Chapter 6

Harry Kim was no longer finding life at the Aldebaran work camp tolerable. In addition to the unbearable heat, insufficient quantities of food and clean water, and mind-numbing labor of digging up rocks with potentially valuable minerals – all of which he felt he could reasonably handle for a few days – there was the growing problem of his role as social outcast.

It didn't take long after lunch for Chakotay to talk to Harry One about his counterpart's opposition to violence and his political views. From there the problem just seemed to grow. A number of prisoners, the same people he was beginning to care about, had called him a traitor to his face. Even more were simply ignoring his existence.

Perhaps the most excruciating moment came when Annika sashayed up to him, took a rock from his hand, threw it into the cart, and promptly slugged him. "You're not half the man Harry One is," she said. "I'm changing your name."

It was turning out to be a long day.

Harry was keeping a careful eye on Tom, who was continuing his work with noticeable effort. It was clear that he was dehydrated and growing weak. Since Tom was the only person at the camp who, like him, didn't seem that interested in annihilating the Cardassians, Harry decided to take a chance joining him at dinner.

"How are you doing, Nick?" He had been careful not to reveal he knew things about Tom that Tom hadn't told him – his name being the first.

"I'm okay," the man lied.

"No, you're not," Harry said gently. "I made three trips for each one you made this afternoon."

Tom eyed him over his soup. "Are you going to tell the guards?"

"No, of course not. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"What do you care? Once they start the liberation of the camp, I'll be the first one caught in the phaser fire."

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked with surprise.

"I'm not like Harry or Chakotay. I'm not strong like that."

Harry gave him a smile. "You're wrong."

Tom slurped another spoonful of the gray soup. "What do you know about me?"

It's now or never. "I know your real name is Tom Paris," Harry said quietly. Tom looked up at him in alarm. "It's okay – I won't tell anyone. In my universe you're my best friend, and you're one of the most fearless people I know. Sometimes," he added with a chuckle, "it's not fearlessness so much as recklessness."

"That's not me."

"I know." Harry flipped his spoon around in his hand thoughtfully. "But I think there are certain qualities that transcend the different universes. Take Chakotay. In my universe he's not as violent, but he's still a leader like that. Always fighting against injustice, always inspiring people to follow him."

Tom didn't answer but continued eating.

After a long moment Harry resumed. "And you – you're just as opposed to everything Chakotay suggests as the Tom in my world. See? I think you and Tom have a lot in common. I'll bet fate brought you to this camp. Chakotay and Harry are both too violent. Maybe the Terrans need a leader who will suggest something different to them – something like equality."

"No! You keep talking about independence and equality, and all you're doing is getting everyone's hopes up. We're Terrans," Tom said emphatically, his disdain for his own species plainly evident. "We'll never be as strong as the Klingons or as smart as the Cardassians. We were born to serve them." He rose from the bench and grabbed his bowl and spoon. "And I don't want to be a hero. Heroes always end up dead."

"Why are we dropping out of warp?" B'Elanna demanded, marching across the small ready room. "Have we already reached the labor camp?"

She watched Damar draw in a breath. "We located a person of some interest."

"Who?"

"They're bringing him to you now. He's a known member of the Terran Rebellion. He cost fifty leks. He'd better be worth it."

The doors to the room slid open, and two guards entered, each holding one arm of the prisoner.

"Tuvok?" B'Elanna took a few steps forward out of the shadows to inspect him. Apart from the unattractive goatee the man was sporting, he looked like Tuvok. But there was something sinister in his eyes that told her Vulcans in this reality didn't practice the ritual purging of emotions. "You're with the Terran Rebellion?"

"I was," Tuvok snarled. "For a time. But I was confused. Sisko is a dangerous man." He shook his head with clear contempt. "I'm cured now. I know my allegiance – and it's to the Alliance."

"Well, good," B'Elanna improvised. "I need to know I can trust you." Part of her wanted to heave a sigh. Why was it that in any universe Tuvok betrayed whatever rebel forces he joined? She looked to Damar for guidance, and she could see the disappointment he was trying to mask.

"Find him some quarters," he instructed the guards. As they started to lead Tuvok away, he added for good measure, "But keep an eye on him."

B'Elanna turned her attention back to Damar once the doors had closed. "How exactly did they 'cure' him?" she demanded.

Damar shrugged. "Dr. Moset has been experimenting with exoneurology."

His cavalier explanation angered her beyond control. She shoved him against the bulkhead, her elbow at his throat, just threatening to cut off his air supply. "In other words, you brainwashed him. Reprogrammed him."

"I didn't do anything," he reminded her.

She drove her elbow into his thick gray flesh. "I want you to tell the Cardassians to leave my friends alone."

"Your friends? Terrans and Vulcans? Do I have to remind you that I'm your only friend here for the moment?"

With a growl she shoved him harder and then walked away. He was right, she knew. It wasn't her Tuvok being persuaded to follow the Alliance, and as much as she disliked Damar, he was trying to help the Rebellion.

"I don't belong here," she said aloud, though not really to him.

Damar laughed. "That is an entirely moot point. I'm sorry about Tuvok. He would have been helpful in defeating the Alliance, but there's nothing we can do about him now. You're going to have to develop a thicker skin if this is going to work."

"Maybe if I grew scales like you, Damar." B'Elanna crossed her arms over her chest and began pacing the room. "I don't know why I agreed to help you in the first place. As a Starfleet officer, I'm not supposed to get involved in other people's conflicts."

Damar laughed again, further enraging her. "What a convenient philosophy. You know, you're right. Why don't I just get you to a shuttlepod, and you can be on your merry way? Oh, that's right, because you have no way of getting home. You need me. And you're going to do what I say if you want to get out of here alive."

"Fine." B'Elanna turned sharply on her heel to face him. "But let's get one thing straight. The less you and I have to interact, the more cooperative I'll be, got it?"

"Whatever you say, Sub-regent."