She waited for his familiar, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ but got a restrained, “Aye, Captain,” instead. Maybe this new job was growing on him.
As she waited for Tom to arrive, Kathryn couldn’t believe what she was about to do. But if this worked out, this new assignment could mean a challenging, but incredibly meaningful mission for them all. And it might go a long way toward healing some of her friends’ wounds permanently.
Lt. Commander Paris appeared at her door in a matter of moments. “Admiral,” he acknowledged his father as protocol dictated, as if they weren’t still living in the same house and hadn’t just had breakfast together four hours ago. “Captain, what can I do for you both?”
Her eyes gleamed as she handed him the PADD. “I have a mission for you, Tom,” she said wryly. He could never have guessed what she was about to say.
Tom already knew his way to the motor fleet repair bay. He’d spent more than his fair share of time tuning up these old heaps as part of his rehabilitation. Still the guards felt the need to point him in the right direction. He found the man he was looking for lying under an old shuttlecraft, welding off a blown power conduit. He was surprised to see his old friend looking tanned and rested, as if he’d been at a spa instead of in prison.
“Hey,” he called out. “You look like somebody I used to know.” Chakotay smiled up at his friend. It had been almost five months since they’d last seen each other, and in some ways it felt like a lifetime.
“Well,” he answered, “if it isn’t Lieutenant Commander Paris. Come to show off that new pip or are you up to something useful for a change?”
Tom smiled. “Look,” he said back at his friend, “I know I’m not a beautiful redhead, but I’m here to spring you.” Chakotay looked confused; Tom just laughed. “Wait until you hear what they want us to do!” he said as he helped his friend off the ground. “Let’s take a walk.”
“They want us to what?” Tom wasn’t surprised. It had been his reaction, too.
“You heard me. They want us to lead a Federation humanitarian mission to Cardassia Prime. You know: food, medical supplies, the whole works. In exchange, the Cardassians have agreed to give Starfleet some intelligence data on a Maquis prison break that happened just before the whole thing with the Dominion went south on them. Three impounded Maquis ships were stolen about the same time. They think the two were related.”
Chakotay was stunned. “So some of the Maquis might have gotten away? Why didn’t Sveta mention this to me? She seems to think all of the rest of our friends are all dead.”
Tom nodded. “Apparently the Cardassian government covered it all up. They were humiliated that the Maquis were able to break out right under their noses. Some guy named Riker apparently orchestrated the whole thing. It would have been a huge embarrassment to them at the time. Of course, pretty soon afterward they had bigger problems than a few dozen escaped prisoners.”
Chakotay couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Let’s say the story is true and we get whatever information the Cardassians have about these Maquis. Then what?”
“Then Voyager goes looking for them. There were sightings of the missing ships heading into the Badlands. The Cardies took some shots at them and at least two of the three ships were damaged. They could have landed—or crashed—on one of the Class M planets in the Terikof Belt. They could be regrouping, waiting for reinforcements to come. Or they could be dead. We won’t know until we try to find them.”
Chakotay was incredulous. “There’s been no sign of them in years? I can’t believe it. Someone would have seen or heard something.” Then he realized: maybe not. The Terikof planetoids had water, and plant and animal life—enough to sustain a humanoid colony for many years. Any Maquis living there would have had no access to technology, though, if their ships were damaged or destroyed. And subspace transmitters would be useless with all the interference from the plasma storms. There very well could be Maquis alive and hiding out—or trapped—in the Badlands.
Tom had allowed Chakotay to come to this realization on his own. Another thought came right behind it. “If this is true, they might not even know that the war is over.”
“Exactly,” Tom said. Which is why Starfleet is a little hesitant to just go in searching for them. They might believe it was some kind of a trap.” Chakotay was sure that they would. At the time these prisoners escaped, the Federation was still helping the Cardassians hunt down and capture the Maquis. They’d probably be incredibly suspicious of any Starfleet crew claiming to be there to rescue them. Suddenly, it was all making sense.
“So,” Chakotay said. “That’s why they want Voyager to lead the mission. A ship full of former Maquis—now loyal Starfleet officers—they think Riker and his cell will believe them.”
Tom nodded. “That’s pretty much it. Plus, Voyager was designed and built to maneuver through the plasma storms in the Badlands. Only an Intrepid class ship can make it in and out. It has to be us.”
Chakotay didn’t know what to think. “Why would the Cardassians want to help us find some escaped Maquis?”
Tom explained. “It was their idea. The prisoners were all former Starfleet officers. They know Starfleet would rescue them if it could, so they’re using their information about the prisoners as a bargaining chip to get Federation aid and assistance. Their entire civilization has been devastated. They need Federation help to survive.”
Chakotay’s head was spinning. Every impulse in his body was resisting the belief that a Federation/Cardassian alliance could be a positive thing. Wasn’t that how they got into this mess in the first place? “Okay, so you’ve answered the question, ‘why Voyager?’ But I need to know: why me?”
