"Tom Paris. . .Kathryn Janeway"
Author: Susan Maddy
Series: None
Rating: PG
Codes: None. My version of Tom Paris' backstory.
Summary: Chronicles Tom Paris' activities from just after the crash at
Caldik
Prime to meeting Captain Janeway in prison.
Disclaimer: I'd like to thank all those creative people at Paramount for
letting me
use their wonderful characters from Star Trek: Voyager. The only profit
I get out
of it is the intense enjoyment I get from entwining my life with theirs.
The
characters and universe fully belong to Paramount. The story is mine.
Warning: Parts of this story are emotionally dark. It's not a child's story.
Thanks: To Jan Monroe for archiving my stories.
"Tom Paris. . .Kathryn Janeway"
The doctor walked in looking very somber. "Admiral and Mrs. Paris,
please
come with me and I'll explain your son's condition. He's one lucky pilot."
The
doctor led them to a small meeting room down the hall from their son's
room.
"Your son is suffering from multiple broken bones," the doctor started,
"and
severe trauma to the head and spinal cord. In addition, he was exposed to
the
vacuum of space as he was thrown clear of the shuttle when it exploded.
His
lungs are severely damaged." The doctor paused for a moment, then went
on.
"He has already passed an important mile stone. He made it through the
initial
treatment. Your son is tough, but his condition is very critical." The
sounds of
the hospital intruded as the doctor paused to allow the information to
penetrate.
"Is he going to live?" asked his mother.
The doctor looked over at Mrs. Paris and noted the deep fear in her eyes.
He
reached out to her, "Mrs. Paris, I can't say now. Tom is critically ill. For
now be
thankful he is alive. He'll recover at his own pace, we can't rush it."
"I know but. . ." her voice cracked and she stopped.
The doctor continued, "We hope sometime tonight his vital signs will
stabilize
enough to allow us to mend his broken bones and continue the therapy on
his
spinal column. The sooner this happens, the better his chances of
survival."
"I'm staying with him." Mrs. Paris looked challengingly at her husband.
Admiral Paris started to take a breath, but the doctor spoke first. "That is
a good
idea. Many times comatose patients are reassured by the presence of
loved ones.
It can help them to heal faster. Feel free to talk to him, Mrs. Paris, but
don't talk
about the accident or about the people who died. People experiencing
trauma as
serious as Tom's often suppress the memory of the cause of the trauma
until they
are strong enough to deal with it. It's even possible your son will never
remember
the accident. That is common especially when brain trauma is involved.
It is best
for him to remember without outside prompting."
"Can we see him now, doctor?" Mrs. Paris asked.
"Yes, let's go." The doctor led the Admiral and Mrs. Paris back to their
son's
room. His mother moved eagerly almost ahead of the doctor, Admiral
Paris
moved slower, hanging back. On arriving at the room, the doctor greeted
the
nurse and asked how the patient was doing. She said that he was
continuing to
improve and that the next phase of treatment could go forward soon if his
progress continued. Mrs. Paris smiled hopefully and looked over to her
husband.
He had left the room and was in discussion with another officer in the
hall. As
the officer left Admiral Paris motioned to his wife to come into the hall.
"Tom must remember." The Admiral said emphatically. "We may never
know
what happened if he doesn't remember. The flight recorder has been
destroyed
and the sweep was able to pick up only a few pieces large enough to
analyze. All
we know is that there was a major explosion in the engines. Tom was
thrown
clear somehow or he would have been killed like the other three people.
If that
freighter hadn't been so close to Tom and to medical help, Tom would be
dead
now." Admiral Paris paused and thought for a moment. "They may not
even be
able to figure out how he got out."
"Admiral, Mrs. Paris," the doctor called them from the doorway to Tom's
room.
"I've got good news, Tom has stabilized enough to continue treatment."
****************
Admiral Paris walked deep in thought toward the Clinic to visit. I'm not
going to
be able to stay here much longer. Only so much business can be
accomplished by
COM link. My aides are calling more and more frequently. I suppose
Maryann
will insist upon staying. I hate it when she isn't home. I can't really blame
her
though. I need to get to the bottom of this accident. Too many things
don't add
up. I must talk to Tom about it. The Admiral stopped at the nurse's
station to
inquire about his son's condition before going into his room. "How's Tom
today?
Yesterday, I think he might have recognized me."
"The doctors' finished the treatments repairing the structure of his brain
and
spinal cord today. He could begin regaining consciousness at any time.
This is a
very delicate time. Remember don't push him to recall the accident. The
brain
has a wisdom of it's own. Tom will know when he can handle the stress
of
recollection." The nurse felt very protective of Tom and sensed that his
father's
motives might not be good.
Medical people! Think they can tell anyone what to do thought Admiral
Paris, if
you're Star Fleet, you're tough. It seemed to Admiral Paris that Tom was
much
closer to consciousness today. More like a deep sleep than a coma.
Evidence of
his mother having been there showed by the flowers and the neat
arrangement of
the bedside table. Admiral Paris went directly to his bedside and started
talking.
"Hello son, I see you already had company today." At the sound
of his
father's voice, Tom's eyes fluttered. Encouraged by this Admiral Paris
continued
to talk and soon his eyes fluttered open and he gave a small moan.
"Da. . ."
"Yes, Tom, it's me."
"Wha. . .what. . .happened?" He was confused and not able to
focus
clearly. He tried to make sence of the situation.
"There was an accident. Do you remember it?"
"Accident,. . . accident."
"Yes, that's right we think there was a mechanical problem with
the
shuttle."
"Mechanical. . ."
"Yes, mechanical, "the Admiral was becoming more forceful, "Do
you
remember. Tom, try to remember. We don't know much. We are
counting on
you."
"Admiral!" The floor nurse exclaimed after having heard Admiral
Paris
questioning his son on the room monitor. "I have tried to stress to you
how
important it is to allow your son to regain his memory without pressure."
He
paused debating what to do. "Perhaps it would be better if you let him
sleep for
now and returned tomorrow."
"Very well," he said officiously. He turned to Tom and taking his
hand
said, "I'll be back, you sleep well." To himself he thought next time I
come back, I'll disconnect the monitor. I must talk to Tom!
The nurse watched the Admiral walk out of the room and shook
his head
thinking how some people just can't separate the job from family. As he
checked
the various monitors and gages, he noted with satisfaction that all of
Tom's vital
signs were stronger. Tom was looking at him when he began checking
him over.
"Well, hello Tom. It's good to see you awake. I'm your charge
nurse. My
name's Ben." Tom nodded. "Don't talk unless you want to. You've been
through
a lot!" Ben closely watched Tom's face as he spoke. "You're in pain?
Your
doctor has written for that, I'll give you something now." Ben left and
soon Tom
relaxed as the pain inhibitor took effect. By the time Ben returned his
head had
cleared and he was actively looking around.
"So. Much better, huh." Ben said upon returning.
"Yea, hey, could you tell me where I am?ö
"Sure," Ben said coming over to the side of his bed. "You're in the
hospital in Caldik Prime."
"The hospital. . .What happened?"
"You've been in an accident, a serious one."
"An accident, I don't remem. . .Oh, sleepy. Why, I haven't done
anyth. . ."
"You'll sleep a lot for awhile. It's just what you need. Someone
will be
here if you need anything." Ben smiled with satisfaction as he left the
room.
This was one critical patient he wasn't going to loose.
**************************
Several days passed. True to his intent, the Admiral visited often
and
turned off the monitor so the nurses wouldn't hear what he was saying to
Tom.
Usually the Admiral went over what he thought happened in the accident
and
tried to get Tom to confirm it. After several of the Admiral's visits it
seemed to
Tom that was what happened. Otherwise, Tom woke briefly if someone
else
visited him, or if he had a treatment and slept peacefully the rest of the
time.
Then one night was not peaceful. Ben noticed during his rounds during
the day
that his heart rate was raised and he was moving fitfully, as if he were
dreaming.
Ben had seen this before in trauma patients. It was time to talk.
Tomorrow the
Counselor would visit Tom.
The Counselor decided to show up during Tom's breakfast when
he was struggling to get food into his mouth instead of down his front.
"Hello, Lieutenant, I'm Shirley, the counselor they told you to
expect."
