NEW Takeover Bid [PG] VOY (T)
Title: Takeover Bid
Author: Dave Rogers (daverogers@geocities.com)
Series: VOY
Part: NEW 1/1
Rating: [PG]
Codes: T
Summary: Missing scene from "Hunters". B'Elanna's curiosity over
Admiral Paris' letter leaves her in possession of a dark secret.
PTC Archivist's Challenge story.
Disclaimer: B'Elanna is from Paramount. The letter is from me.
Acknowledgements: Jim Wright's "Delta Blues" website at
http://www.treknews.com/deltablues for background material.
Author's note: "Hunters" aired in the UK the weekend before last.
I've read a few "What was in Tom's letter" stories; I felt there
was an alternative left unexplored. I've only started writing
fanfic recently, so I'd be very grateful for any comments.
Takeover Bid
"I'll let you know when I get the whole letter", she promised. Already she could
feel the tension between them easing. She still felt her grief at the deaths of
old friends and comrades, but in her time in the Maquis there had been many times
when she'd known someone she cared about was never coming back. What made the
difference, this time, was that she wasn't alone. She knew Tom was in pain from the
memories unearthed at the prospect of hearing from his father, but they would get
through it. Together.
As Tom left, B'Elanna returned to the console and watched the message gradually
scrolling on to the PADD - this one seemed to be coming through more or less whole.
Tom was so worried about this, perhaps she'd better read through it so she'd know
what sort of reaction to expect when he got it. Nothing to do with satisfying her
own curiosity. Nothing at all.
Message to: Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, USS Voyager.
Message from: Admiral Owen Paris, Starfleet Command.
PRIVATE AND PERSONAL: FOR YOUR EYES ONLY
B'Elanna almost stopped reading there. *But then, why shouldn't these be his
eyes? After all, the rest of me is his.* Her mind drifted for a moment,
savouring some of the more delicious implications of that thought. The PADD
called her back to reality by scrolling a few more lines.
Dear Thomas,
*Bad start. Everybody, but everybody, calls him Tom. What is this, a business
letter?*
While I must confess that my feelings when you were reported missing were
not unmixed, I was pleased to hear that you had not only survived, but won
the confidence of Captain Janeway. In my experience, your captain is an
efficient and capable officer, and your field appointment to the rank of
lieutenant suggests that she has detected qualities in you that have not
been apparent to me for many years.
B'Elanna snorted derisively. Was there a compliment in there somewhere? Never
mind, at least he wasn't disowning Tom, at least he was trying to make some
kind of contact. She so hoped that this might be the start of some kind of
reconciliation, some kind of healing for the emotional scars that Tom hid so
well from everyone but her. Besides, if he felt good about it, she had some...
interesting ideas on how to celebrate.
What is most hopeful about this
situation, however, is that you are now once again wearing a Starfleet
uniform. You are no doubt by now aware that the Federation is at war, and
our needs for good officers are so great that I believe Starfleet may be
prepared to confirm even you
*Even you? This is his son! The poisonous, small minded...* She broke off the
thought as more came through.
substantively in the post you occupy when you
return. It is therefore not impossible that you may ultimately still be able
to fulfil my lifelong ambition for you to rise to command rank within
Starfleet. However, in order to achieve this, there are certain steps you
must take.
Curiosity was starting to give way to anger now. Didn't this man realise that
his son had his own ambitions? Couldn't he have his own life, even here, tens
of thousands of light years from his father?
Firstly, you must change the direction of your career. Piloting is, as I
have told you more times than I care to recall, no foundation for a command
career. It goes without saying that the medical branch is even less so.
Despite her anger, B'Elanna managed a slight smile. *That's the first thing the
old tyrant's said that Tom might agree with!* But she was finding herself
understanding, more and more, why Tom had fallen so low before coming to the
Delta Quadrant. This man had built a life for him and imprisoned him within it,
and Tom had had to raze all of it to the ground to escape. And now, just as he
was building a new life, a life of his own choosing, his father was trying to
take over. *Maybe Tom won't see this letter*, she thought. *Maybe it'll get...
lost.*
I would recommend an immediate career move to the Science, Tactical or
Operations areas. Despite your mechanical abilities, you must avoid
Engineering, which has been a graveyard for many a promising officer's
career. I would even go so far as to discourage too close a contact with
your ship's own engineering department; their priorities are too narrowly
defined to allow the freedom of action that command requires.
Damn him! He was trying to split them up without even knowing about them. Could
she really keep this from Tom and retain her honour? Suddenly, destroying the
letter started to look more selfish, more like an attempt to hold on to him at
the expense of his career. Admiral Paris seemed to have the ability, almost
effortlessly, to manipulate people he hadn't even met.
Feeling the anger rising within her, she started looking for something to hit
or throw. But more text came through, and her anger faded to be replaced by...
Having transferred to a more suitable department, your next priority must
be to advance your interests. This is difficult on a small ship, but it can
be done. While Starfleet stresses the importance of teamwork, there are
ways to demonstrate who are the more valuable members of the team.
Lieutenant-Commander Tuvok is an able but unimaginative officer; while the
ensign currently occupying the Operations station is unknown to me, I am
aware that he is young and inexperienced. Both have weaknesses. Compete for
a place in the captain's esteem. While I have seen you at times bound by
misguided ideals of friendship, you must understand that in these difficult
times it is imperative for the best officers in Starfleet to be recognised.