“You’re one of the last surviving Maquis officers. They’ll trust you. Plus, the Federation wants a civilian in joint control of the mission. They’re afraid the Maquis won’t believe anyone in a Starfleet uniform. Even if they used to fight alongside them.” Tom took a deep breath. “I’m sure you can remember how you felt the first time you saw me standing back in uniform on Voyager’s bridge. If your eyes had been phasers, I’d be dead right now.”
Chakotay was unconvinced. “I’m just not sure I can do this, Tom. Not after everything that happened. I can’t just meet casually with Cardassian officials after what they did to my family. I’d feel like I was betraying everything my father died for.”
Paris understood. Then he remembered a phrase he’d heard his father use when describing the parallels between this situation and another in Federation history. “Chakotay, have you ever heard the phrase ‘only Kirk could go to Qo’noS’?”
Basic Federation history; of course he knew. “James Kirk, The Kitomer Accords, right?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah. Two civilizations: the ‘good guys’—the Federation, of course—and the ‘bad guys’, a highly aggressive species known for their brutality, their tendency to want to conquer other worlds by force, and their total lack of scruples when it came to warfare. I think you might have heard of them. They’re called Klingons.”
“Make your point, Tom,” Chakotay said. Paris knew that he—of all people—could.
“The Klingons had battled Kirk and his crew for years. They were bitter enemies; a Klingon even murdered Kirk’s son. The Federation and the Empire were stuck in an ongoing cold war, which occasionally turned hot. Everyone suspected that an all-out war was inevitable, and no one would take bets on who might win. Then the Klingon energy plant on Praxis exploded and the balance of power shifted. The Klingons were on the verge of dying out as a race. The Federation held all the cards, and had a choice: make peace with the Klingons, help them rebuild, or exploit the situation as their best chance to wipe out a bitter enemy for good.”
Feeling just a little dense, Chakotay was getting Tom’s point. He finished the parable for his friend. “So the Federation sent Kirk, of all people, to negotiate the peace treaty with the Klingon government on Qo’noS. I get it. We’re the ‘good guys’ and we don’t exploit another culture—even our bitt
er enemies—just because we hold the military advantage. It would make us no better than them.”
Tom nodded, then continued making his point. “And it turns out that the Klingons weren’t the one-sided stereotype most of the Federation had come to believe. They’re actually quite an honorable people once you get to know them—though I don’t recommend eating in their restaurants. And, let me tell you, I, for one, am really glad we made peace with the Empire. Though, I have to say that keeping that peace is something I struggle with just about every day of my life.”
The men smiled. Tom’s joke led Chakotay to another thought. “So what does B’Elanna think about this new mission?”
Paris’s expression turned serious. “She’s skeptical. She’s waiting to see what you think before she makes up her mind.” Tom turned to look at his friend. “Maybe only Chakotay can go to Cardassia. Maybe the anger and hatred and threat of future conflicts won’t end until somebody with every reason to hate the Cardassians decides to take a chance on building a new peace.”
Damn. When did Tom Paris get to be so eloquent? “Okay. So let’s assume I were to go on this questionable mission. What’s the plan?”
Tom handed Chakotay a PADD, but summarized its contents. “Voyager leads a convoy of supply vessels to Cardassia Prime, where we spend a few weeks helping them plan out a rebuilding project and pump them for information about the escaped prisoners. Then we leave a diplomatic envoy to coordinate the humanitarian efforts, and head for the Badlands. We find some way of verifying that there are Maquis hiding there and do our best to convince them to listen. If they do, we take them with us and keep looking. We don’t stop until we’re sure we’ve rescued anyone left alive.”
He could tell his friend was almost convinced. “So what’s my role in all of this?”
Tom was pretty sure this answer would push Chakotay over the top. “Technically, you’d be a civilian consultant to the Federation, and a roving ambassador to the Cardassian system. ‘Roving’ is the key word: you and your team would be housed on Voyager. The rescue operation would be under joint command; you would have to coordinate the logistics with Captain Janeway. In a sense, the two of you would share command of this mission. That is, if you can stand the thought of working that closely—probably for years—with someone so stubborn and strong-willed.”
Chakotay couldn’t help but smile. “Did she arrange this assignment?” he asked.
Tom laughed. “Amazingly enough, I think it was my dad’s idea.” Tom let it all sink in for a minute before he continued.
“So, whadda you say?” He saw the conflict on his friend’s face. Then he got the answer he was hoping for.
“I’m in.” Chakotay said with growing conviction. “Now when do I get out of here?”
~*~*~*~*~
Tom Paris had become an optimist of late; so much so that he had already transported Chakotay’s poorly-packed belongings into the cargo bay of the Delta Flyer before leaving on his “mission” to recruit his former commanding officer. Six hours later, after the typical Federation bureaucracy involved in processing a prisoner’s discharge, he and Chakotay were finally on their way home.