"Well, you picked a great time to show up. Just in time for 'The
watch
Tom Paris wear his food show'. I'm about as coordinated as two left feet,
but the
Docs say that if I cooperate and do what they say, I'll be pretty much back
to
normal in a month or so. I'm all for that. Like my color scheme?" he said
indicating the napkin tucked into his gown.
"I'm glad to see you in such good humor. Do you mind if we talk
for a
while."
"Not if you don't mind watching me drop food all over the place."
Shirley
talked about inconsequentials until Tom had finished breakfast then
helped him
clean up.
"So, Tom, your docs tell me you're starting to have some trouble
sleeping."
"Boy, they don't miss a trick, do they. It felt like I woke up 50
times last
night," Tom said soberly. "I always woke up scared, scared out of my
mind. I
can't remember what I was afraid of."
"Why don't you tell me what you do remember?" Shirley asked
settling
into a chair.
"Not much," Tom started, "Just fear. Fear and darkness."
"That's a start, Tom. Any idea where the fear could come from?"
Shirley
asked.
"Well, that doesn't take a rocket scientist, I'm probably starting to
remember the accident."
Shirley came to a decision, "Tom, I want you to do an exercise
with me.
Hopefully, it will help that process."
****************
As the night nurse came in she saw the note that the counselor
wanted to
be notified at once if Tom Paris seemed agitated or unusually troubled
tonight.
The nurse adjusted the computer monitor to its highest sensitivity and
went to
check on him first. All was quiet.
About 1:00am he started to move restlessly. The nurse called
Shirley 15
minutes later. Shirley arrived at the nurses station quickly.
"What's happening?" Shirley asked out of breath from her rush to
the
hospital.
"Come on, I think he should be awakened, I've had to place a
restraining
field on him. I wanted you to be here before we woke him. This is by far
the
worst I've seen him," the nurse said, "The doctor wrote a sedative if you
want it.
He authorized you to administer it."
"Good. Will you ease the restraining field off as he awakens."
"OK."
The nurse and Shirley went directly to either side of the bed. "I'm
going to
wake him. Tom. . .Tom wake up. It's Shirley. I want to talk to you,
Tom!" She
took him by the shoulders and shook him. Then with a shout Tom sat up
in bed
and looked around, his eyes wide.
"Computer, lower the lights to 30%," Shirley ordered. "Tom, look
at me,
tell me what is troubling you."
"Shirley,. . ." he began. "No." He grabbed her arm with fierce
intensity.
"I didn't. It's not true." With every utterance his voice became rougher
and
louder, more out of control. "Tell me it's not true! TELL ME IT'S NOT
TRUE!"
"TOM! Calm down! Take slow deep breaths. You're
hyper-ventilating."
Instead of calming down, he continued yelling and began to shake
the
counselor with a strength that belied his being in bed for a month.
"Tom, TOM. Look at me. If you don't control yourself, I'm going
to have
to sedate you. Nurse! Give me the hypospray."
"No, no, don't sedate me, please," Tom said leaning away from the
nurse
and obviously trying hard to master his emotions. He looked at Shirley
and
realized he had a death grip on her arm. "Sorry, I hope I didn't hurt you."
"No, Tom, I'm fine. Lay back and take some deep breaths, relax."
He did
as he was told.
"Oh, Shirley," when Tom finally spoke again his voice was full of
anguish.
"Shirley," he stopped again.
"Yes, Tom," Shirley prompted.
A long time passed. Shirley and the nurse waited patiently until he
was
ready to go on. He settled back in the bed, looked intensely at Shirley and
said, "I
need to know. . .Was anyone killed in the crash?"
"Tom," Shirley said softly, "You need to tell me what you
remember."
Tom leaned his head back against the pillow, closed his eyes and
began
slowly, "I remember yelling, a loud noise, confusion and darkness. I was
the
pilot?" He asked more a statement than a question. She nodded. "How
many
people were in it?"
"Four."
A long pause. Finally Tom looked over at Shirley and asked,
"How many
survived?"
"Just one, Tom," Shirley reached over and covered his hand with
hers.
". . .No. . ." He turned away and brought his hands to his face.
"Their
names, what were their names?"
"Tom. . ."
"Just tell me. Tell me!" The last was almost a growl, through
clenched
teeth. His hands were now intertwined in his hair.
"Alright, Lieutenant Commander William Johnson, Lieutenant
Jennifer
Broadbeck, and Lieutenant Linda Rosen.
At Linda's name, Tom took a sharp breath and stiffened. "No, not
Linda."
He said almost too softly to be heard.
"Who was Linda, Tom?"
He dropped his head into his hands and he covertly wiped his eyes.
Turning to
Shirley he vainly tried to pull himself together as he said, "Linda. . .was a
girl I
was dating." He looked over at Shirley and she gathered him into an
embrace and
overwhelmed by the revelations of the night, he cried as if to wash the
memories
away.
************************
Shirley was able to leave Tom a couple hours later. She left orders that he
was to be allowed to awaken naturally. Shirley and Tom had reviewed
again and again
what he had remembered. When Shirley considered Tom's memories they
seemed odd to her because the memory of the deaths was full of emotion
for Tom
but, the other story was very clinical and noticeably free of emotional
overtones.
Tom was downcast and exhausted when Shirley had finally talked him
into taking
something to help him sleep. The next morning his mother found him
picking at
his breakfast and quite subdued.
"Tom, the hospital wouldn't let me come until now." His mother
said as
she hurried in the door. "It's so good to see you awake. I've been so
worried!"
She stopped at the foot of the bed. "They said you had a really rough
night, but
they wouldn't tell me what happened. All of her words came in a rush."
"Mom, come here," Tom reached out to hug his mother. He could
always
count on his mother's love and acceptance. His mother appreciated him
for who
he was. If he slipped from the standard of perfection, he was human after
all. It
was a different story with his father. With him it was perfection or
nothing. Too
often Tom came up on the side of nothing.
As his mother pulled away from the embrace she quickly wiped
her eyes
and somewhat self-consciously said, "I'm glad your father isn't here, I'd
never hear
the end of it." She turned back to her son with a warm smile. "So you
decided to
rejoin the living! Got bored laying there doing nothing."
"Yea, Mom," he smiled in spite of last night, happy to see his mother's
smile. "I
guess I've been out a long time. I heard the nurse say I wasn't expected to
live,
but now they think I'll be fine." He paused and took a bite of food. He
continued
thoughtfully. "I wish I could more sure of my memories. What did the
flight
recorder reveal?"
"The flight recorder was completely destroyed," Tom's mother said
soberly,
walking over to the window and looking out. "Your father is nearly
beside
himself. There just aren't any clues. They haven't even come up with any
plausible theories." Several moments past and she realized Tom hadn't
said
anything. She turned and looked at him. He was staring at the opposite
wall, a
mixed look of horror and disbelief frozen on his face.
"Tom," his mother said as she went to his side.
He shook himself and looked at her. His face still haunted. "Mom,
people died.
They died on the shuttle I was piloting. That makes it my fault."
"Tom, you know that's not true. No pilot is blamed for a
malfunction."
"Yea, I seem to remember something about a problem with the
propulsion system, but it's vague. Most accidents are due to pilot error.
That's the first thing
the inspector looks for."
"Tom, why don't you wait to cross that bridge until you come to
it."
He closed his eyes and nodded. "Mom, a girl I was dating was on
the
shuttle. She was a great girl." Tears squeezed out from under his closed
eyes. "If
she hadn't come, she'd still be alive."
"I didn't realize this was complicated by a personal angle. The
papers
haven't picked up on that yet. Your father won't like this much." This
mention of
Tom's father caused discomfort in both Tom and his mother.
After several moments of uncomfortable silence, Tom said, "Mom, I'm
really
getting tired."
"I'll go." She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.
"Remember
things always look darkest before the dawn. If you want company, I'm
just a call
away. I love you." She picked up his tray and took it with her when she
left.
"Love you, Mom," Tom said and closed his eyes.
He waited until he was sure his mother was gone, opened his eyes,
shook
his head and sighed.
***************************
Tom's remaining days in the hospital drug by. Everything was
tainted by
the knowledge the shuttle he had piloted had exploded and killed three
officers.
Shirley came daily to work with Tom. No one but Shirley and his mother
knew
how he really felt. Shirley had been there when he had been unable to
hide
behind his usual cock sure mask. He found it impossible to dissemble in
front of
her. Tom was often exhausted by the work they did as well as incredibly
frustrated that he couldn't remember any more details about the accident.
