Be Careful What You Wish For

by Barbara Watson

  Six decks down, in the converted computer lab, B’Elanna Torres rolled onto her side and looked at the face of her now sleeping husband. He’d been so gentle with her—both physically and emotionally—in these last few weeks of her pregnancy. Under the worst of circumstances, this was ironically one of the best times in their relationship, she knew, when a crisis had actually pulled them together instead of apart. Yet she couldn’t help but think of how close they’d come to losing everything. The thought gave her chills.

  She wiped a small bead of sweat off of Tom’s brow as she watched him. Somehow, these days, he didn’t look quite so childlike as he slept; she could see the toll this last week had taken. And she knew about the nightmares.

  She was glad they were sharing one bed again; when he would slip into a fitful dream, she could be there, rub her hand on his chest, whisper to him that it would be alright, and fall back to sleep with him wrapped in her arms. She had survived the loss of close friends before—as had Tom—but these past experiences had taken a huge toll. She suspected the accident at Caldik Prime was a regular feature of Tom’s dreams these days—even if, this time, he wasn’t even remotely to blame for the loss of his friends. But Harry had meant so much to Tom, not only as a close friend, but as a symbol of and barometer for his reclamation and redemption. She knew that this hole in Tom’s life would probably never be filled. But—unlike Caldik Prime—this time Tom wouldn’t have to go through it all alone.

  She saw his brow furrow, and reached a hand up to smooth it. “Shhh,” she said softly as he slept. “I’m here.” The she kissed his chest where her face lay, pulled him close to her and closed her eyes. “I’m right here.”

  ~*~*~*~*~

  PART 8 -- ABSENT FRIENDS

  At 0800 hours the next morning, Kathryn Janeway walked into the ready room of her counterpart on the USS Resnick. “Captain Janeway,” he greeted her warmly. “It’s nice to see how well you’ve recovered. You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you.”

  She shook his hand, but kept her distance. Tom hadn’t said much about his interaction with Captain Wheaton, but she knew some words had passed between them—enough to make Tom relocate all of Voyager’s crew back to their abandoned ship. Still, she had a lot to be grateful for where the Resnick and its officers were concerned. “Thank you, Captain,” she said. “You literally saved our lives. My crew and I owe you quite a debt.”

  “It was the least I could do for Wes’s ship,” he said warmly.

  She wasn’t following him. “Wes?” Wheaton looked surprised.

  “Commander Wesley Cavit, your first officer,” he reminded her.

  Janeway was instantly embarrassed at how long it had been since she had even thought of the dead man’s name. She had known Cavit all of three weeks before leaving on their mission to the Badlands, and he was killed before Voyager’s crew even realized what had happened to them. “Of course,” she said, trying to cover her lapse, “He was a fine officer. It was a terrible tragedy.”

  Wheaton’s eyes hardened as he continued, “Yes, I suppose we have the Maquis to thank for that.”

  ‘Excuse me?’ she thought to herself. “Commander Cavit was killed when Voyager was pulled into the Delta Quadrant. The Maquis had nothing to do with his death.”

  She could see Wheaton’s eyes harden. “Well, they were the reason you went on this mission in the first place.”

  Janeway stiffened at the disdain she saw in his eyes. She knew there’d be no reasoning with him, but she wouldn’t allow his comments to go unchallenged. “I’ve never believed in holding someone accountable for the actions of another, no matter what the circumstances,” she said with some disdain. “Besides, as I’m sure you’ve been told, the former Maquis have been serving with great distinction as members of Voyager’s Starfleet crew. The Liberty’s captain has been my first officer for the past seven years.”

  This reminder seemed to unnerve Wheaton, who remarked, “Yes, an ingenious tactical move on your part, Captain. What better way to undermine the threat they posed to you and your ship than to make them feel like part of the crew. I’m amazed you were able to keep them in line for so long.”

  Alright, she thought, I’ve had enough of this. She didn’t have to defend herself or her people to this functionary. She decided to get on with her business.

  “Captain Wheaton, I understand you have a message for me from Starfleet Command?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Admiral Paris’s ship is in orbit of Starbase 32. He’s asked that you and your senior officers report to him as soon as we arrive.”

  She was looking forward to seeing her old friend again. “Of course,” she answered. “What’s our ETA?”

  The captain referred to his monitor, “We should get there tomorrow morning just about this time.”

  He turned again to face her. “I suppose the Admiral is looking forward to seeing his son again. That poor man has suffered so much, what with his boy’s causing that accident, then joining the Maquis and getting thrown in jail. Not to mention all the rumors after Voyager disappeared.” She was not following him this time either, which he quickly realized. “Of course,” he said, “you wouldn’t know about that.”

  Janeway’s brow was furrowed as she braced for yet another assault to her sensibilities. “About what?”

  “When Voyager first disappeared, there were rumors throughout the fleet that your ‘observer’ had led you into a Maquis trap. Everyone was sure he set you up, led you into an ambush. Starfleet spent the longest time searching every Class M planet within striking distance of the Badlands, seeing if your crew had been abandoned by Paris and his friends. When Voyager was finally declared lost, I guess everyone just assumed he’d gotten you all killed.”

