Chapter One Mission
It was October 11, 2380, a crisp fall day in San Francisco no different than most this time of year. The Coast Live Oak evergreen trees within the intergalactically-famous Golden Gate Park had already turned color; a sure sign of seasonal change. Reddening leaves contrasted with the Park's famous topiaries, raised flower beds, and the meticulously-manicured lawns occupied by numerous people out for a cool-weather picnic or walking their dogs. More than a few joggers dodged lovers strolling along the paths on this Saturday afternoon, holding each other tightly and stealing a kiss or two.
Today the air traffic was particularly active so no one paid much attention to the silver and red Starfleet shuttle that circled overhead. The rectangular object gracefully made its final approach to the Crissy Field Shuttle Pad just off Mason Street within the Presidio of San Francisco, descending from the north and then cruising west over the Golden Gate Bridge. The gentle deceleration gradually turned bumpy as the craft slithered through the ever-present up and down drafts that the bay area was notorious for. Still, Lieutenant Scott Grimes was able to control the pitch and yaw, turning eastward to touch down ever-so-lightly upon the designated landing pad. After a few minutes the whining engines shut down and a side door panel opened. A set of stairs unfolded and two Starfleet personnel dropped down to secure it to the fuselage. Crewman Zayra Cabot gave thumbs up to Petty Officer Third Class and Flight Chief Valerie Canamar who then contacted the pilot.
Moments later a slim thirty-one-year-old Starfleet officer appeared in the doorway, resplendent in the gold-toned uniform of an engineer. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres had awoken suddenly from a restfully deep sleep, stretching her body as she waited for her stomachs to settle from what had been a bouncy descent. Still, it was so good to finally be free of the confined space that had dominated her month-long trip from Deep Space Nine. Flipping back her perfectly-coifed brown hair, those brown eyes of hers glanced around, once again taking in the distant but familiar sites of the more than 1500 acres that constituted the Presidio.
B'Elanna noted the tall and ultramodern Starfleet Headquarters building now occupying the former location of the demolished San Francisco Film Centre. Starfleet Academy with its expansive campus remained off of Girard Road and Lincoln Boulevard just as she remembered it, although when arriving she thought the buildings looked slightly different. To the south and not too far in the distance was the Starfleet Intergalactic Cemetery just off of Main Drive with its large traffic circle. And, of course, the massive Starfleet General Hospital was positioned near Wright Loop.
Weary from her trip and wondering why she was here to begin with, her troubled mind tried to also cope with recently discovering that her husband of eight years, Commander Max Burke, had vanished. His ship, the USS Equinox, disappeared without a trace just over four months ago. That stress, coupled with leaving her daughter behind at the space station, was more than apparent on her otherwise beautiful and exotic visage.
More than depressed, her tortured brain resurrected a song her husband sang to her when she was sick or just feeling blue. It dated to 2010; sung by Skylar Grey. It always provided words of comfort to her. Some of those lyrics came back now. I'm coming home, I'm coming home, tell the world I'm coming home. Let the rain wash away, all the pain of yesterday.
"Lieutenant Torres?" A pleasant voice interrupted her thoughts and greeted the half-Klingon as she descended the stairs.
"Yes." Looking up from her highly-shined black boots, Torres observed a Starfleet commander wearing the gold braid of an Admiral's aide-de-camp. She rendered the customary hand salute, which was returned.
"I'm Commander Kristine Fernandez. Admiral Paris' aide. The Admiral wanted me to thank you for coming on short notice and looks forward to meeting you once more. He remembers you from the Academy and wanted me to tell you that you were a brilliant but slightly…umm…unruly engineering student." She laughed.
Torres grunted and managed a grin. So true. That certainly was a while ago. Having been born on Kessik IV in 2349, she had graduated with the class of 2371. Her husband Max was two years older, born in 2347, and his class was 2369. Like her, he had made it somehow although the two had often talked about dropping out. And it was true, about her being unruly that is. She may have been gifted but was also so rebellious. A scarred past from childhood abandonment by her father John Torres was part of it. Having a dominating mother Miral who tried to turn her into a Klingon warrior as a 'matter of honor' didn't help. Back then her temper always seemed to be on a short string, although Max certainly loved that scary Klingon side of hers, especially in the sack. Still, it was any wonder how she managed to graduate, given her then-volatile and non-compliant nature.
