If At First You Don't Succeed...
Part 2 of 4
Synopsis: While investigating a nebula, strange things begin to happen. Set pre-Scorpion.
If At First You Don't Succeed...
"There's no way to scan the nebula... but a shuttle could get in there. If shields were deactivated, it would be small enough to avoid getting tossed around if it hit any real turbulence."
"Tom?"
Paris nearly jumped. It had worked! He was on the verge of telling Captain Janeway to completely avoid the nebula when he realized that he had no idea how long it would take Voyager to go around. To make matters worse, he didn't even know the exact coordinates where Voyager was attacked.
"Tom?" Janeway asked again. He swiveled around in his chair, trying to grin.
"You want me take a shuttle in?"
"Yes, Mr. Paris. Make detailed scans as you go. I want a safe route for Voyager."
"Yes, ma'am!" he replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. He hopped out of his chair and headed for the turbolift before anyone could see his smile wasn't geniune.
As he entered the turbolift, he heard Chakotay say, "Looks like surf's up."
He barely kept from groaning. Was he going to have to listen to every bad joke? As the turbolift descended toward the shuttlebay, he recalled the... interesting experience he'd had going to Sickbay. Now that he'd shifted backward in time to before the incident on the bridge, could he still phase-out?
Experimentally, he focused on becoming insubstantial, but didn't have a fork or hypospray to practice with, and wasn't about ready to try to stick his hand through the turbolift wall. Instead, he concentrated on making a spark jump from his left hand to his right.
Zap!
Paris grinned, just as the turbolift slowed to a stop. I can control it, so I don't have to report to Sickbay a million times. That bit of news made the next several hours in the shuttlecraft worth repeating.
* * *
When he at last returned to Voyager, having found nothing different than what he'd discovered before, he gave the sensor data to Harry and B'Elanna, then returned to the Bridge. Tuvok glanced up at him as he entered, the night shift having just started.
"Mr. Paris, you do not have to remain here. I'm certain Mr. Baytart can handle the helm for now."
Paris scowled. "Mr. Baytart is doing a good job," he replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Sighing, he returned to his quarters and sat down to think. Suddenly, he remembered that Tuvok would call the senior officers to the Bridge when they were attacked.
To waste away the hours, he took a sonic shower, but changed into a clean uniform, then sat down to read a book. The day had been long, and he had just nodded off when the red-alert klaxon sounded.
"Senior officers to the bridge."
Finally! Stretching just a bit, he straightened his uniform and raced for the Bridge. He arrived before anyone else and slid into the helm just as Janeway, Kim, and Chakotay piled out of the turbolift.
"Twelve alien vessels have taken up position ahead of us," Tuvok reported.
"Hail them," Janeway ordered.
"They are not responding to hails," Tuvok said, right on cue.
No shoot, Sherlock, Paris thought, checking sensors for the safe pocket he'd detected before. As he did, he glanced at the coordinates and the chronometer, commiting them to memory in case he had to try this again. Better safe than sorry, he decided.
"They are powering weapons."
"Evasive manuevers, Mr. Paris."
He waited a second, then another, then fired Voyager's manuevering thrusters to slide the vessel sideways into the pocket.
Twenty-four bolts of the dangerous electrical charge shot through the area Voyager had just occupied. Paris breathed a sigh of relief.
"Good work, Mr. Paris. Mr. Tuvok, target their weapons arrays. I want them shut down."
"Captain," Kim interrupted. "I'm reading transport signatures all over the ship!"
"Intruder alert!" Janeway ordered. Paris turned in surprise, in time to see four aliens materialize on the Bridge. They looked like the genetical cross-breeding of the worst physical aspects of Nausicaans and Selay. And a little Cardassian thrown in for good measures, he frowned.
"No one goes for a weapon," the tallest of the ugly creatures ordered. "I am Sub-Commander Renkal. You are my prisoners."
Janeway held out her hand, signalling for no one to touch their phasers. "I'm certain we can come to some kind of agreement, Mr. Renkal–"
"No talking!" the sub-commander ordered.
"Renkal, Bartow. Some of the aliens are putting up a fight. Do we have reinforcements?"
"Negative, Bartow." He switched off his comm, then pointed his gun at Paris.