They
tried all the usual methods for retrieving memories. All without success.
The day came when the inspectors from Starfleet questioned him. He told
them
all he knew, but somehow, Tom felt that they did not believe him. After
the
inspector's initial questions, the purpose of the questions seemed to be to
trip him
up, to confuse him. The partial memory he had about the propulsion
malfunction
was of particular interest to them. Unknown to Tom, or the inspectors,
Ben was
monitoring the interview and he intervened when it appeared Tom was
becoming
exhausted and loosing control. After they had gone Tom wondered idly if
the
inspectors would have ever left voluntarily. He was told to expect to be
questioned further.
In the clinic, Tom was sheltered from the controversy outside the clinic
walls.
Lieutenant Rosen's parents were shocked and stunned by the sudden death
of their
only child. In their hurt they looked for someone to blame. When the
investigation failed to turn up anything conclusive, they shouted cover up.
Eventually, the news leaked out that the pilot's memories were
inconsistent and
incomplete. The controversy was fueled by rumor, innuendo and by the
irresponsible actions of the press. For many years there had been a
running battle
between the editor of the Prime Centennial, Caldik Prime's newspaper and
the
Commander of the Starfleet presence on the planet. The Editor made sure
that
any news story about Starfleet was slanted toward the negative. The
Editor was a
subtle man and the wording was rarely overtly negative, but over the years
the
impact was felt. He saw in the Caldik Prime shuttle incident, as he called
it, a
way to permanently damage the image of Starfleet forever. For the first
time on
Caldik Prime people demonstrated in front of Starfleet's Headquarters in
the main
city, Caldik. Starfleet began to react to the pressure. An Inquiry was
called.
The day came for Tom's discharge.
"Hi, Tom."
"Shirley, you just caught me. They are finally springing me from
this
trap." Tom looked up from his preparations to leave.
"I know," Shirley said, "I was the last person to sign your release
papers.
Have the nurses given you instructions for returning for further therapy?"
"Oh, they said something about you not being able to get along
without
me," Tom joked, "but I didn't take it too seriously." He met her eyes and
answered her seriously. "Yea, three times a week an hour of nerve
pathway
stimulation, an hour of fine motor work, and then I find you. You know
Shirley,
I've never heard of anyone taking so such therapy. They want me to do
more
outside the hospital, too."
"Think you might have been slightly hurt?" Shirley gave a small
smile.
"Now that you're well on the mend, I'll tell you, I've never seen anyone as
seriously hurt come back as fast or as far as you have. The neurologist
says that
you will rate as a pilot again. He didn't even qualify the statement when I
asked
him."
"Shirley, when did he tell you that?" Tom demanded indignantly.
"He's
been more closed mouthed than an Aldebaran Shell Mouth with me."
Shirley abruptly changed the subject. "Tom, if you're done with
that I want to talk to you for a minute. There are some things you need to
know before
you leave the hospital."
"From the look on your face, I don't think I want to," Tom
observed.
"Don't think I haven't heard some things about what's going on. I know
you have
been trying to shelter me, haven't you." He walked over to the window.
"You needed to recover. Even your father cooperated, after
enough
persuasion." Shirley paused, gathering her thoughts. "The Rosen's are
understandably distraught at the death of their daughter. Unfortunately,
they have
turned their grief into a quest for vengeance of sorts. They have publicly
accused
Starfleet of a cover up. Somehow, they found out that you have an
uncertain
memory of what caused the explosion. This knowledge has spurred them
to
pursue their accusation more aggressively. Starfleet has ordered a formal
Inquiry."
Tom stood at the window listening impassively until the end and
then
visibly paled. "Well, I suppose they're looking for someone to take the
fall. I'm
not entirely sure what happened! What's the use if I get full use of my
body back?
I'll never sit in the pilot's seat again! I'll never. . ."
"Lieutenant!" The authority in Shirley's voice brought Tom
around
sharply. He met her eyes with a challenge for several long moments then
surrendered and moved to a chair to sit down.
"Shirley, will I ever remember?"
"We've been over and over this." Shirley started somewhat
impatiently.
Then relenting, "You did remembered that bit about the propulsion
system."
"Yes, I know, something bothers me about that memory though.
Somehow it's incomplete. It isn't right." Tom's voice was bleak. "When it
comes
right down to it, pilot error is still a possibility. Starfleet knows what I
know. I'm
sure they are thinking the same thing. I just wish I could remember." His
mother
walked in just as he finished.
"Hi Tom," she walked over to him and gave him a quick hug.
"Commander Walker, it's good to see you again. I understand you are
going to
continue working with Tom."
"Yes, with all of the controversy surrounding the investigation
Starfleet
wants to make sure every effort is made to help Tom remember the
accident.
That brings me to what I wanted to discuss with you. Between Lieutenant
Rosen's family and the inflammatory reporting in the paper, you need to
be ready
to encounter a lot of negative sentiment. There may be protests at the
hearing or. . . anything is possible. Keep a cool head."
Tom couldn't imagine that the shuttle accident could possibly be
that
important so mentally he dismissed it, but he said, "I'm sure I can handle
it." His
mother was more worried though she tried to hide it for his benefit.
Shirley picked up her things in preparation to leave. "Now Tom," she
said, "You
know how to find my office, don't you? No more house calls."
"Yes, ma'am," Tom replied snapping to attention with crisp military
precision.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Lieutenant," she executed a smart about
face and
left the room.
"Mom, I've got everything. Let's get out of here."
************************
During the crises with their son, the Admiral and his wife had been
given
the use of quarters for visiting dignitaries. This enabled the Admiral to
keep up
with most of his projects at Starfleet Headquarters on Earth. It was also
convenient since Tom needed to stay here for the rest of his therapy and
his
testimony in front of the Board of Inquiry. Tom was looking over his
room when
his mother came in.
"Not very fancy, is it."
"Well no, but it's better than that hospital room," Tom commented.
"I've
got to get outside! I think I saw a park as we were coming over here."
"Yes, you did. It's called James Kirk Park," his mother added.
"Let's see.
Directions. Go out the front door and go out to the walk. Turn right.
Then go to
the street with the "T" intersection. Cross the street and walk 'til you get
to the
park. Would you like some company? It is a beautiful day."
"Thanks for the offer, Mom, but I'd just like to go by myself. I'm
supposed
to walk an hour a day. I'm sure I'll want company for most of it."
Maryann smiled affectionately at her son. "OK, you have a good
walk,
remember, this is your first day out of the hospital. Don't overdo it and be
careful."
For the second time in as many hours, Tom snapped to attention
and said,
"Yes, ma'am."
"Tom, you're a nut," his mother said and left. Tom smiled after his
mother, finished putting his things away and hurried over to the Park.
The weather is perfect, he thought as he explored the parkland. I
didn't
realize how much I missed being outside. Walking in the fresh air and
sun
restored him as no therapy could. His cares just floated away as if on the
breeze.
He saw a lot of small wild life. The variety always amazed him. They
never
looked exactly like what their Earth bound counterpart would look like.
Presently, he began to feel odd, as if someone were watching him.
Glancing around the park he noticed that the sun was low in the sky and
he could
see very few people. Then he noticed with some alarm there were two
men
directly behind him. They were talking about him by name! Rudely. Not
allowing discretion to win out, he decided to confront them.
Turning, he said, "I couldn't help overhearing my name."
"Oh, is that so, punk." The larger of the two men threw back.
"You're
that Starfleet fly boy who murdered those three people."
"Look," Tom said in a conciliatory tone, "I don't know what you're
talking
about. I can't even fully remember the crash. I never murdered anyone."
"Oh, so that's the official line," the larger one continued, "I don't
buy it. I
think you need some encouragement to talk. What do you think, Ron."
At this
statement the two men split up and one circled behind Tom. Tom tried
vainly to
keep them both in sight, but failed and one grabbed hold of him with an
arm lock.
The first man moved up into Tom's face and continued, "Yea, this pretty
Starfleet
boy needs a lesson." He brought his fist back and hit him in the jaw.
Tom
slumped, out cold. "Hey, I didn't hit him that hard. I wanted to make him
tell me
his story."
"Hey, Bart, those people are looking kind of nosey. Let's put him
down
over there and get out of here.
*************************
The next thing Tom knew he was back in a hospital bed, his
mother on
one side, Shirley on the other. His head was pounding. He was in no
mood for a
joke.