Looking around at the shuttle field caused her to chuckle a bit. Everything was so 'dress right, dress' according to regulations. Equal spacing between shuttlecraft was a given and every nose was perfectly aligned and pointed in the same direction. Pitot tubes were covered with safety flags in place. Skids were chock-blocked. Detailed personnel were policing up trash to prevent foreign object damage to engines. Security guards patrolled the area to keep the curious and unauthorized at bay. Everything told her that she was once again at those all-to-familiar grounds she once prowled for years. It was a bit comforting, she supposed.
There was so much order, however, that she just had to laugh out loud. As a cadet she often found Starfleet's rules and regimentation confining and dreamed of just calling it quits and going to Q'onoS to explore her family roots. That notion often took wings after having a few beers or screwing Burke into the throws of orgasm. But sometimes when they basked in the afterglow of physical passion she and he would lie in each other's arms and talk about their hopes and dreams and especially their future together after graduation. They talked about everything to include hair-brained ideas about joining a paramilitary group called the Maquis. That particular memory made her laugh. In truth, she had always looked for a structured purpose in life and that bunch offered it in spades if you could survive. But now as a career officer she supposed that Starfleet had scratched that itch.
Being married to Max was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Traveling through life together with a man who loved her just because she was B'Elanna Torres was something she often thought impossible. But their marriage had provided the family she had always wanted. Pride swelled within her, for she had given him a beautiful daughter. She missed both of them so much.
"This way, Lieutenant." The engineer automatically walked to the left of Fernandez in deference to her superior's rank while she took in the ground crew now servicing the shuttle. Then one ship caught her eye, for it was parked by itself in the northwest corner. It was a beauty; a machine like she had never seen before. It was swept back, sleek, and obviously built for speed. For some reason it just called to her. Probably an Admiral's personal conveyance or maybe even privately-owned. What she would not give to take a check out ride in that thing!
The two officers strode across the landing pad to a waiting VIP hovercar, its door held open by the driver who stood rigidly at attention. B'Elanna knew she really should not talk with him but could not resist. To her there was nothing wrong with taking a moment to talk with enlisted personnel. So she courteously said hello and asked a few brief questions. He smiled; an officer had actually taken an interest in him.
The enlisted man saluted. "I'm Petty Officer Second Class John Chichester, Ma'am. Been driving for Admiral Paris a few months now. Before that I served on a Starship in operations. Seems like it was forever ago. Being ashore is a bit dull, if you know what I mean. But this is a good gig. No complaints, Ma'am. Thanks for asking."
"Starfleet Headquarters, John. Most direct route." Fernandez fumbled with her PADD, checking the Admiral's schedule and responding to inquiries from various section chiefs.
"Yes, Ma'am."
Paris' aide kept looking at her PADD but periodically tossed a fleeting glance at her back-seat companion. By her face alone she could see that Torres' mind was turning over why she was here. Kristine could understand that. One minute Lieutenant Torres was Chief Engineer on the USS Orion up to her ass in a major warp and impulse engine repair while the ship was dry-docked at Deep Space Nine. The next moment she was standing in front of ship's Captain and Commander Brannon Braga who informed her that she was being sent to Earth for an urgent mission. Right now.
At first she thought it was to help find her husband's ship but that was not it at all. This had something to do with someone she had briefly known back at the Academy, a Thomas Eugene Paris. The details were few; just pack and go. An Admiral awaited and a notoriously impatient one at that.
As B'Elanna was being hastily briefed in the ship's ward room she barely remembered Tom Paris. He was an acquaintance of Max's in the loosest sense, a cadet she periodically studied with or shared a pizza when she wasn't with Burke. Tom and Max did not get along at all really, the proverbial oil and water. They relentlessly argued over things and the Academy rumor mill insisted she had something to do with it. Paris thought Burke was not treating her properly or some other nonsense. Max had always regarded her with respect and tried to tell Tom that his relationship with his girlfriend was none of his business. Burke was a kind and gentle man whose nickname for her was 'BLT;' her initials turned into their personal joke about a sandwich of the same name.
So when informed that she had to leave immediately B'Elanna did what any dedicated officer would do when working on a major project: she protested. But the 'request' had come from a full Admiral for her by name and no one was ever going to question that. That much she understood.
"So, may I call you B'Elanna?" Fernandez was looking at Torres in a matter-of-fact way while seeking to eat up the transit time with some idle chatter. "I understand you had a baby just over two years ago. Congratulations."
Miral! Torres wondered how she was doing, left in the care of her shipmate and best friend Ensign Megan Delaney. "Sure, Ma'am. B'Elanna is fine. And yes, I did. A girl. Miral. She's two and a half."