Each man now realized that, once again and for the foreseeable future, home would be Voyager. Earth was a nice enough vacation spot, but they had put down roots—oddly enough—in space. They both looked forward to getting back. Chakotay, in particular, was anxious to see his former captain, new business partner, and the love of his life one more time. She had honored his request to stay away while he served his time, and he’d neither seen nor heard from her in almost five months. He’d missed her more than he could stand.
Tom could have beamed directly to Auckland to pick up his friend, but—not surprisingly—the earthbound pilot was taking every chance he could to fly these days. The captain had to stop him from taking the Delta Flyer every time they needed supplies from Earth. Today, Tom reminded her, he’d have to retrieve Chakotay’s personal belongings before coming back, and she had relented. It was tempting now, on his way back to the ship, to take the scenic route home, but, out of compassion for Chakotay and Kathryn’s long separation, he plotted the shortest path back to Voyager.
There was no need for Chakotay to man one of the Flyer’s stations on this short hop from Auckland, so he sat up front with Tom, on the jump seat next to the helm. As they flew, Paris made small talk. There was a time when Chakotay had found his chatty companion’s non-stop banter annoying. These days, he kind of enjoyed catching up on the gossip. “And Neelix keeps trying to convince the me to let him program leola surprise into the replicators. I think it’s driving him crazy that we don’t need a cook anymore. So far, I’ve refused, but some of the DQ’s actually miss it.”
“DQ’s?” Chakotay asked.
Tom realized he was talking in code. “Sorry. Delta Quadrant survivors. Some of the new additions are calling us Voyager Veterans the ‘DQ’s. You should see their eyes light up when one of the vets tells a story about the Hirogen or Species 8472. Especially to the kids right out of the Academy, who are totally gullible, of course. I threatened to put Chell on gamma shift for the next year after I heard him spinning some tall tale about his personally defeating the Borg.”
“I tell you, Tom,” Chakotay reminisced, “that’s the best part of your new job: controlling the duty assignments. I would never have admitted this before, but I used to keep bumping Chell to the bottom of the rotation list for bridge duty when he was on alpha shift. The man is a decent engineer, but he just annoys the hell out of me.” He smiled at the memory. “Just one of the many perks of being the first officer.”
Chakotay’s comment was just the opening Tom was looking for. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how you feel about my...about me...”
“...taking my place?” his friend helped him say it. “I think its great. I also think it’s going to kill you at first to watch someone else maneuvering Voyager around those plasma storms. But I think you’re ready to do more than just execute someone else’s orders. I was a little surprised to hear you accepted the offer, but I have to admit that I was glad, too. Kathryn needs someone she can trust and count on in that seat. You’ll make a great team.”
Tom was relieved at the show of support, but couldn’t help but notice the way his friend’s voice trailed off at the end. “I know it’s been hard for you to be away from her so long.” Chakotay just averted his eyes as Tom continued. “Is that why you wouldn’t let any of us visit or contact you?”
Chakotay nodded. “That was part of it. I knew I’d want to ask questions about how she was doing and I also knew I didn’t want to hear the answer. But, since I’ll finally get to see her in another...,” he checked the chronometer, “fifteen minutes, I’ll go ahead and ask. How has she been?”
Paris throttled the thrusters back to avoid a micrometeor shower as he thought about how to answer. “She’s kept to herself a lot. B’Elanna and I forced her to go out to dinner with us once a week just to keep an eye on her. You know the captain, Chakotay; she just pretends she’s fine and works sixteen hour days. But it’s been hard on her.” As they made a gentle arc around the curve of the earth, they could now see McKinley Station in the distance. “I imagine it hasn’t been too easy on you, either. At least Kathryn had her friends and her sister to look out for her. It must have been hard for you to go through this all alone.”
Interesting, Chakotay observed. Tom had been concerned for him, as well. “I did feel pretty isolated sometimes. But there’s something to be said for stepping out of your life for a while, Tom. It can give you a great sense of perspective on who you really are and what you want.”
Better than most people, Tom could relate. He’d had a similar experience at Auckland years earlier. “So,” he asked, “do you know now what you want out of the rest of your life?”
Chakotay smiled. “Yes. And I suspect that everything I want out of life will be standing in that shuttlebay waiting for us to dock—assuming you get this thing moving and get us there.”
/>
Tom was no longer under Chakotay’s command, but—out of habit and friendship—he found himself answering, “Aye, aye, sir!” And he increased the thrusters to maximum.
As predicted, she was pacing the shuttlebay, waiting for him, B’Elanna by her side and almost as excited. The women heard the plink of the forcefield engaging and knew now that it wouldn’t be long. They watched the huge bay doors part and the sleek outline of the Flyer as it glided inside and onto the deck. When the doors closed and the bay was repressurized, the forcefield lowered, and B’Elanna turned to the crewman manning the bay’s console. “Chell,” she said. “You’re excused.” The women were now alone and hardly able to contain their excitement as the Flyer’s access hatch opened.
Tom deliberately held back and let his passenger disembark first. As he followed Chakotay across the large room, Tom wasn’t sure he could have shown quite as much restraint as he was now watching from his two friends. Of course, they’d had seven years of practice, he now realized.
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