"Well, Tom, if you had told me you wanted back in the hospital so
badly, I
would have made up some excuse." There was only a hint of merriment
in
Shirley's eyes. "Can't you keep out of trouble even one day on your
own?" When
Tom remained silent she went on more seriously. "Can you tell us what
happened?"
Tom nodded, "I was walking in James Kirk Park not far from the
pond. I
swear I didn't do anything, but I noticed someone was following me.
They said
my name. I turned around and confronted them. They were mad about
my
shuttle accident. They said I was covering things up. Oh, I can't
remember
exactly what I said. One circled behind me and grabbed me in an arm
lock. The
other said he was going to teach me a lesson. Then I woke up here. Oh,
one of
the men's name was Ron." He paused for a minute and continued. "This
bothers
me. I can't remember what happened in the accident and people have me
convicted and sentenced already."
"Tom," Shirley started slowly, "even you admitted that the few
facts we
know point toward pilot error."
"Oh, I get it now even you are going to line up against me," Tom
said with
some heat. "Where am I going to have to go to find friends, the Maquis?"
"Tom settle down and stop talking crazy," his mother started.
"So now I'm crazy," quite angry by this time. "When can I get out
of here?
I hate this place."
Shirley and Maryann exchanged a look over Tom and Shirley said,
"The
nurse needs to check you over one time while you are conscious, but after
that
you are free to go. Tom," she reached over and touched his hand to make
sure
she had his attention. "You are scheduled to testify at the Inquiry
tomorrow. If
you're not up to it. . ."
"No, I'll testify, I'm not an invalid. You don't have to protect me."
"Alright Tom, we have an appointment at 2:00 tomorrow. I'll see
you
then. I'll tell the nurse you're ready to go home."
Still angry, Tom barely nodded his acknowledgement.
****************
The next day Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris came to the Inquiry
resplendent not only in his Starfleet uniform but with quite an attitude.
There
were several people standing outside the building the hearing was in with
signs
protesting against Starfleet's power. Some claimed there needed to be a
civilian
commission to regulate Starfleet's actions. Some accused Tom of being
part of a
cover up. He held his head high and marched into the building. He didn't
have
anything to hide!
Shirley didn't see Tom that day. He ended up testifying all day.
The
Advocate attacked the subject of the shuttle crash from every conceivable
angle.
He also went into the training Tom received and each type of ship he had
flown.
Near the end of the day Tom didn't have the energy to show any attitude.
He was
exhausted and his head throbbed so hard he was surprised the Advocate
couldn't
hear it. He was having increasing trouble holding on to his train of
thought.
"Lieutenant, did you hear my question?" The Advocate asked, studying
Tom
intently.
"Yes, sir, I did," his tone just barely civil. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm very
tired."
"Yes," the Advocate said sarcastically, "At least your alive to tell
about it."
Tom bristled visibly at the Advocate's works and tone. Before he
could
say anything the Referee said, "Belay that Commander. You know how
seriously
injured Lieutenant Paris was. Commander, it seems to me the subject has
been
covered. Do you have an original line of questioning to explore?"
The Advocate paused as if debating whether he could get away
with more
questions. "No ma'am. I would like to reserve the right to recall this
witness."
The Advocate was now all business and very proper.
"Very well." The Referee consulted her schedule. We will recess
until
9:00am tomorrow. Lieutenant, you are excused for the time being. You
are to
make yourself available to this Inquiry with twenty-four hours notice. Do
you
understand?"
"Yes ma'am, I do."
"This Inquiry is adjourned."
Tom wearily climbed out of the witness box. He checked the time
hoping
that there still might be time to see Shirley. He regretted the tone he had
taken
with her yesterday. As he left the hearing room, he heard shouting and
peered
down the hall in that direction. Boy, I don't need to get involved with
anything
like that, he thought. I wonder if there is a back door. He turned and
started
walking away from the noise. Just then two men broke through the guards
and
ran toward him. They were calling his name! Tom was frightened now
and he
vainly looked for a way to escape. He saw a door and tried the entrance
command. It was locked. He looked around again and was about to leave
when
the Referee opened the door and demanded, "What is going on here?"
"Ma'am. . ." Tom was nonplussed. "They're after me."
The Referee was a mature woman with an immovable air of
authority.
She ordered Tom into her office and confronted the two men as they ran
up.
When she reentered her office, she softened and put on her best
grandmotherly
charm. "Lieutenant, please sit down and be at ease. How does such a nice
young
man engender such hatred." She sat down on the chair beside Tom and
waited
for him to answer.
"I don't know ma'am. I am telling the truth as much as I know it."
"I believe you," the Referee said, "No one in your condition could
sustain
a lie over the intensive questioning that Advocate directed toward you. I
debated
for the last hour or so whether to cut it off. It was clear you had said what
you
were going to say and you looked ready to collapse. I let him continue
because of
all the controversy surrounding the accident. I'm sorry you had to go
through it."
"I don't think anyone wants to find out what happened more than I
do,"
Tom began. "I'm continuing to work with Commander Walker, but she
doesn't
know whether I'll ever regain any more of my memory than I already
have. She
says the more time that passes, the less chance I'll get it back."
Tom and the Referee chatted a few moments.
"Lieutenant, I want you to let me take you home. No, I won't take
"No"
for an answer," she said as Tom started to protest. "You can consider it an
order
if it makes you feel better. Now, I'll be ready to go as soon as I gather my
things."
****************
Tom had barely gotten home and into civvies before his mother
served
dinner. Being present during dinner was always a requirement in the Paris
family
and Tom knew the rule. Tom was so exhausted he fell asleep twice at his
seat
waiting for his father to come to the table.
Tom's head dipped once again as he continued to fight sleep.
"Son, show
some respect, your mother has worked hard to provide us with this good
dinner,"
the Admiral stated just as though Tom were eight years old and in need of
correction.
Slipping right into the role out of habit, Tom straightened and
apologized,
"IÆm sorry, sir, I'll do better." The rest of the dinner went no better;
however,
Tom could not concentrate on the conversation and only picked at his
food. The
Admiral seemed to criticize every movement he made and soon Tom's
temper
began to fray.
"Sir, I've had a long day," Tom said, trying but failing to keep the
edge out of his voice. "I'd like to go to my room."
"You've barely touched your food!"
"Dad, if I'm hungry I'll get something later." Tom said his voice
rising and
his fists clenched.
"Now look young. . ." the Admiral started with the same-hated
tone Tom
remembered from his boyhood.
"Owen!!!" Tom's mother jumped in. She rarely intervened
between the
children and her husband. Her actions now surprised Tom and warmed
his heart.
"Tom, you go on to your room and try to get some rest. You are
practically
asleep on your feet. Owen, I'll talk to you in the study!"
Not chancing a look at his father, Tom rose from the table and
went to his
room. He knew his parents would argue. His mother paid a high price
when she
defended her children. The Admiral was never physically violent, but his
talent
with words, the same talent that enabled him to rise through the ranks to
the
Admiralty, was devastatingly effective. Tom knew that from experience.
Bitter
experience. He also knew he couldn't cope with it now. He did nothing
more
than take off his shoes and lie down. He did not awaken until late the next
morning.
The next week or so was uneventful, even peaceful. It was to
prove the
last such week Tom would have for a long time. He and his mother took
daily
walks. His father returned to Starfleet Headquarters for a time much to
Tom's
relief not to mention his mother's. It had been many years since Tom had
been a
permanent resident in the Admiral's home. The years had not improved
their
relationship any. He had his therapy sessions and met with Shirley. Tom
was
beginning to hope his life was returning to normal.
The events of the day did nothing to foreshadow what would come
to pass
that night. Tom had had a particularly pleasant day. The weather was
great and
his exercise sessions had gone especially well. He hadn't even needed a
nap in
the afternoon. His mom had commented that he was starting to look like
the Tom
she knew and loved. He had seen Shirley and he had even received a
letter from
a friend. He went to sleep relaxed and with a clear head.
Tom jerked awake about 1:00 am, nightmare images of horror and
destruction clear in his mind. He thought back over the "dream" and
realized he
had never had a dream with such detailed images. As he pondered, more
and
more images came into his mind. He realized he was familiar with the
location.