Oh, great.
Renkal was addressing Janeway. "You will order your forces to cease fire or I will kill this crewman. Understood?"
I hope I have control over this, Paris thought to himself. Then, slowly, he allowed a grin to spread across his face, then shook his head. Janeway's eyes grew sympathetic as she looked at him, obviously weighing her losses.
Tom closed his eyes and began to concentrate. He wanted to be intangible again. He wanted to be able to pass through solid objects.
"Don't do it, Captain," he said quietly, opening his eyes once he was confident he was insubstantial but opaque. Just like a hologram, he thought.
"Tom..." She sighed heavily, but seemed to realize that he had a trick up his sleeve. "I can't, Mr. Renkal."
"Then he will die," Renkal said, and turned back toward Paris. His finger tightened on the trigger of his weapon.
"No I won't," Paris said quietly.
The gun fired, and the ensuing projectile passed straight through the now-insubstantial pilot, slamming into the helm and making it spark fiercely. Without thinking, Paris caused the electricity to form on his fingertips, but instead of making it jump from fingertip to fingertip, he aimed it toward Renkal, willing the electricity to strike.
With a gasp of surprise, Renkal fell twitching to the floor. The rest of the Bridge seemed stunned by what had just happened, but Tuvok, quick as ever, grabbed his phaser and shot the other three aliens in rapid succession.
"Tom?" Janeway questioned, her surprise evident on her face.
Paris shrugged. "Just something I figured out how to do a couple of hours ago." It was easier than trying to explain the full details.
"How?"
"I just did."
Tuvok spoke up. "I have transporter locks on all intruders. I am transporting them to Cargo Bay 2, and removing their weapons in transit."
"Good work, Mr. Tuvok. Secure the cargo bay with a level nine forcefield after you transport everyone there. And take these, too." She gestured toward the four invaders that were unconscious on the floor.
"What of the alien vessels?" Chakotay asked.
"They have retreated," Tuvok announced.
Then the four aliens disappeared from the floor, taken by the transporter to the cargo bay. Janeway sighed with relief then turned back to Paris. "My ready room. Now."
* * *
Janeway stared across the desk at Paris, who was doing his best to look innocent. "Next time something strange like that happens, Mr. Paris, you will tell me. You say this first happened a couple of hours ago?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"And why didn't you tell me?"
Paris looked a little sheepish. "Because you sent me to Sickbay twice last time." He suddenly got a guilty look on his face.
Janeway arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'last time?'"
"Um... I jumped back in time a day and a half."
"'Jumped back in time?'"
The pilot sighed wearily. "We were attacked by this vessels yesterday, by my reference. They hit us with their weapons and we struck back immediately, damaging their weapons. Then they retreated, but we'd lost impulse engines and a couple of other systems. It was going to take us fifteen months to get through the nebula!"
"How did you come back in time, Tom?"
"When the alien weapons struck, they caused that electricity you saw to run all over the helm. It ran up my arms, and since then I've been able to do some pretty wierd stuff."
"Like letting a bullet pass through you without being harmed and making lightning shoot from your fingertips?"
Paris grinned. "Yeah. Like that."
The captain rubbed her temples, feeling the onset of a headache. "All right, Tom. My instincts tell me to send you to Sickbay..."
"But the Doctor can't even scan me."
"What?"
"Grab a tricorder and see for yourself. I don't exist, according to the tricorder."
She had no reason to doubt him, after what she'd seen. Janeway reached into her desk and pulled out her tricorder, flipped it open, and began to scan for life-signs. According to her tricorder, there was no one standing in front of her. "I don't understand..."
"Neither do I," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm here but I'm not, and I can't explain it any better than that."
"Tuvok to Janeway."
"Go ahead."
"The Doctor just made an entry into the medical log. Lieutenant Torres was killed in action."
Janeway saw Paris stiffen. "Thank you, Mr. Tuvok." B'Elanna is dead, she thought to herself, but just couldn't imagine not having the half-Klingon around any more. "Tom, will you go to Sickbay with me?"
"No," Paris answered, his voice angry. "I changed events before... I'll do it again."
And he disappeared.