That memory caused her to glance at her empty ring finger. She rubbed it and cursed to herself because she recalled taking it off. Stupid. She had stuck it in that pot of grease on that damned warp coil access console so it would not slide off her hand and get lost in freshly-packed lubricant. Left it on the Orion. Hopefully Crewman John Dell would find it. He worked in Engineering so she would send him a PADD message. If he could not find it, Neelix would. That Talaxian trader had a nose for jewelry.
Paris' aide snuck another glance at Torres, watching her knead her ring finger but said nothing. "Pretty name. Miral. Family, I suppose. So when was the last time you were at the Presidio and Headquarters? Still like you remember it?"
Torres rubbed her forehead ridges and thought a moment as she looked out the window. "Not since the Academy. Definitely changed a bit. I noticed the campus buildings are greyer now and there are more of them. But memory fades over time. Not all of them are good ones, although I met my husband here."
"Commander Max Burke. So you haven't been back since graduation? I thought everyone comes home. Some return to teach and there are always class reunions going on."
"Not for us. Career demands took us away, Max and me. After my graduation we got married right away. Couldn't wait! Then we were separated for nearly a year while I went through basic officer training just over there in Draper Hall. After that, more time spent in specialized education and training in starship propulsion and systems. Then I finally joined him on Rebus Major; he was Deputy Commander for Operations and I became the Chief of Facility Maintenance."
She sighed. "Of course, none of my training and education applied to what I was actually doing. Typical Starfleet." Chief of Facility Maintenance. That lofty but misleading title the service was so fond of. More like supervising work crews unplugging toilets and fixing leaking pipes! Absolute scud work. Not the best days of her still young Starfleet career.
Fernandez pursed her lips and looked at her PADD. "It says from your personnel files that you both complained constantly and demanded a joint assignment to a starship. At one point you two were insubordinate to your supervisor, a Lieutenant Commander Robert Blackman. He dished out an official reprimand for you both. Then you and Max recertified the psyche and physical evaluations for extended space duty but there were no openings even though Blackman wanted to get rid of you two. After what, four years of Burke managing the outpost and you turning wrenches on commodes, there was finally the SS Texas assignment?"
Torres shuddered. The SS Texas! God, that ship was horrible. "Yes. That…umm…flying maintenance challenge." More like a garbage scow. So antiquated. "A Starfleet-contracted freighter. We took it to be together and get into space, Ma'am. If we had other options we would have jumped on it."
"Well, we all have to do what we must to serve Starfleet and the greater good, don't we, B'Elanna?" She sent a message to Headquarters that she was five minutes out with Torres. "But from there you split up. You went to the Orion and he was off to the Equinox for separate assignments. A bit unusual with you being seven months pregnant at the time, don't you think? Nothing going on there? Personal-wise?"
An irritated expression emerged on Torres' countenance. Aides were such dog-robbing sycophant assholes, always fishing to give their boss information that never showed up in the records. Being whacked from her trip was not the best time to ask deeply personal questions and her testy nature was being poked. Her obvious annoyance came out. "Look, Commander, Max and I love each other. We did what we had to do. It wasn't fun and games being pregnant on the Orion and not having my husband around. No one should ever be apart from their husband and especially when you are having a baby, Starfleet or not. You know he had to take that three-year position because if you ever turn down command even once your career is over. And this is a Nova-class vessel we are talking about. An opening in Engineering will happen eventually. Ma'am."
Fernandez smirked but said nothing, examining her PADD screen for smudges. Torres was obviously peeved but then calmed down. "Sorry. To not know where my husband is right now…." Then she shrugged. "No offense meant but I'm tired and not my usual bubbly self today, Ma'am."
"Understandable. No offense taken." Fernandez made a quick entry on her PADD, turning it away so Torres could not see the notes she had written there. Her smirk, however, was obvious.
/
The hovercar arrived at Starfleet Headquarters without incident. The grinning driver dutifully opened the passenger door, thanking his lucky stars that he was not married to Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres. She required special handling and far more patience than he and most of the Alpha Quadrant possessed.
Fernandez and Torres quickly entered the headquarters building. Security officers Lieutenant Louise Dorton and Ensign Arlene Fukai went through Torres' possessions and scanned her lithe body. "Drop your bags there, B'Elanna, and follow me." Fernandez was already moving with her hand up and a finger curling to indicate the way.
Torres quickly followed Fernandez into a turbolift and up to the twenty-seventh floor to the command conference room known affectionately as 'The Fishbowl.' The door opened to reveal a large room with glass on three sides and a glass ceiling. It could be built that way because it projected outwards from the building, offering a spectacular view of San Francisco that took Torres' breath away. In the middle was a long table occupied by four individuals, Admiral Owen Paris, Captain Chakotay, Commander Kathryn Janeway, and Commander Deanna Troi.