It was a shuttle. Not a shuttle. His shuttle at Caldik Prime. As Tom sat,
deep in
thought, the silence and darkness of his room his only company, the
horrifying details of the accident returned, never to leave. He panicked,
thoughts half
formed and jumbled, tumbled through his mind. This isn't happening to
me. My
life is over. I won't believe it. It can't be true! No one can know! I've
got to get
away. He swiftly packed some clothing and toiletries and went silently
out of the
house. He didn't even leave a note. Then he ran until he couldn't run
anymore.
Even in the enlightened time of the 24th century, most cities have
areas
where the less savory side of humanity gather. This is where Tom
headed. He
wanted to hide, to loose himself, to disappear. He went into a cheap hotel
and
checked in, fending off the working women in the lobby to get to the
desk. Once
in his room he secured his door with the last shred of sense he had and
flopped
face down on the bed. He reached up and pulled out a pillow. Hugging it
tightly
to his chest and rocking slightly, he willed himself to sleep.
The morning saw Tom in deep despair. He awakened hours before
nature
forced him to get out of bed. Most of the day he spent walking ever so
slowly
from the bed to the window, looking out over the drab scene below and
walking
back. He had no interest in food. He could think only about the horrible
and
unbelievable revelation his mind had disclosed to him. Intense thoughts
of
self-loathing plagued him. At times he wanted to hurt himself. He went
over and
over and over it, hoping that somehow it might be different the next time
he
thought about it. It was always the same. It mocked him and made a
mockery of
his life. His father had been right about every rotten thing he'd ever said
about
Tom. He was worst than a failure. He was worst than the lowest scum on
earth.
He looked in the mirror and realized that if he grew a beard he would not
be
recognized as easily. At dusk he went out. Mostly he just walked, hoping
to tire
himself. He did finally get some food at the bar in the hotel he was
staying more
to quiet his conscience than because he was hungry. He knew his mother
would
want him to eat. His days followed a similar pattern until one night. . .
Tom had moved robotically though this day as he had the previous
days.
They were beginning run together. He truly would not have been able to
tell
anyone how long he had been there. He was nursing the last dregs of his
drink
when he was startled by a familiar voice.
"Hello, Tom."
"Shirley!" Tom looked quickly around the bar checking to see if
she was
alone.
"Don't worry, I'm by myself." Shirley gave a wan smile. "You
know Tom,
half the planet is looking for you. May I sit down."
Tom nodded and looked down at his hands, quite touched that
Shirley had gone to the trouble to find him. He looked up at her and saw
the compassion in
her face, this tipped his control and soon tears were streaming down his
face,
Tom helpless to stop them. Shirley just waited until Tom was ready to
talk. For
Tom eons passed, but eventually the storm of emotions let up. "Shirley,
I've
remembered." He met her eyes and saw more oceans of compassion
there. It
nearly started the tears again, but he looked away and said, "It is worse
than
anything I could have imagined."
"Tom, I'm sorry. Will you tell me about it?
"If you want a truthful answer, you won't like it. I just want to
bury my
head and never see daylight again." Tom looked back at Shirley. This
time his
cheeks were flaming deep red with shame. "I don't know how I can face
anyone
again."
"Tom, I have come to know you very well over the past weeks. I
think I
could be called your friend. A true friend who will tell you the truth when
you
need to hear it." She continued, "Now think back, haven't I told you the
way
things are?" Tom nodded. "You need to understand. Continuing to run
away
will only complicate your problems, no matter what horrible thing you
have done.
It will be worse if you run away from it."
Tom nodded. He took a deep breath then let it out. "Shirley, it
was my
fault."
Shirley hesitated before she began speaking. "Tom, we discussed
that,"
she said somewhat puzzled he was so distraught about an outcome they
had
considered as almost a given. "You thought it probably was pilot error."
"No, Shirley, you don't understand," Tom said shaking his head
over and
over. "I chose to perform the maneuver that caused the explosion. It was
an
unnecessary maneuver." Unable to stay in the bar, Tom stood abruptly
and left it,
running away as much from himself as from Shirley. He didn't go far. He
stopped just outside the bar and waited for Shirley. There wasn't long to
wait.
Seconds later, she ran out the door and past Tom not even seeing him.
She
looked up and down the street, stamped her foot and said, "How could I
have
missed him?" turned around and almost jumped out of her skin when she
saw
him.
"Tom! I was afraid you'd bolted again." Shirley said.
Tom shook his head. "No, I wouldn't want to put you to the trouble of
finding me
again. It might be better if I just fell off the world permanently though."
"Tom, we need to discuss some serious business." Shirley started
grimly, "You have complicated your life more than you can imagine by
running away. It
was as poor a choice as you could have made."
Tom looked at Shirley her words of reproach stung. He seemed to
cave
into himself further. "I have a room. We can talk there. Then under his
breath,
he said, "I'm not quite sure what talking to a loser like me will do."
The first thing Tom did was call his mother. Shirley told him how
she
was worrying. His mom had done nothing but help him. He also asked
her to
make sure he had a clean uniform. He would return early the next
morning and
change before he went to the hearing. With Shirley's help, Tom decided
what to
do. Shirley also pointed out that he had missed testifying and he was now
considered AWOL. Due to Tom's fragile emotional state, she did not
mention
that when he did show up, he was likely to be arrested and go to jail.
Shirley
hoped that since Tom came to the Inquiry of his own free will, the Referee
would
be lenient. They talked well into the early morning hours. Shirley did not
want
to leave Tom alone so she stayed with him in his room. She was quite
amused
when he insisted that she sleep on the bed even when their physical sizes
suggested she would fit better on the couch than he would. Over the past
weeks
she had come to deeply care about what might happen to this impulsive
young
officer. She was deeply worried about how the next few days would be
resolved.
Right now, it didn't look good.
The next morning they prepared for the day, checked out of the
hotel and
took the public transport to the Paris's home. They barely spoke both lost
in
thought until Shirley said," Tom, I want you to look at me." She searched
his face
and looked deeply into his eyes. "Tom, can you do this. Can you get
yourself to
the Inquiry."
"What, don't trust me now?" Tom said with a voice that dripped
sarcasm.
Shirley looked down, took a deep breath and said, very quietly,
"Do I have
a reason not to trust you?"
Now it was Tom's turn to look down his face flushing with
embarrassment. "No. I'll be there. Can you come?"
"I can be there for most of the morning. Here's your stop."
Tom nodded to Shirley and left the transport. The walk from the
transport
to the house took just a few minutes and Tom entered and called out to his
mother. She rushed to him and enveloped him in a fierce hug. "I'm so
glad you're
back. You're going to the hearing?"
"Yes, mom and I need to dress and leave right away."
Maryann nodded and pulled back. "Do you want me to go with you?"
Though Tom had not consciously thought about the consequences
of his
actions, he knew subconsciously that the Inquiry would be anything but
pleasant.
"No, Mom. I'm going to be fine." Tom went to his room and found his
uniform
neatly laid out. Just like his mother. He quickly dressed and inspected
himself
carefully in the mirror. Finding everything satisfactory, he took a deep
breath,
exited his room, and ran right into his father. "Sir!"
The two men looked at each other for long moments. Tom
blanching
before the obvious rage in his father's face. He began to tremble slightly
then
brought himself up sharply, cocked his head and flipped off, "I hear
there's going
to be quite a show at the Inquiry today. Why don't you come?!" and
walked off.
Admiral Paris had never come closer to striking his son than at that
minute. It was a full five minutes before he could trust his control enough
to go
into the kitchen where his wife was waiting breakfast.
****************
Lieutenant Paris found his way to the Inquiry without incident.
Shirley
was already in the hearing room to his great relief. "Thank you, I'm really
glad
you're here," he said emphatically. "My father was home. If you hadn't
been
here, I'm not sure I would have stayed." Then almost under his breath, "I
know I
have to do this. I could never live with myself if I didn't."
Shirley reached over and gripped Tom's hand, "You are a good
man. I
have come to appreciate Tom Paris. Let more people know him. You
might be
surprised how much they like him."
Tom looked over at her and furrowed his brow. Many years
would pass
before he would put that particular piece of advice into practice. "Do you
know
what is going to happen?"
"My guess is that someone will note that you are here," Shirley
began.
"Depending who it is you will be arrested, called into the Referee's
chambers, or
asked to testify."