* * *
"There's no way to scan the nebula... but a shuttle could get in there. If shields were deactivated, it would be small enough to avoid getting tossed around if it hit any real turbulence."
"Tom?"
Paris turned around in his seat, unconsciously clenching his fist before he realized what he was doing.
"Take a shuttle in and make detailed scans every inch of the way. Try to find a safe route for Voyager."
"Yes, Captain," he sighed, trying not to sound dejected.
"Looks like surf's up," Chakotay replied.
Paris groaned, trying not to slam his head against the side of the turbolift. The same bad joke, over and over again! I get a lucky break, but have to take the bad with the good.
* * *
Janeway looked up as her ready room door chimed. "Come in," she said automatically. Paris walked in, just as she'd expected. "Mr. Paris, we need to talk."
"I came to talk to you about...
She held up a hand to stop him. "You altered your sensor readings. Why?"
Paris looked stunned. "I don't know what you--"
"I think you do, Mr. Paris," she answered. "You altered the sensor records to exclude nebula sector J-14-25 from our trip. Why?" She opened the drawer in her desk and glanced downward, her eyes widening a little in surprise.
"That sector's unstable. We don't want to go through there..."
Janeway touched a button on her desk, calling security to her office. "Why don't we?"
"Because there are alien ships waiting for us! Twelve of them, with the ability to..."
The door slid open, and Tuvok and two security guards stepped in. Janeway removed the tricorder from her desk drawer, stepped around the desk in front of Paris, and held the object up. It was void of any reading. "I don't know who or what you are, but you are not Tom Paris. Take him to the brig."
Protesting, Paris–if that's who he really was–was dragged away.
Janeway sat down at her desk and rubbed her temples. Some how, some way, the real Paris had been replaced by this un-detectable copy. They had to get Paris back, and determine the mystery of sector J-14-25.
"Janeway to the Doctor. 'Mr. Paris' will be arriving at the Brig shortly. Please make a full biological scan and report your findings at the officer's meeting."
"I'll be there in a moment. Doctor out."
After poring over the scans of the nebula again, she tapped her commbadge. "Senior officers to the conference room," she ordered. Minus "Mr. Paris," of course. She picked up the tricorder and her padd with the altered information on it and entered the conference room to wait for the rest of the officers.
After they'd all taken their seats–with the obvious absence of the chief helmsman–Janeway rested her elbows on the table. "There is a mystery with sector J-14-25 of the nebula. The sensor data Tom brought back to us has been altered... by Lieutenant Paris."
Ensign Kim looked up, a surprised expression on his face. "Why would Tom do that?"
The Doctor, present due to his new mobile emitter, spoke up. "When Mr. Paris arrived at the Brig, the Captain instructed me to make a detailed scan. I believe she expected me to find an abnormality in his chemistry... instead I detected absolutely nothing standing in front of me."
"How's that possible?" Kes asked. "Surely there would be some kind of life sign, even if this wasn't Tom."
"That's what I thought, too," Janeway assured the curly-haired Ocampan. "I hid a tricorder in my desk when I confronted him. I thought he might be some kind of shape-shifter. I was wrong on both accounts. The fact of the matter is, there is either nothing there, or he has a dampening field in place around himself."
"I've evaluated the sensor data returned to us, and determined that the only sector of the nebula that was altered was J-14-25. Our imposter changed the data to make J-14-25 seem impassable."
Chakotay shifted in his seat. "So, you think the real Paris is in that sector."
"We would be wise to be cautious," Tuvok stated. "After all, we will be entering the nebula with no shields. I recommend we maintain red alert."
"Noted," Janeway acknowledged. "There is something about sector J-14-25 that the imposter doesn't want us to know about, and I intend to find out what that is, and get the real Paris back. Dismissed."
* * *
Paris stared at the cell walls. He knew that at any moment he chose, he could walk straight through the wall and be free, but what would that accomplish? Janeway would be even more firmly convinced he was an alien imposter.
Instead, he decided to lie on the bunk and count the tiles on the ceiling. Maybe without his interference, nothing bad would happen this time. And if something does, I'll just jump back again, he vowed, though, he was beginning to get tired of hearing the same words over and over again.