Troi spoke first. "Welcome, Lieutenant Torres. We hope you had a pleasant flight? Please, sit down over there. Coffee?" She indicated that the officer should sit at one end of the table.
B'Elanna complied. "Nothing special, Ma'am. Long. A bit tiring. Could use a cup. What's this all about?"
"Introductions first, Lieutenant." She poured some coffee all around. Janeway held up a hand. "None for me, thanks. Never touch the stuff." She held up a bottle and shook it. "See. Water."
Troi gave an 'oops' reaction. "Sorry. I am Commander Deanna Troi, Starfleet Deputy Counselor for Rehabilitative Affairs. You may remember Admiral Owen Paris from your Academy days. He is now the Director of Project MIDAS." The Admiral nodded and slightly raised a wrinkled hand. Torres grinned sheepishly. As Rear Admiral and Senior Tactical Officer Paris back in the day, Owen had chewed her ass off more than once. "Captain Chakotay is an instructor at the Academy and once taught you tactics, I think. And this is his wife, Commander Kathryn Janeway. She is Starfleet Assistant Deputy for Personnel, Alpha Quadrant Assignments."
There were some pleasantries and leaning-over-the-table handshakes all around. Then Admiral Paris indicated he was taking over the conversation, for the moment. "I asked you to come here, Lieutenant Torres, because we need your help. What do you know about Veridian III and an El-Aurian scientist, Doctor Tolian Soran?"
The half-Klingon grinned as she recognized the code. Admirals always 'ask' but it really means 'Do it.' Searching her brain and coming up empty, Torres responded. "Nothing. Should I, Admiral?"
"No, and I did not think so. But I needed to ask. Let us explain. Captain Chakotay?"
The Starfleet instructor rubbed the prominent tattoo on his forehead and pushed back his black leather chair to stand up. "Thank you, Admiral. So, Lieutenant, this will require a bit of a history lesson. Know you are tired. Stay with me now. Drink more coffee." He activated a visual program that he embellished with conversation. "In 2293, this ship, the USS Enterprise-B, was on its maiden voyage commanded by the man you see there, newly-appointed Captain John Harriman. Also aboard was this officer, retired Starfleet Rear Admiral James T. Kirk, along with some other retired members of his former crew. At some point, the Enterprise discovered two El-Aurian vessels within an energy band, a gravitational anomaly known as 'The Ribbon' or 'Nexus.' The Enterprise saved some of the El-Aurians but Admiral Kirk was thought to be killed. He wasn't but was trapped inside and later found. You following this so far or are you nodding off?"
"Yes, Sir. I'm with you." I'm tired but not bad-mannered like you obviously are.
"Fine. Just stay awake, Torres. One of the survivors was Soran. He was taken off a trapped ship called the SS Lakul. Soran is a very sad case. His wife Leandra and his children were killed when their world was taken over by the Borg. Soran escaped with some others aboard the Lakul and another ship, the SS Robert Fox. On the way to Earth the two vessels were drawn into the gravitational distortion, which crosses our galaxy every 39.1 years. As it turns out, the Nexus anomaly is fed by The Ribbon, an energy mass that acts as the doorway to it. Within that distortion time has no meaning. It is like being wrapped in a blanket of pure happiness. There he was able to recreate his life and live it with his deceased family, although it was pure fantasy."
Torres looked on with horror. How terrible to be feeling that much emotional pain to be living that way!
"Unfortunately, his dream abruptly ended when Harriman's ship beamed him and some others out of there. After extensive psychological treatment he ranted and raved to be returned to his endless daydream. His demands were unreasonable and went unheeded. So he spent decades trying to figure out a plan to get back and reenter that dream world once more. His concept came together five years ago."
"How awful for him! So I have something to do with his plan?" Torres was still trying to understand why she was here.
At that point Commander Janeway took over. "In a way, yes, B'Elanna. Soran figured out that if he destroyed two stars near Nexus, the explosion would alter the gravitational field and bring it closer to the Veridian system where he located himself. So years after he formulated his plan he began working with two Klingon sisters from the House of Duras, Lursa and B'Etor. They provide Soran with stolen Romulan trilithium to weaponize a missile and then destroy one star. But he failed to destroy the second one, the Veridian star. The Ribbon and Nexus moved but not far enough to completely alter its orbital path."
