of it?"
B'Elanna gave him a look. Her expression was thoughtful. She seemed disturbed but not angry.
"Some of it," she said. "I wasn't snooping. I was trying to keep the signal clean."
"I know," Tom said gently.
"I...," she began, and stopped. "I still don't know why you're doing this," she said. "But...that guy was totally different than what I thought. I was thinking, you know, he was going to be this mad scientist or something...then he starts talking about our baby." One hand flitted to her bulging abdomen. "I never thought of it like that."
"That's the problem," he said. "Nobody thought of it like that."
He knew better than to make a big deal of it. B'Elanna didn't like to admit she was wrong. Crowing would get her mad. Besides, there wasn't any point. She was already thinking about it, which was what he wanted. She also knew what it was like to be discriminated against. Now, if only he could duplicate this at the hearing, he'd be set.
"Besides," she said, and smiled wanly. "I thought she was making a play for you."
"She's not," he assured her.
"I can see that. She's into Harry."
Tom chuckled. "You think?"
She stared at him wryly, seeming more like the old B'Elanna. "Can't you tell? "
"I was afraid it might be wishful thinking," he deadpanned.
"Well, it's not. She's interested in him. I don't see how you can miss it."
Tom chuckled.
"Well," she continued, "I still don't understand why you've got such a bee in your bonnet about this...but all right. Good luck."
That was about as much of an apology as he was going to get, but it would do. He felt better, actually. There was still a lot to do. All the same, he had a lot to work with. There was a ton of anti-discrimination law in the database. He was pretty confident that Harry and Seven would pull something together. At least he had a free hand if Kessel's parents had to come into it. On the whole, Tom thought, Dr. Kessel's testimony would help a lot more than hurt. It was easy to argue against the original scientists who had thought creating supermen would be a good idea; it was a heck of a lot harder to argue against a man who argued that civilized people protected innocent life. The old scientist had even gotten B'Elanna to rethink the issue. From long experience, Thomas Paris knew this was not easy.
As he went to join his people, Paris found himself feeling pretty confident.