There were forty-two tiles, he decided. Then the Brig's doors slid open, and Janeway walked in, Tuvok behind her. "I don't suppose I'm going to get a straight answer from you," she began, "but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. What is so important about J-14-25?"
"I told you, Captain," he sighed, standing. "Sector J-14-25 is an ambush. There are twelve alien vessels waiting for us."
"Why should I believe you?" she asked. "You obviously aren't Mr. Paris. Either my tricorder wasn't functioning, or you have a dampening field around you that blocked my scan. And since the Doctor couldn't scan you either, I'm afraid this doesn't portend very well for you."
"I know that. I tried to tell you about some of the... abilities I've discovered, but you didn't give me an opportunity."
"Abilities, Mr. Paris?" Janeway raised an eyebrow.
Sighing, Paris stepped forward... and straight through the forcefield. Tuvok pulled out his phaser, and the guard at the security station followed suit. "Look, if I meant anybody any harm, I could have walked through this forcefield already. I could have even kept Tuvok from bringing me here or shot sparks from my fingertips that would knock you out cold, but I didn't. You offered me the benefit of a doubt, and I'm asking you to keep doubting what your tricorders are telling you."
"What about the evidence of actions? You tampered with sensor readings," Tuvok said.
Paris rubbed the back of his neck. "That was a bad idea. But if I'd just walked up to you and asked you to avoid sector J-14-25, you would have tossed me in the brig anyway."
Janeway's frown deepened. "Until I have some proof of your credibility, I'm assigning a security detail to keep an eye on you."
"In my quarters?"
She shook her head. "In here, Mr. Paris."
Paris threw up his hands, walked back through the forcefield, and sat down on the bunk. "All right, all right. But when the twelve ships attack, or when Sub-Commander Renkal boards us, don't come ask me to fix things." Way to go Paris, he laughed at himself. You really fouled it up this time. He just hoped that everything would turn out okay, so he could get back to mending his reputation, which had just now taken a beating. The last thing he wanted to do was have to jump back through time to repeat this disaster again.
* * *
Janeway sat with clenched fists, waiting for Voyager to reach sector J-14-25. After a sonic shower, a fresh uniform, and a hot cup of coffee, she was beginning to feel a little more like herself. The incident with Paris deeply disturbed her though. She wanted to believe, having seen the firm conviction in his eyes when he'd asked for her disbelief in what she was seeing. Evidence did not lie, however, and too many things indicated that he was not who he said he was.
"Captain," Baytart said, drawing her attention to the viewscreen. "We've entered sector J-14-25."
"Any sign of alien vessels?" she asked.
"Negative," Tuvok replied.
"Mr. Baytart, resume–"
"Captain, I'm reading the impulse signatures of two vessels!" Kim said. "Four vessels... six... seven... eight... ten... eleven. Eleven vessels."
Not twelve like Tom said, she thought to herself.
"Make that twelve, Captain."
Damn. "Hail them."
Tuvok looked up a moment later. "They are not responding." Then, "They are powering weapons."
"Evasive manuevers, Mr. Par–Mr. Baytart."
Baytart, bless him for trying, instinctively attempted one of the standard Starfleet evasive patterns, obviously forgetting that he was inside a very turbulent nebula. Janeway was thrown to the floor, along with nearly everyone else on the Bridge.
Then the alien weapons hit, every single little bolt striking the unshielded Voyager. Sparks flew from the helm console, and Janeway was glad Baytart hadn't yet been able to regain his seat.
"Damage report!"
"Impulse engines, and phasers are off-line. Transporters are inoperative, and environmental controls for decks 5 through 8 are malfunctioning."
"Captain," Kim interrupted. "I'm reading transport signatures all over the ship!"
"Intruder alert!" Janeway ordered. Then four aliens materialized on the Bridge.
"No one goes for a weapon," one of them ordered. "You are my prisoners."
Janeway held out her hand, signalling for no one to touch their phasers. "I'm certain we can come to some kind of agreement–"
The alien wasn't listening. He turned toward the helm, then wheeled back, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Renkal, Bartow. Some of the aliens are putting up a fight. Do we have reinforcements?"
"Negative, Bartow." He switched off his comm, then pointed his gun at Janeway. "Where is the one who sits in the front chair?"