Janeway drank some water before continuing the story. "A year ago, Nexus enveloped the USS Enterprise-D, which was commanded by Captain Jean-Luc Picard. He was chasing after Soran. Picard was able to avoid having his ship being drawn into Nexus. While escaping its pull he discovered more survivors. Admiral Kirk was one of them. It took a bit but Picard rescued them, treating them initially on board and bringing them back to San Francisco. All have recovered from their personal fantasies. All but one." Casting a nervous glance at Admiral Paris, Janeway looked for another bottle of water. She drank this stuff like others drank coffee.
Now Torres became more than curious. "All but one, Ma'am? Who? Soran?"
Finding the bottle, she unscrewed the cap and took a swig. "We'll get to whom in a moment. No, not Soran. He was institutionalized for further treatment but has since escaped custody and fled Earth. We know from Starfleet intelligence that he is now working with the Duras sisters once more to acquire more Romulan trilithium. He again plans to destroy the Veridian star so he can move the anomaly to his planned entry location. But he has a problem. We are watching that area carefully and he knows it. So now we think his plans have changed. His best option is to not detonate a trilithium weapon but to get his hands on a ship, probably a slow moving merchant, and allow it to be pulled into The Ribbon and then Nexus. Once there he relives his fantasy life again."
Torres was shocked. This man was so hurt and so desperate. And evil. He was destroying stars and their systems without remorse. Billions of beings were dying just to ease his personal pain. And he was trying to hijack a vessel and maybe take that crew with him into Nexus.
"So why not just give him one? I know for a fact that there are enough junk hulks lying around waiting to be scrapped. I've salvaged more than my share."
"We thought of that. But there is a complication even if we did it. It would take a hell of a lot of flying skill to get in there safely without excessive damage. You see, B'Elanna, The Ribbon is narrow, volatile, and twisty as it draws a ship into Nexus. One mistake and you could be destroyed. Many ships were. Soran is a gifted scientist but no pilot. So as long as he is denied a ship with a skilled helmsman we have that much going for us. With Federation Council approval, Starfleet ordered a naval quarantine on the area. All vessels transiting near the Veridian system and Veridian III and IV in particular are on high alert and must be escorted by a Starfleet vessel."
Now the half-Klingon thought she knew what was going on. "So I have something to do with that ship and the pilot he wants? Is it the Orion he is after? Or did he go after the Equinox? Max is one hell of a pilot."
There were a few looks around the table and Janeway looked a bit startled, drinking yet another bottle of water. She was wiggling in her seat now, her bladder nearing overload. Water, like coffee and beer, could never be bought, only rented. "No. Umm…not exactly, B'Elanna. He's not after those ships. Your being here has nothing to do with them."
Now Admiral Paris was speaking once more, a bit of firmness in his voice as he drummed the table with his fingers. He was an Admiral; command and impatience ruled his life. "You have nothing to do with any of that, Lieutenant. But you needed to know what happened to understand why you are here. You see, you have everything to do with my son, Tom, and his recent removal from The Ribbon and Nexus."
Torres blinked. Tom Paris? Now she was given her third refill of fresh coffee, which she sipped.
"Deanna? Explain, please, for Lieutenant Torres."
"Yes, Sir." Troi produced a PADD and handed it to Torres. "This device contains the personnel and medical files of one Thomas Eugene Paris, former Starfleet Ensign and…I…umm…." She looked pleadingly at Admiral Paris. "Do you want me to continue, Admiral?"
"Go ahead, Deanna. I'm his father. I certainly know the deal."
"Yes, Admiral. Okay. To continue, he is a drunkard, gambler, womanizer, failed officer, and former Federation prisoner in Auckland, New Zealand's home for wayward boys and girls. You will be reading his personnel and medical files but the abbreviated version is that he is an undisciplined malcontent suffering from psychosis who killed several of his friends in a joyride shuttle accident on Caldik Prime early in his career. He was charged with reckless endangerment of others leading to death, which carried a ten-year sentence upon conviction. He knew that so to avoid a conviction he lied under oath at his general court-martial. That led to his being cashiered out of Starfleet and the full ten years in the New Zealand slammer. Good behavior reduced his time and he ended up with other lost souls in a paramilitary organization called the Maquis. For two years."
Troi drank some coffee as she kept an eye on Torres. Those eyelids were a bit droopy but she was nonetheless hanging in there. Good for her. "One of their ships, the Liberty, became trapped in The Ribbon and was forced into Nexus. Paris was the pilot. From what the survivors say he was the only reason they were not destroyed in the turbulence. The Liberty took one hell of a beating but it managed to get in because of his incredible skill. It could get out, of course, but no one wanted to leave. Everyone latched on to a fantasy that they began to live. They have all been cured now except for Paris. He is still living that fantasy, one he fabricated. That is where you come in, Lieutenant Torres."