  Things Tom had said were making sense to her now, and she was outraged. Was this the attitude her friend had faced while on the Resnick?

  She also realized the larger implications. Voyager had been missing for over three years before they got a message back to the Federation. Three years during which most of Starfleet thought Tom Paris had gotten them all killed or captured. This story had clearly run rampant throughout the ranks. Did it even matter now that it hadn’t been true? How could Tom ever reclaim his reputation in the face of this kind of nonsense? It made her furious.

  “Captain, Lieutenant Paris is a loyal officer and a fine man. He had nothing to do with our disappearance. The troubles he experienced when he was younger are in his past—and were the day he stepped aboard Voyager. I’ll be expecting you and everyone else to treat him with the respect he has earned during these past seven years.”

  Wheaton was a little taken aback by her reaction. Clearly she had lost her perspective after working so closely with this bunch over so many years. “Well, I suppose with his father around to keep an eye on him, Thomas Paris is the least of our problems.” Janeway stewed, but let it go, as he continued delivering the bad news.

  “I also spoke with Starbase 32’s chief of security, and she asked me to inform you that your non-commissioned personnel will be confined aboard Voyager during your stay at the base unless personally escort by you or a member of the base security staff. We’re in a militarily and diplomatically-sensitive region and we can’t take any chances.” This was getting more and more incredible to believe. “Chances on what? My people are experienced Starfleet officers? What risk could they possibly pose?”

  Wheaton was becoming increasingly concerned about Janeway’s objectivity. “Forgive me, Captain, but your senior staff currently consists of three former Maquis—one of whom is a convicted felon—an alien of a species we know nothing about, a hologram, and a Borg drone. Not to mention the thirty other Maquis crewmen, and the survivors of the USS Equinox, all of whom are likely to face criminal charges when you reach to Earth. Starbase 32 is on the edge of the Neutral Zone in one of the most highly-volatile areas of space, and you’re asking me what risk they pose? I’m afraid you may be too close to these people to be thinking clearly.”

&n
bsp; The scientist in Kathryn Janeway was beginning to make the mental calculations of exactly how long it would take her to suffocate this man with his own uniform. She couldn’t deny that—where her crew was concerned—she may well be biased. But she also knew this was just garbage. “Captain, I assure you, my people are no threat to Federation security. They have served for seven years on a Starfleet ship upholding Federation law. Their conduct has been above reproach. They’ve been stranded on Voyager, cut off from real communication with their friends and families for a long time. They’ve earned the right to make use of the base’s facilities. I can’t believe Starfleet Command won’t make allowances for the unique nature of their situation.”

  Wheaton was unmoved. “That may be true. But until the formal hearings, their status is unresolved. Technically, Paris’s parole ended the moment your mission came to an end, and the Maquis are under indictment for almost a half-dozen crimes from piracy to hijacking to organized terrorism.” Wheaton could see the veins growing along Janeway’s temple, and decided to diffuse the situation. “Don’t worry, Captain. As long as they follow our security procedures, Paris and the other provisionals will be treated cordially, like any other guests of the Federation.”

  “Pardon me, Captain, but these ‘provisionals’ are not ‘guests,’ they’re my crew. And they deserve better treatment than this.” This conversation was over, she decided. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to tend to.” She turned on her heel and headed for the transporter room without looking back.

  During their years in the Delta Quadrant, Janeway and her crew had turned their diverse and complicated backgrounds—Starfleet, Maquis, Talaxian, Borg—into their greatest strength. Each group, each person, brought to their mission a unique set of gifts that, when brought to bear in combination with the others, offered a piece of the complex puzzle that had been their fight for survival. Without trying, she could call up dozens of memories of how one or another of their talents had been the only thing to save them all from certain death.

  Here, however, she was learning a lesson some of her crew had always known: that Starfleet thrived as much on order and rigidity as it did on inspiration and talent. Before she had left on this mission, she would have ardently defended Starfleet’s position. Now, in light of all they had been through, it somehow seemed short-sighted, bureaucratic, and beneath the lofty ideals she had always associated with the Federation. She didn’t know what to do about these conflicted feelings.

  She was starting to realize something else: that her promise to get her crew home would mean more than simply leading them back to Earth. It would mean fighting for their dignity, their careers, and—in some cases—their freedom. She wondered if this battle would be just as hard as the ones they had fought to get out of the Delta Quadrant.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  With Deck 1 still a hopeless wreck, Janeway called her senior staff to the mess hall for their first briefing since the accident. She quickly realized that—probably out of habit—Neelix had surrounded the table with nine chairs. It would take a long time, she knew, before their routines adapted to accommodate their losses, but she was just as glad in this case. A symbolic place for Tuvok and Harry seemed fitting for this gathering.

  Kathryn had asked Chakotay to meet her a few minutes early. She needed to talk through her growing fears about the reaction her ‘provisional’ crew might face once they were home. The thought, like the word, made her furious, but she knew she had to prepare for the reality of their situation.