"You mean I have to pick from those three choices? I think I'll go
back to
the hotel." His tone was cocky, but Tom was really frightened now. The
inner
strength he hid below all else was the only thing that kept him in the
hearing
room. He was in it for the long haul. The two sat in silence waiting for
whatever
would happen.
As luck would have it no one noticed Tom until after the hearing
was called to order and the Referee looked out over the audience. Her
eyes rested on
Lieutenant Paris and then really looked at him. She spoke briefly to her
clerk
who then went to him and informed him that the Referee wanted to see
him in her
chambers. Lieutenant Paris rose and complied.
"You are in a good deal of trouble, Lieutenant," the Referee began
sternly
without preamble. "Would you care to explain yourself?"
Tom cleared his throat, "Yes ma'am. Several days ago my
memory of the
accident returned. I couldn't accept it. I left. I wouldn't have had the guts
to
come back yet without Commander Walker's help."
The Referee looked at the young Lieutenant before her and her
heart went
out to him. All he needed was the right situation and he would flower.
She truly
regretted the actions she was almost sure she would have to take because
of her
office. "Lieutenant, please sit down. I want you to tell me what you have
remembered."
"Yes ma'am." Tom took a deep breath let most of it out and
began. "We
were on the regular shuttle route from the Lunar Convention Center to the
port on
Caldik Prime. I had been asked to pick up three officers from the
Convention
Center after the commercial shuttle had stopped running. I picked up my
passengers on time and the first part of the flight was uneventful and on
flight
plan as I remember. Lieutenant Rosen and I had been dating lately." He
stopped
and looked down. When he looked up he was blushing and did not meet
the
Referee's eyes. "I did a barrel roll. I had put the inertial dampers on high
and it
was so smooth the other two officers didn't even notice. Then I made my
big
mistake. I tried a high five and half way through the shuttle began to
shake
violently. I don't remember anything else until I woke up in the clinic.
The
shuttle shouldn't have blown up. What I did wasn't dangerous, not even in
a
shuttle. It was just stupid." Tom sat quietly, staring down at the floor.
"Lieutenant Paris," the Referee began expecting him to look up,
"Lieutenant. Look at me." He looked up regret painted on his face.
"Have you
considered what might happen to you because of this Inquiry?" Tom
shook his
head. "I believe you are telling me the truth. I do not think you
remembered
what you just told me until a few days ago. Part of the problem is that
you have
already told us a different story. How does that story figure in with the
one you
just told me?"
"I don't know ma'am," Tom said softly. "I've never really been
sure of
that story. It just seemed connected with the crash somehow.
"Lieutenant," the Referee said firmly, "Your credibility suffers
badly
because of that story. Running away hurt it even more. The tenor in the
press makes it impossible for me to exercise much leeway." The Referee
trailed off.
"I'm telling you this so you can prepare to hear it in the Inquiry. You will
be
forced to resign or face a general court-martial."
Tom sat stunned for a minute. He hadn't considered how he would
be
disciplined. His earliest memories included Starfleet. Life didn't exist
without
Starfleet. Then in front of the Referee's eyes he slowly wrapped on the
emotional
armor that protected his tender inner self from the hurts of the world. He
wouldn't let anyone know how much it hurt. He drew himself up as tall as
he
could in his chair and allowed his head to assume a jaunty angle. "As you
wish
ma'am."
The Referee looked at him narrowly for a moment not quite
understanding
the change she was seeing. She knew from long experience that she was a
good
judge of character. This boy was quality. Immature, in a tight place, and
needing
a good mentor, but he could do good things. "Lieutenant, you need an
Advocate.
Do you have a preference?"
"No, ma'am"
"Very well, go to see this man, Commander Long, directly after I
adjourn
the Inquiry today. I will contact him and discuss the situation. I am going
to
recess this Inquiry for one week." The Referee pinned Tom with a look
that
accepted no quarter. "I didn't ask you this before, but I am laying my
reputation
on the line for you. I want you to tell me. Is your story the truth as you
understand it now?"
Just a little of the mask fell off of Tom's face. He smiled a little
and said
with a touch of pride. "Yes, ma'am. It is."
The Referee smiled back at him satisfied. "You will tell
Commander
Long your story. Now, you go back into the hearing room. Wait for me.
I will be
in directly."
Tom obediently stood. This woman, like Shirley, disarmed him.
He
could not be disrespectful to her. He was relieved to see Shirley still
seated in the
audience. When Tom reentered the hearing room, the noise level
noticeably rose
and Tom noticed many of the assembled looking at him. He just kept his
head
high and rejoined Shirley. The Referee did what she said she would.
During her
instructions, the hearing room was buzzing like a hive of angry hornets
and she
had to ask for quiet twice. The second time she warned the crowd that she
would
clear the room if order was not maintained. Thus began Lieutenant Paris'
last
days in Starfleet.
Tom Paris lived in a fog until the day of the Inquiry.
Mechanically answering questions, eating or performing anything else he
was asked to do.
Nothing seemed to have any purpose. Everything was surrounded by the
gray
fuzziness of fog. He woke up the day he was to testify and though he was
grim,
he was alert and focused.
Lieutenant Paris's testimony was the last to be presented. The
Lieutenant
sat ramrod straight at attention and looked unseeing out to the hearing as
he
presented his testimony. The Referee noted that his testimony did not
vary in any
significant detail from what he had told her. This caused her no small bit
of
pride, her confidence in this young man was justified. She was also
deeply
saddened she could not do more to disentangle him from the trouble he
had
caused for himself. Hopefully, he would learn from this and he would
make
better choices. She gave him a chance to sooth his conscience a little.
Before
handing the sentence down, she would give him a chance to speak.
A brief recess had been called prior to the reading of the sentence.
Few
people left the room but the low buzz of conversation returned. When the
Referee returned a tomb like silence settled over the room. In this silence
the
Referee's voice seemed to boom over those assembled. "Lieutenant Paris,
I think
it is appropriate at this time to offer you a chance to make a statement
before the
verdict is read and discipline administered. The subject of this statement
may be
of your choosing. You also should know that this is voluntary on your
part." She
paused a moment to let him think. "Lieutenant, what would you like to
do?"
He stood and said, "Commander, I would like to make a statement.
I
would like to speak to the families and friends of the people who were
killed in
the shuttle accident especially Mr. And Mrs. Rosen who are seated in this
courtroom. I deeply regret my actions that caused the accident. The
knowledge I
did this will live in my heart for the rest of my life. I will never forget
them. I
would also like to apologize to my family especially my mother for letting
her
down. Lastly, I want to apologize for putting a black mark on the name of
Starfleet." He spoke firmly, but just barely loud enough to be heard.
When he
finished he looked at the Referee nodded curtly and sat down.
Lieutenant Paris stood to hear the sentence read and nearly passed
out
even though he knew what was coming. When he sat down, it was just a
matter
of time before he was just Tom Paris, a man forced to resign from
Starfleet,
worse than if he had never been in the fleet. In the past he had idly
wondered
what happened when a person left Starfleet this way. He was surprised by
the
simple, coldness of the procedure. He was officially removed from
Starfleet as of
1200 hours the next day and was to report to the security detail on Caldik
at that
time or before. He would return his uniforms and I.D. at that time.
"Lieutenant Paris reporting as ordered," Tom had decided to report
one
last time, in uniform.
The Commander looked up coldly, his eyes reflecting the scorn in his
heart.
"You may change clothes over there. Return here when you finish."
When Tom
returned the officer had a document ready for him to sign. "Read this if
you have
any questions ask them now." The document surprised him. In short, it
explained
to him that he was no longer in Starfleet, that he had been required to
resign and
that he could not claim any privileges from having been in Starfleet. Tom
hesitated before he was able to sign it.
Finally, Tom looked up at the Commander and asked jauntily, "Is there
anything
else?" The officer said, "No," and Tom turned and left. He walked head
held
high until he was sure he was out of sight of the Commander who had
discharged
him. He saw a park bench and sat down. He pondered his options. I do
know
some things I can't do. I'm done with my therapy. I can't stay on Caldik.
Shirley
did tell me to see her before I left. Amazing, something I want to do. My
parents
will be leaving to go back to Earth. I could never consider living in my
parent's
home on earth. Hmm. Maybe if I went to Caldik Port I could get work
with a
freighter line. At least it would get me away from here. Plus, room and
board are
part of the pay. There is one thing I can't avoid and that is returning to my
parent's house to get my clothes. I might as well get it over with. I want
to say
good bye to Mom, with any luck I will miss my father.