"You said he still is? Why? I'm listening, Ma'am. Really. Both ears." She nervously tapped her cup with a spoon.
"Glad to hear that. It has to do with Paris being an emotionally damaged man. A very troubled man." She looked at Admiral Paris who indicated she should continue. "He believes his father, Admiral Paris, does not love him. That is not true. In actuality, Tom was always treated with love and compassion. True, he was pushed hard as a child. But no more so than any legacy son or daughter with a senior officer father or mother preparing their children for a Starfleet career and the Admiralty. You are Academy, B'Elanna. You know this happens to the children of flag officers, as a matter of routine. They are always groomed for success. But Paris never accepted that and became a rebel without a cause, so to speak. Later he sought fatherly approval in life. But he lost that by becoming a discredited officer. The Admiral...thinks less of him because the Paris line of male admirals ended with Tom. Tom Paris could not face up to his own failings so now he thinks that he is a rehabilitated scoundrel who turned his life around on a Starship called the USS Voyager."
"Voyager?" Torres searched her memory and again came up empty. "No such ship exists unless it is being built right now. But I would know that. The Starfleet Quarterly always lists what is being contracted, the acquisition and build progress, projected launchings, and space trials unless it is black operations. Personnel assignment officers have to know because they assign crews by a table of organization and it affects recruiting quotas."
"All true. So Tom made this ship up, a way to create a world where he is a success story. He desperately wants to please his father, to have Admiral Paris be proud of him. So in this world of his, Tom Paris was Chief Helmsman and one hell of a pilot on Voyager under Captain Kathryn Janeway and First Officer Chakotay. He compiled quite the distinguished record as a Junior Lieutenant, although he relates how he was busted once to Ensign for insubordination and spent a month in the Brig. He even thinks that Voyager returned to Earth from the Delta Quadrant after being stranded there for seven years. Are you staying with me so far? Not too complicated?"
Torres hastily drank some more coffee. "Yes, Ma'am. Still here. Loud and clear. Obviously, he's a very disturbed person."
That evoked some nervous laughter and nods all around. "He is. And more than you think. Tom Paris believes that his time on Voyager caused him and the ship's female Chief Engineer to develop a friendship. A very strong bond, actually. It grew deeper over time and eventually they fell in love. That led to them becoming lovers. After three years of being together they married and later had a daughter. Tom's wife in this make-believe world of his is…you."
Torres spat out her coffee and some of it went up her nose. She hastily wiped off her tunic and Troi handed her a napkin. "Sorry…what! His wife? And me having a child with him? He is crazy! Why the hell would he even think that? We barely knew each other at the Academy. He was a senior when I was a freshman. I think I had an engineering class with him but we were just friends socially and never close. How can he even think that?" Torres was angry and hurt, clenching and unclenching her right fist.
Deanna shook her head, as she took the sopping wet napkin from Torres and tossed into a disposal. "We don't know. You obviously made an impression upon him at some point. But you are also the key to his recovery. Unlike all the other patients who came out of Nexus, Tom Paris has not responded to treatment of any kind."
"But you said all the others recovered. And Soran was married once and he responded enough to know he wants to go back. I am sure a few of those survivors dreamed about their spouses, as well. Why not Paris? I'm not even married to him."
"You nailed it on the head. Why not Paris? The critical question. As a professional Betazoid counselor I can tell you it is because he just won't let go of you. In Soran's world, his wife was dead and he already had let go of her until he encountered Nexus. None of the others were married, although a few were divorced. You see, Tom Paris' entire world is you. He knows you are alive; he says that constantly. So you are a conduit in his mind, a way for him to remain connected to this fake reality of his. As long as he thinks he is married to you he has, how should I put it…." She was tapping the table looking for the right words.
"...a reason to live. I give him a reason to live." Torres finished Troi's thought out loud. She had no idea why. It just came out.
Troi stopping tapping and blinked; the shocked look on her face more than obvious. A few of the others sitting at the table shifted nervously. But Admiral Paris was nodding his head in agreement.
"Ma'am, what did I say?" Torres quickly picked up that what she had said struck a nerve.
Troi moistened her lips and gathered her thoughts. "Umm…Tom Paris has said those exact same words to us over and over in therapy. He did talk of suicide once when he accused us of keeping you from him. We do not think he was serious but he is under constant watch now. He has never left the hospital building because he is a threat to himself, not just others."
She waited for that to sink in. Torres could not believe what she was hearing. Tom Paris was truly messed up.