  When her first officer walked through the door, she got her first good news of the day.

  “You’ve gotten rid of your cane!” she said happily.

  He was clearly favoring his left leg, but was able to walk without the crutch. “I spent the last two hours in sickbay,” he explained. “A few more rounds with the osteo-regenerator and the Doctor says I’ll be 100%.” He walked over to join her, but kept a respectful distance. Since they were alone in the room, however, he wasn’t above a personal comment. “You owe me a dance at Admiral Stewart’s house, don’t forget, and I want this leg fully recovered.”

  She smiled, “As I recall, I owe you something more than a dance....” The memory of her promise made them both smile.

  Chakotay was relieved at how comfortable Kathryn seemed to be with him this morning. This was their first extended conversation since she had fallen asleep in his arms the night before. By the time he woke up, she had left for her meeting with Captain Wheaton, and he worried that she might be uncomfortable with his decision to spend the night in her quarters. It made him happy to see her so at ease now.

  He also knew that this meeting would also be a test, of sorts, of their revised ‘agreement.’ The new plan called for discretion instead of denial, and he was anxious to prove to her that their professional lives could go on as normal. Oddly, enough, he decided to take his cue from Tom and B’Elanna; in the three plus years they had been a couple, their personal relationship rarely interfered with their duties as senior officers (with the exception of a few alien-/hormonally-induced displays at the very start of their courtship). They proved that mates could function as officers and as professionals despite their close bonds. And Chakotay realized the stakes were even higher in light of his and Kathryn’s ranks.

  So there would be no physical displays of affection, no acknowledgement of their off-duty relationship when they were outside the privacy of their quarters. And he would talk to Tom today about getting his own cabin. Still, she had been the one to mention her promise of a kiss in front of the Federation brass at their homecoming party—a promise she could only keep once his resignation from Starfleet had been accepted. He looked forward to that celebration for more than one reason.

  And, while she had every intention of keeping her promise, Kathryn was now less sure that the welcome home party would even take place. She wondered how much any of them would even feel like celebrating in light of their losses, the uncertain status of the Maquis, and the prejudice she now feared they and Tom were likely to face.

  She motioned for Chakotay to sit with her on the couch by the windows, and quickly filled him in on her conversation with Wheaton, the fury growing in her voice as she spoke. Chakotay, was less than shocked to find a bias against the Maquis and Seven of Nine. He was surprised at one part of her story, however. “Even when he was my pilot,” he told her, “I never really thought of Tom Paris as a Maquis. He was a mercenary, and we both knew it. After he was captured, I was sure he had been a Starfleet spy. To think that people in the Federation actually believed he had led you into a Maquis trap—it seems ludicrous.”

  He was quiet for a moment as he thought of his own low opinion of their helmsman, just a few short years ago. He couldn’t figure out anymore whether Tom had become a different person or if he had just misjudged the man so badly. Probably some of both, he realized, though Chakotay knew he didn’t have the best track record in accessing character. (It was only after they landed in the Delta Quadrant that he discovered both Tuvok and Seska had been the real spies aboard the Liberty.) “Have you told Tom about this?” he asked Kathryn.

  “Not yet. He’s had enough to deal with in the past few days. I don’t see what purpose would be served by telling him now.”

  Chakotay respected her desire to protect Paris, but knew that she was risking Tom’s finding out from a less sympathetic source. “You need to do what you think is best, but it would probably be easier on Tom to hear this from you.”

  At that, the topic of their conversation entered the room, with B’Elanna at his side. He couldn’t help but hear the tail end of Chakotay’s warning. “For Tom to hear what from you?”

  The captain didn’t miss a beat. “That your career as my first officer was short-lived, I’m afraid. As you can see, I’ve declared Commander Chakotay fit for duty. Sorry, Tom.”

  She was glad for the distraction when the doors opened to reveal Seven of Nine, with the Doctor close behind. The captain hadn’t seen Seven since the pre-m
ission briefing a week before. She knew from Tom that Seven hadn’t been herself since the accident. Kathryn was glad to see that—other than seeming a little tired—her friend was looking well.

  For Seven’s part, the sight of her captain—smiling, in uniform, and clearly recovered from her injuries—was one of the best medicines she could have received. “It’s good to see you, Captain,” she offered, “I hope you’re feeling better.”

  Janeway was touched. “Yes, Seven, thank you.” With that, Neelix arrived. “Shall we get started?” the captain asked.

  As they took their places at the table it was almost as if they were waiting for their missing friends to arrive for the briefing. Everyone seemed uncomfortable with both the strangeness and familiarity they all felt. They knew Harry and Tuvok were gone, yet the two empty chairs were in familiar spots: to Kathryn’s left and Tom’s right.

  Janeway knew, before any work could get done, she needed to acknowledge their pain. “I know everyone is probably thinking of the last time we were gathered around this table. We had a decision to make about our future, about who would continue forward with our mission to reach Earth, and who would stay behind. We made that decision together, unanimously, knowing there were huge risks involved. And we succeeded. But at a terrible price.”