Luck was not on his side. His father was in the sitting room
reading when
Tom came in. Tom tried to be quiet and went to his room only to find his
mother
there packing for him. She was crying.
"Mom," Tom said and hugged her. Then he said, "Mom, I'm
sorry things
turned out like this. I love you."
"Tommy," she used his boyhood nickname, "You've never said. What are
you
going to do? Please write, I don't think I could stand not knowing where
you are.
I know you might not want to write to our home on Earth, but write to
your sister
Annie. She'll let me know, she understands about the Admiral and you."
"I will, Mom, I promise," he said, "I'll be honest, I don't know what I'm
going to
do. The first thing I'm going to try is to get on with a freighter company.
I don't
have any place to stay on Caldik. That's a roof over my head and, maybe,
they'll
let me train as a pilot." The last sentence was said sarcastically. "Mom,
I've got
to go. I'd rather avoid dad if I can. Good bye, I will write." He hugged
his
mother again and went out of the room carrying his suitcase.
"So, boy, you're leaving," the Admiral's voice dripped with more
scorn
and ridicule than Tom had ever heard before. The Admiral had been
coming up
the opposite way Tom turned. Tom hadn't even seen him. It brought him
up
short and caused him to cringe inwardly. Tom had managed to avoid his
father
the whole week before partly from good planning and partly because the
Admiral had been on Earth some of the time. "I wondered if you would
have enough guts
to face me. I see you were going to slink off like the dishonorable scum
you are."
Tom knew seeing his father would have been a loose/loose situation for
him. His
father would have twisted coming to see him into being something
negative if
that's what he had done. "You don't deserve to be a Paris. I wish I could
take the
name away from you. You have shamed me and our family. I hope you
never
grace my doorway again."
With the last sentence, something inside Tom snapped, he turned
to his
father and stepping close said, "Well, maybe you just don't have a son any
more. I
certainly don't want a father like you! Don't feel like you need to do me
any
favors. I'll be fine." Tom turned abruptly and strode out of the house
ignoring his
father's orders to stop.
Next, Tom went to visit Shirley. The visit was rather short but
Tom was
glad he had gone. She gave him her home address and number and told
him to
call her if he needed to talk. She told him that she knew he could do big
things
and contribute to the Federation if he decided to. She forced him to look
into her
eyes and told him that she knew it would be his choice when he decided to
do
that. They exchanged hugs and Tom as out the door. After he left Shirley
sat
down hard on her chair her face clouded with sadness and apprehension.
She
reached out to her intercom and asked her aid if she would call the
hospital and
tell them she would not be in this afternoon. She was too emotional to be
objective. She knew Tom Paris, probably too well. The way she had it
figured he
had about a 1 in 1000 chance of not getting in trouble again and soon. In
order to
succeed he needed benevolent structure and supervision. He also needed
responsibility and a strong sense of purpose and ownership. He needed to
shine,
to be good at what he was doing. A solid group of friends would help,
too.
Shirley did not see him going into that type of situation. If anything, he
would be
going into the opposite of what he needed. She had let him into her heart
something a professional is not supposed to do. Her heart was breaking
and she
shed tears for Tom's pain.
Tom left Shirley feeling oddly free. He realized he had no obligations,
no
responsibilities, no one expected anything out of him. It felt good in a
cock-eyed
sort of way. He decided he'd go to the Port Caldik to find out if he could
get
work. For a long time he wandered aimlessly through the massive port.
Caldik
Prime was not a large or important place, but it had the distinction of
being
located in the perfect place to be a major crossroads port. It seemed to
Tom that
it was possible to link to every major planet in the Federation by coming
to
Caldik Prime. Eventually, he did find himself in the shipping area and
began to
nose around for a job. He noticed a middle aged man who seemed to be
directing
a group of others. He walked up to him and said, "Excuse me. Do you
know
where I might ask about work?"
The foreman looked him up and down his gaze resting
momentarily on his
hands. "Ever done any physical work?"
"No, but I'm strong," Tom threw back meeting the man's eyes
defiantly.
"My crew travels with the freighter. We won't get back here any
time
soon. Maybe never." The foreman went on checking things off the list on
his
clipboard.
"Suits me fine."
"Wages are 15 credits a week and room and board on the freighter.
It's not
fancy, but only four men to a room. We won't wait for you if you miss
lift off and
we won't come back, neither. I won't allow fights. You get put off at the
next
landing." He looked intensely at Tom. "There's no forced pairings, if you
catch
my drift. No girls on the ship. You do good and there are bonuses.
Slack, and I
tell the men to take care of you."
"Sounds fine to me," Tom said, wondering if his luck might be a
little too
good.
"Now, you tell me why someone like you wants to sign on with a
freighter," the foreman continued to assess Tom.
Tom debated a moment whether to tell the man the truth. Then he
shrugged and said, "I've just resigned from Starfleet. I need a job."
"Now, why would someone resign from Starfleet?" He nailed
Tom with
an appraising look which he met for a moment then looked away. Paris
couldn't
quite admit it to himself but that hurt. His face hardened with another
layer of
armor and steeling himself he said, "Let's just say someone asked me to
resign."
"You're that shuttle pilot," the man stated flatly. "Let me tell you
right
now, if you'd 'av lied to me you wouldn't a had a job. I'll give ya a try. If
you're
trouble you won't last long anyway. Bill," he called to one of the men
loading,
"Come here would ya." Then to Tom, "My name's Richard Forrest. Call
me Ric.
I'm the foreman. Ya come to me with any beefs, but don't do it often.
This is Bill
Webber he's my assistant. Bill this here is. . ."
"Tom, Tom Paris."
"He's going to be joining us. Give him the contract and show him
where
to berth. Then put him to work."
For most of a year Tom got along. The work wasn't too strenuous
and if the truth be told a doctor couldn't have prescribed better therapy to
solidify
healing his body from the crash. The work kept him busy enough that he
didn't
have to think about anything he didn't want to. He kept to himself,
worked hard
and was good for an occasional laugh. Sometimes he would fill in for
someone
who had been injured or was ill, just to be busy.
Once he even filled in for the pilot. The pilot was up in years and had a
heart
attack. Ric remembered Tom's history and ask him to help out. At the
hospital
they said the pilot would have died if the freighter had had to come in on
auto
pilot. Tom was a hero for a while. Strangely, there was a downside to
this
incident. It started him thinking and remembering how much he really
loved to
fly. He became more and more discontented until one day at a likely
looking
port, he asked to settle up on his contract and he left the freighter.
He drifted around aimlessly, sometimes working for passage somewhere;
occasionally paying his way. He found himself on the fringes of
Federation
space. Here the rules were loose and he found it easy to fit in. He spent a
lot of
time in bars. Tom was the life of the party in a crowd. Alone, it was hard
to
recognize him as the same man; his face, dark and brooding his eyes
unfocused
and vacant. He had never been a drinker but as time went by he drank
more and
more. He was quite popular with the women and often found this a
convenient
way to save on lodging expenses. It surprised him how often he had a
roof over
his head. He rarely asked for the company.
A group of men came into the bar Tom was frequenting one night.
He
noticed them at once because they had the look of men who knew each
other
well. They looked like a group of Starfleet crewmen. Tom covertly
watched
them all night and as the hour grew late the men began telling stories of
battles
they had been in. This drew Tom's attention more and peaked his interest.
He
determined to follow them when they left, but his attention was absorbed
elsewhere with 'lodging issues' and he missed them.
The next evening the same group came in and Tom decided to
leave
nothing to chance. They were seated at the bar. When he went up to get
a refill
on his drink, he started up a conversation with one of them. By the end of
the
evening Tom had met their Captain, a Native American named Chakotay.
Over the months since the Inquiry, Tom developed an off hand,
devil may
care persona which effectively kept people at a distance while seeming to
be
friendly and open. Chakotay, a very good judge of character, was put off
by the
act and suspicious of Tom. He questioned Tom for quite a while before
making
his decision.
Chakotay sat back in his chair and studied the young man in front
of him.
He still wasn't completely convinced, but. . ."OK, I'll take a chance on
you." We always need pilots.
The young man smacked the table and said, "Alright!"
"Providing you really can fly. Be here tomorrow night ready to leave and
my
crew will take you to where we're staying. I'll check you out myself early
the next
morning, so lay off the drink."