"Mr. Baytart?" Chakotay asked.
"The other one. Pale eyes."
"Tom Paris?" Janeway asked, dreading the meaning of it all.
"Him. Where is he?"
"In our brig..."
Renkal laughed. "Very well... you are my prisoner. I will take you through your ship deck by deck and you will tell your people to stand down."
"I will do no such thing..."
Renkal turned and fired his gun once, the bullet slamming into Baytart, knocking him backwards against his console. The helpless ensign was killed instantly. "You will tell your people to surrender," he repeated.
Janeway closed her eyes wearily. Paris had warned her, and she hadn't listened. She reached up and touched her commbadge. "Janeway to all hands. Stand down, I repeat, stand down." Placing her hands on her hips, she glared up at Renkal. "Sub-Commander Renkal, Mr. Paris asked to meet you when you boarded. Shall I lead you to him?"
The alien's eyes widened as he realized he hadn't told her his rank. "So... he remembers, does he? Very well. I shall take care of 'Mr. Paris.' Lead on, but keep in mind, I have a weapon trained on your back. If you so much as step the wrong way, I'll kill you."
Janeway gave everyone reassuring nods as she stepped toward the turbolift, hoping she was doing the right thing.
When the twelve ships attack, or when Sub-Commander Renkal boards the ship, don't come ask me to fix things, he'd said.
But that's just what I'm going to do, Tom, she told herself. I only hope you can fix things.
She tried her best to ignore the fact that the gun pointed at her back was the same weapon that killed Baytart for no reason. She tried to concentrate on making slow movements, so that Renkal wouldn't think she was trying anything stupid.
They reached the brig, and Janeway opened the door. The guard, Ensign Parker, was still at his post, looking very upset. "Stand down, Ensign," she ordered.
"Disarm yourself," Renkal snapped. "Slowly place your weapon on the floor and step away. I want you in my sight at all times."
"Sub-Commander Renkal. How very nice to see you," Paris commented drily from his bunk.
"Tom Paris. How very nice of you to get yourself in trouble this time," the alien laughed. "I must say, taking the ship was easy without your interference."
Paris raised an eyebrow. "You remember last time?"
"Quite clearly. As I recall, I attempted to shoot you, but the bullet passed right through. You must tell me how you did it."
He spread his hands, grinning. "I might show you some time." To Janeway's surprise, sparks began to jump from fingertip to fingertip. "You obviously remember this, then."
"Quite clearly," Renkal snarled. "This time, I have won."
"What do you mean 'this time?'" Janeway scowled, completely lost. "What is going on?"
The alien laughed again. "You didn't tell your own leader?" He tipped his head back, enjoying what he obviously thought was humor. "Well, Captain, your Mr. Paris and I have met before... on the Bridge of your starship. As I recall, I attempted to shoot him to get you to agree to call off your crew. I did not hit him, unfortunately. He knocked me out with the lightning from his fingers."
"I could do it again, if you don't mind," Paris grinned, sparks leaping.
"Oh, but I do mind, Mr. Paris. If you attempt anything I don't like, I will kill your Captain."
"Oh," Paris said, then nodded.
Renkal attempted to turn around, but he wasn't fast enough for Parker. The ensign had slowly crept toward his phaser while Paris distracted the alien, then, at Paris' nod, he fired, felling the pirate with one shot.
"Good work, Ensign," Janeway acknowledged. As Paris stepped through the forcefield, she turned to him. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Mr. Paris."
"I do, but I don't have time for it. Even now, more aliens could be headed for this room." He shook his head. "Captain, how can I convince you to not enter the nebula?"
"Right now? Quite easily."
Paris shook his head again. "Before we enter the nebula. How?"
"If you brought me proof that going around would take less effort than going through..."
"But how? When I tampered with the sensor readings, you thought I was an alien."
Janeway began to rub her temples. "How certain are you that you can't be hurt?"
"Not so certain that I'm going to try to blow myself up, but I'm fairly certain. Why?"
"Enter the nebula, find the pirates, and get a good sensor reading on them. I think I'll be convinced, then."
Paris grinned. "That just might work." Like the Cheshire cat, she could have sworn his smile remained even after the rest of him had disappeared.