"But you are his reason to live, B'Elanna, in his fabricated world. And someone else who is very dear to him is also a motive. Not only does he stubbornly insist that you are his wife, he claims he has a daughter whose name is Miral. That is the name of your daughter, isn't it?"
Torres nodded in amazement at the coincidence. "Yes. Miral." As she thought of her daughter an image came to mind. She was holding an infant Miral and breastfeeding her. All of a sudden she could feel the comforting and loving arm of her husband around her shoulders and she nuzzled into him, taking in his scent. But that was not possible. Max had never met his daughter yet. Merely wishful thinking on her part.
Now she rubbed her empty ring finger and part of that song again filled her thoughts. Still far away from where I belong. But it's always darkest before the dawn. So you can doubt. And you can hate. But I know no matter what it takes. I'm coming home, I'm coming home….
"Lieutenant Torres?"
She shook her head to clear it. "Sorry, Ma'am. Just tired. But how would he know about Miral…?"
"Another curious question but one simply answered this time. We know he accessed a computer terminal for several hours aboard the Enterprise-D. He was caught looking at Starfleet Academy personnel files of past classmates, student acquaintances, and friends. Apparently he found yours. It's all there; that you are married to Max Burke and have a daughter, Miral. He did that more than ten months ago. But all that did was reinforce his fantasy. He denies that you are married to Burke and insists Max is…well, I'll just leave it at that."
Torres' chewed this over and over as she assessed her current situation. Her husband, Max, is missing. Because of this jerk Paris she is separated from her almost three-year-old daughter who needs her. And now this lunatic thinks he is her mate. This is absolutely nuts! All she ever wanted to be was a Starfleet officer and engineer aboard a Starship, living a normal life in space with a careerist husband and children who loved her.
"So what do I do about it?"
Everyone looked at Admiral Paris who raised a finger and the table group clammed up. "I got this. In my career to date, Lieutenant, I have always been honest with people. So I will be that way with you." He leaned forward, hands clasped. "If it was up to me, I would just let him rot in his personal heaven."
Several mouths dropped. As a parent, Torres was stunned.
Paris wiped his face. "Sure, I was glad to see him when he came back from Nexus. But as I told Commander Troi and Doctor Beverly Crusher at the time, just let Tommy live in that world of his creation. He became content, I suppose. That was the way it was for several months. But then, well, there is…Julia. She's my wife and cries constantly over this situation. Julia wants our son back, warts and all. As do his older sisters, Moira and Kathleen, and their husbands and children. Tom's nieces and nephews actually like him. They think their Uncle Tommy is…what is the term they use? Oh, yes. Deft."
From Academy days Torres knew Admiral Paris was not the fuzziest person on the planet. But how could he care so little about his own son? Okay, some parents were like that, she supposed. And many kids despised their father or mother, even as adults. In this case, however, she knew there was more here. She was no legacy but Tom was. They were right about legacies. Being one opened a lot of career path secret back channels but it also meant great responsibility. Tom had failed his father by not living up to that burden, unlike all those men in his family who had come before him.
"And that is not all. Tom is my only son. If he stays this way, insane, the Paris bloodline ends. There will never be a male Paris to continue it because I have no male siblings. I, we as a family, need him to marry a woman and produce a legitimate male heir. If that does not happen he fails to maintain a Starfleet and naval tradition of male service tracing to when Ensign Jedidiah Paris served on the first USS Enterprise in 1799 and fought Barbary pirates off of Tripoli in 1801. If you can open Tommy's mind then maybe, just maybe, he will eventually find someone, get married, and have male kids who will join Starfleet. But maybe that is my fantasy. As if any woman would actually have him."
The room was deathly quiet. No one dared speak right now.
Owen looked straight at Torres and continued. "Okay, this all sounds harsh. But having a son like him is a father's biggest disappointment. We've talked this over at length, Julia and the girls and me. So I, we, am willing to give this one more shot. Deanna believes that the last chance to bring Tom back to reality is to have you interact with him, not as his wife but as a concerned friend. To convince my…son…that you are not married to each other. To have him confront the truth in person so he will let go of you. Once that happens, his mental conduit with Nexus will break. He should recover and hopefully get on with his life."
Troi nodded in agreement. "He has a poor prognosis right now but with this method he has a very good chance, Admiral. We have used this technique with divorced Nexus patients who stubbornly thought they were married or in other relationships. It took a bit of time but it did work eventually, even though in this case he is married to you, Lieutenant Torres, only in his mind."
Now Commander Janeway chimed in. "B'Elanna, you have been temporarily assigned duty here and have been placed on a leave of absence from the Orion. It isn't going anywhere anyway. That engine overhaul should take maybe seven or eight months to finish as it is. True?"