...a touch of fear. Could he really mean that? Harry, Tom's closest friend; Tuvok,
whom he admired, who still had his gratitude for saving his life - this Admiral
wanted Tom to stab them in the back? This man thought like a Romulan. And yet, some
day, if - *WHEN, B'Elanna, WHEN* - they finally made it back to the Alpha Quadrant,
he would be wielding considerable power over all of them, might even be their
commanding officer. How could she serve a man who thought this way? How could
Janeway have missed this side of his character? Then she remembered the famous
mask of the Parises, the way they hid their feelings and tried to be all things
to all men. It irritated her in Tom, but at least he only used it for defence.
The Admiral clearly used it in other ways. *This... man... is... dangerous*.
Ultimately, while a promotion to lieutenant-commander should be within your
reach, it might seem that your situation precludes higher rank. Stay open
to possibilities, though. Commander Chakotay was an able officer, but went
on to disgrace his uniform far more completely than you ever managed to, and
his loyalty must be considered suspect. As for the Captain, your mission logs
make it clear that the Delta Quadrant is a dangerous place. Accidents occur.
Be prepared to benefit from them. While I would not of course advocate any of
the more disreputable practices of our Klingon allies, remember that even
captains are not immortal.
Curiosity, anger, fear - all were gone now, replaced by a dull sense of horror.
B'Elanna felt her hands shaking as she read. This went far further than simply
protecting Tom; news that a Starfleet admiral could write such a letter might
tear apart the Federation. Or could it? She looked back over the text, and
realised that everything Admiral Paris had said, even that last chilling remark,
could simply be interpreted as a loving father giving advice to his son. But she
knew, oh, so well, that his true meaning was darker. Maybe it was the war, the
stress, the mixed emotions over his son's loss and unexpected survival; B'Elanna
began to wonder whether the Admiral had gone insane.
I must keep my remarks brief, as many others no doubt have their own messages
to send. Reflect on my advice, Thomas. If you are able to return as a
lieutenant-commander, I feel sure I will once again be able to consider you
a true Paris, and accept you as my son. You have one last opportunity to restore
this family's honour. Do not fail me again.
That was all. B'Elanna was shaking all over now, whether with fear or rage she
didn't really know. This... this was dishonourable. He'd taken his Starfleet
ideals and turned them inside out, and preached treachery in the name of honour.
And then, as the reward for deceit and dishonour, promised Tom the one thing
that might, just, persuade him - a father's love.
Delivering the letter, hiding the letter, destroying the letter - none of these
could she even contemplate. And, of course, the most insidious part was that she
couldn't even ask anyone else. Harry or Chakotay mustn't see this, they'd end up
watching their backs whenever Tom was on the bridge. Tuvok might even take
counter-measures. And the captain - a man Janeway admired and respected had damned
nearly ordered her assassination!
Then, as B'Elanna looked back at that "disreputable practices of our Klingon allies"
line, the rage finally took over.
B'Elanna didn't remember much about the next few minutes. When she finally regained
a fragile measure of self-control, she realised she'd taken out most of her anger
on the walls. Her hands were grazed and bleeding, and fragments of the PADD
containing Admiral Paris' message were scattered everywhere, but the main console
was, mercifully, undamaged. She'd have had a hell of a job explaining that away.
It was no good, she had to tell Tom. Their relationship was too new, too fragile,
to cope with this, maybe. She'd finally begun to hope that life held some joy for
her, for both of them, but this could destroy Tom. Or worse, change him, turn him
into the revised and improved copy that the Admiral clearly wanted - what interest
could such a man have in her? But she owed it to him to be honest, not to keep this
dark secret from him - that could just as easily tear them apart. She took a moment -
maybe the last moment - to reflect on the last few weeks, the happiest she'd ever
known, maybe would ever know. Then, feeling like she was signing her own death
warrant, she spoke.
"Computer, retrieve message from Admiral Owen Paris to Lieutenant Thomas Eugene
Paris and display on screen." She'd better not go anywhere for a while. Apart
from the blood on her hands, her voice was too shaky. Still, by the time she'd
downloaded it to a new PADD, she'd be OK. At least till she had to tell Tom.
The calm, dispassionate voice of the computer came back, "No such message is on
record."
"WHAT? Computer, give me the location of the latest message downloaded."
"Most recent message was downloaded directly to a mobile storage device. All
caching and backup procedures were inactive."
B'Elanna struggled to calm herself. While she wrestled with her feelings, the
chief engineer in her took over. "Computer, enable backups for all future
messages from the array. File under privacy codes for recipients." At least
she wouldn't lose any more.
Then she laughed, with a mixture of bitterness and relief. No more decision;
no more letter; no more problem. She could just about bring herself to "forget"
the message; already the exact words were fading in her mind. Tom could keep
his own life, and she could keep Tom.
More letters were coming in, more work to do. For the moment, she could lose
herself in the work; she'd see Tom later, when she was ready.
********
There was Tom. *Deep breath, look natural, don't let him suspect.* "I'm sorry,
Tom, I wasn't able to download yours in time." *Well, I wasn't able to download
it a second time, anyway. Nearly true.*
He turned away, and she waited for the careless, cynical mask to fall. But when
he looked back, she could see a mixture of disappointment and relief written
clearly all over his face.
"Just when I was getting eager to read it." Hard to tell, but she believed he
actually meant that.
*Damn you, Admiral Paris,* she thought. *You don't deserve a son this good. You'd
trample on his hopes, destroy his friends and imprison him in your dreams, and
he'd still find a way to love you.*
"You could assume that he said he loves you, and that he's proud of you."
*And maybe, when the war's over and he realises what he's become, he might learn
to feel that way.*
Tom's answer seemed to take an age to come. "I think I will." There was even a
suggestion of a smile on his face.
The admiral's takeover bid had failed, she thought. Until next time.
THE END
(
geocities.com/southbeach/1380) (
geocities.com/southbeach)