When Chakotay rose to leave so did Tom and he reached out and grabbed
Chakotay's hand and pumped it several times. "You won't be sorry. I'm a
good
pilot."
The next day Tom got to the bar before it opened he was so
anxious to fly
again. Of course Tom checked out fine as a pilot and Chakotay let him
get to
know the people he was working with and train with the flight of fighters
he
would go into battle with for about a month. For Tom's first mission
Chakotay
chose a straightforward attack on an ammunitions dump. Unbeknownst to
the
Maquis their plan had been revealed to Starfleet. Two starships and a
squadron
of fighters were waiting for the Maquis. One of the Maquis ships was
destroyed
and two of the pilots were captured. The pilots were unhurt and were
immediately thrown into the ship's brig.
Once in the brig they were subject to a litany familiar to all who
are
arrested and imprisoned. ". . .And if you are unable to secure your own
legal
counsel. Legal counsel will be provided for you. Do you have any
questions?"
The two Maquis prisoners just stared back at their jailers. "Very well,
names.
You first." Neither prisoner showed any sign of cooperating. "You know
very
well we can do an ID search on you without any trouble. We'll just call
you by
your name a little sooner." The guard shook his head. "Have it your
way." He
left briefly and when he returned. He was looking at a PADD. "Now
who do we
have here? An Admiral's son no less, Thomas Eugene Paris."
The other Maquis looked at Tom sharply wondering if that meant
Tom
would get special treatment. Tom just closed his eyes and felt his heart
tumble
right to his toes. Later when they were alone the Maquis, grilled Tom
about his
father. "So, are you going to get an easy ride out of here?"
"You don't know anything about it," Tom began somewhat angrily.
"Frankly, I'd get as far away from me as I could. I'm just bad luck. I
finally get to
fly again and I'm caught. On my first mission no less. If my dear Father
does
anything it will be to increase my sentence, not get me off." The Maquis
just
looked on silently as Tom began to pace the cell.
The trip to Earth was uneventful, Tom figured it was just more of
his
'good' luck they were sent to Earth. After all that's where Starfleet
Headquarters is and, of course, his father. Tom knew from growing up on
Earth that justice
was very quick. He was likely to be tried, sentenced, and in the
rehabilitation
center within one month. Six weeks on the outside. He knew he was
guilty and
he didn't care what happened to him. He and his Advocate had decided
not to
fight the charges. He didn't even want to go to the trial, but he'd conceded
to his
Advocate's wishes.
The day of the trial came and Tom came to the courtroom
abundantly
equipped with attitude. He sat beside his Advocate and loudly cracked
jokes
despite repeated warnings to calm down and be quiet. Tom stopped
abruptly
when the Judge entered the Courtroom. His Advocate asked him why.
Tom
looked at him and said, "This judge was kind to me at Caldik Prime. She
is one
of three people I wouldn't want to see me here. Too late now!"
The Advocate looked at Tom and shook his head. It was easy
enough to
see that Tom's attitude was a big act, "You know, Tom, you are still
young. You
don't have to waste your whole life. It just takes a decision."
"Oh, yea, I'm great at decisions. That's what got me into the
Maquis!"
The Judge chose that moment to call the room to order. Tom looked
down and
tried to hide behind his hands. The proceedings went swiftly since Tom
pled
guilty. The only unusual detail in the trial was that the Judge wanted Tom
to
corroborate the evidence presented. His Advocate said it was his choice.
Tom
shrugged and went to the stand. He tried to keep his head turned away,
but right
before he was excused the Judge asked him to look at her. He sighed and
complied. "Mr. Paris, I've met you before. Have I not?"
"He looked down and mumbled, "Yes."
"Speak up, Mr. Paris, "The Judge ordered. "And look at me."
"Yes, ma'am," he took a deep breath, "At Caldik Prime."
The Judge put up the privacy screen around her bench and talked
to Tom
at length. Tom sat looking down at his hands and nodding occasionally.
Just
before she turned the field off she reached over to Tom and gripped his
shoulder.
Tom looked up at her. She dismissed Tom from the witness box as she
turned the
field off. His Advocate asked him what she had said. Tom replied, still
blushing
profusely from the experience, "She really raked me over the coals for
messing up
again. If prison is as tough, I'll be surprised. She made me promise to
obey the
prison rules and cooperate."
Tom was sentenced to seven years at the Federation Penal
Settlement at
New Zealand. Being confined was hard to get used to at first, but the
rules were
simple and they occasionally found work for him to do that challenged his
mind instead of his body. He was surprised by a visitor several months
into his
sentence.
"Shirley!" Tom was so dumfounded all he could do was stare.
"Hello, Tom," then after a minute of looking at Tom staring at her,
she
said, "Why don't we sit down?" Tom followed her over to the chairs she
indicated. Since Tom wasn't doing any talking, she decided to take the
initiative.
"Physically, you look much better than you did the last time I saw you."
Tom nodded and finally spoke, "Shirley, I never did write you.
How did
you know I was here?"
"You remember the judge for your trial? She and I are
professional
friends and she remembered I had been sitting with you during the
Inquiry. I've
worked with several people she thinks are salvageable." She grinned at
the last
word. "I'll bet you were bloody by the time she finished with you."
"Memory of that tongue lashing has kept me out of trouble more
than
once," Tom recalled. "It has a way of coming to my memory just before
I do
something stupid. Hey, what are you doing on Earth?"
"Did you know I had been assigned to Caldik Prime just because
your case
was so challenging? I'm a specialist in the recovery of memory. I get
shipped
around as needed when a case like yours comes up. When I'm not
assigned to a
special case, I teach at the Academy and work with psychiatric patients as
a
consultant. To answer your question, I live on Earth."
"I don't think I knew anything about you," Tom started, "I was a
little self
absorbed just then." Tom trailed off. "I guess I'm out of practice talking.
I talk to
the other inmates but nothing like this. We mostly insult each other. It's a
fine
line sometimes avoiding a fight."
"The Superintendent says you have made a good adjustment, better
than
most do." Shirley informed Tom. "He thought you would be a trouble
maker
because of your attitude. Instead, you are beginning to win privileges."
Tom's face darkened and Shirley said, "What's wrong?"
Tom looked around, there were several other inmates in the room
with
their visitors, and said, "It's a nice day, lets go outside." He took Shirley
well into
the yard, away from the other inmates. "Shirley, I'm really trying to keep
my nose
clean, but these extra privileges are making it hard. I've only been here a
few months and already I have more privileges than most men in my
dorm. They
don't like that. I don't even take most of them. That doesn't matter.
Would you
ask the Super to take them away? It would make my life much easier."
"I'll see what I can do. That judge really got to you didn't she!"
"Maybe." Paris stopped and looked rueful. "You know Shirley,
you effect
me the same way. I don't act like this with anyone else. I'm a smart
mouth joker
who isn't serious about anything or anyone. I can hardly believe I'm
talking like
this even to you." Tom was breathless with the effort the self disclosure
took. "I
want to make a difference. The trouble is I have made so many major
mistakes; I
am afraid it's futile even to try."
"Don't ever say that again!" Shirley said with a fierceness that
brought
Tom up short. "The first time I saw you, you were in that hospital room,
eating
breakfast, half of it all over you, and cracking jokes like you didn't have a
care in
the world. I knew you had been so critically injured that just days earlier
the
doctors couldn't finish healing your body for fear a shock reaction would
kill you.
Tom, that's when I knew you had something to do that no one else could
do. Try
Tom, promise me you will try."
When Shirley finished talking she had come to within a foot of
Tom's face
and was looking directly into his eyes. The intensity was too much for
him and
he turned away. Shirley almost said something, but realized he just
needed space.
"Alright, I will, Shirley," Tom committed. "I will try."
The next several months passed quietly. The Superintendent
understood
Tom's problem and made an excuse to call him to his office and
'discipline' him
by removing his privileges. Tom went on being the hardened, cocky,
prisoner
that never seemed to push an issue far enough to get into trouble, but
made his
own life easier by appearing to be like the other inmates. Shirley
continued to
visit as her schedule allowed, causing Tom to unmask his true self and
plant the
first real seeds of confidence and self acceptance.
The day came when he had another important visitor. He was working at
one of
the monitoring stations when he heard an authoritative voice say, "Tom
Paris!
Kathryn Janeway. I served with your father. . ." and his life has never
been the
same.
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