Torres shook her head. "No, Ma'am. It was nearly completed when I left. We just got impulse drive back and it is ready for trials under load. And for warp, all that remains is to replace…." Something made her stop in mid-sentence as she watched everyone suddenly become very interested. "No, sorry, I made a mistake now. Silly me. I must really be tired. It will take that long to just fabricate parts for the warp coils and plasma inductors. The depots are backlogged with orders and the Orion is a third-priority vessel. But I am very concerned about Miral. I don't want to be separated from her for long."
Janeway was tellingly compassionate. "We understand, B'Elanna. She is in good hands right now, as you know. Once MIDAS comes back online you can speak with her. Starfleet does not approve of transporting two-year-olds unescorted without a parent but I will look into options to bring her here and send the request through my superior and normal comms channels. I know that the USS Marengo is due at Deep Space Nine in a month. Captain Merri Howard will be returning here once the mission is completed. Maybe we can arrange for Miral to come with her. No promises but I will check. Okay, B'Elanna?"
Torres nodded with some relief. "Thanks, Ma'am. It would ease my anxiety a bit. Especially now, with Max missing. What next?"
Everyone looked back at Commander Troi who took over the conversation. "Read over Paris' records. Learn what you can about what he thinks is his past and the life he has with you. Then you will observe him for a while without his knowledge to evaluate his behavior patterns. Once we determine that you have a good idea about how to best engage him, therapy will begin. Several short sessions at first to win his confidence and then longer ones to convince him that he is not married to you. Once he accepts that then we turn him over to our professional staff to complete his recovery. You go back to the Orion and Miral, if she is still not with you. Questions?"
"A few, for now. What if he doesn't? Accept the truth, I mean."
That occasioned some nervous coughing around the table. Troi was a bit perturbed but a question was a question and there was nothing classified about what she was asking. "Well, we really do not want to discuss those options right now. But you did ask. There is a relatively safe invasive…intervention rather …similar to the old and now illegal frontal lobotomy."
"You said 'invasive intervention.' Isn't that just medical mumbo jumbo for a surgical operation?"
Troi offered an unauthentic smile. It seemed she was always being tolerant of non-medical people asking questions. "You understand repairing unruly engines with bad parts, Lieutenant. Think of it that way. Paris often becomes violent due to his frustration. So a partial personality separation procedure would make him more docile and open his mind to being a bit more…receptive…to treatment. If that doesn't work then he would have to be…umm…sent to Talus IX colony. But we are confident that those actions will not be required."
"I see. In other words, you are going to mess with his brain. If that doesn't work he will be institutionalized away from family and friends." This was appalling but beyond her control. "Any news about my husband?"
Janeway nonchalantly flipped through her PADD. "Nothing. But we do know that the Equinox went into the Delta Quadrant for an undisclosed mission. Given the evasive reaction of Vice Admiral Quizzlink in Starfleet operations when we inquired, a black operation is the most likely scenario. That also explains why there is no contact with the Equinox. Captain Chakotay, my husband I mean, has contacts within that community so he is checking on it, as much as he can. You will be the first to know if we discover anything. Any other questions?"
Torres shook her head. "No. Not at this point, Commander. Maybe once I go over everything regarding Tommy. And I really would like to see Miral as soon as possible. How can I notify the Orion that I'm okay?"
Janeway suddenly frowned a bit, cogitating what she had just heard. She called him Tommy! Well, Owen Paris used that term for him so it probably just stuck in there. And she is very exhausted. Then she smiled. "Already taken care of. They were informed through normal channels. Your Captain sends his regards and said your duties have been covered by Lieutenant Carey." After pressing a button a Starfleet lieutenant commander walked in, wearing the red uniform of an operations officer.
"This is Lieutenant Commander Harry Kim, B'Elanna. He works as a graduate teaching assistant for Captain Chakotay at the Academy. Harry knows Tom Paris pretty well and can answer most questions of a personal nature regarding him. In the meantime, he will show you to your quarters across the quadrangle. Your bags are already there. Get cleaned up, take a nap, and we will talk some more at dinner this evening."
Harry shook B'Elanna's hand, as she stood up to leave. "Thanks, everyone. Haven't eaten anything in a while either so maybe Commander Kim and I can grab some lunch. I'll take care of Paris, no problem, Ma'am. I want to get back to my life once more. I guess I already miss the comforting smell of plasma residue mixed with poopy diapers." She saluted and left with Kim.
The group offered stares. Most then shook their head as the door closed behind Torres. But it was Troi who broke out laughing first. Plasma and diapers, indeed.