Star Trek Voyager: Unworthy Page 10

  “Was it your intention that B’Elanna and Miral would join you here on Voyager ?”

  “No, Captain,” Paris replied. “We intended to set off on our own, as far from the Warriors of Gre’thor as possible.”

  Eden’s eyes narrowed. “I’m pleased Starfleet was able to accommodate you, Mister Paris,” she said with evident disdain.

  “Captain, I’m sorry—” Paris began as Eden moved past him toward the doors.

  “For the moment, I’m still your commanding officer,” Eden cut him off. “You will report to your quarters while I speak with your wife.”

  Though it cost Tom dearly, he nodded his assent. The disappointment flowing from her was palpable. He hadn’t known her long enough to feel he owed her anything more. He’d done his duty well. He was surprised then when he felt his face flush in shame as Eden led him back to the bridge.

  I did what I had to do, part of his mind insisted.

  As Tom was trying to determine how he was going to live with his shame, Eden added to it by saying, “Lieutenant Kim, please secure Mister Paris in his quarters. Lieutenant Patel,” she added, nodding to the science officer, “the bridge is yours.”

  The three entered the turbolift in silence and Paris felt that quiet grow heavier until they reached deck five and Eden exited without a word. The moment the doors had closed Harry blurted out, “It took me a minute to verify my readings and to cross-check them with Lasren’s, but I know I’m right. B’Elanna and Miral were on that shuttle, weren’t they?” Harry demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “And you knew?”

  “Yes.”

  If Eden’s dismay had been palpable, Harry’s was like a punch to the gut. Tom couldn’t tell if the tears welling up in Harry’s eyes were of relief or anger.

  “You knew they weren’t dead,” Harry confirmed though he clearly didn’t want to believe it.

  “I’m sorry, Harry. It was the only way,” Tom attempted.

  “No it wasn’t,” Harry replied, his voice rising. “Since when do you lie to me about something like this? Who are you?”

  “Harry, please understand. They were going to hunt Miral down and kill her. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “I don’t care,” Kim answered, not mollified in the least. “This isn’t how we do things. We’re family. When we need help, we ask for it. You let me believe …”

  “I had to.”

  Harry shook his head, aghast.

  “No. No, you didn’t.”

  Harry led Tom out of the turbolift and down the corridor without uttering another word. He left Tom locked in his quarters, wondering how what was supposed to have been the happiest moment of his life in years had just become so miserable.

  Eden entered sickbay to find B’Elanna Torres, Voyager’s former chief engineer. She’d read Torres’s file numerous times. A headstrong and passionate woman who tended to live in emotional extremes, she was an ingenious officer.

  B’Elanna stood watching with consternation as Doctor Sharak and the Doctor tended to the small, still figure who had to be Miral Paris. Clearing her throat slightly, Eden extended her hand. “Ms. Torres, or do you prefer Mrs. Paris?” she asked. “I’m Captain Afsarah Eden.”

  “‘B’Elanna’ is fine, Captain Eden,” B’Elanna replied tensely as she accepted Eden’s hand.

  “Was your daughter injured in the battle we just witnessed?”

  “No,” B’Elanna replied, shaking her head. “She’s been sick for two weeks. When we arrived in the Delta quadrant my ship was damaged. I contacted Neelix, an old friend—”

  “The Talaxian?” Eden interrupted.

  “Yes. His people helped me make repairs. But almost as soon as we arrived, Miral fell ill and they weren’t able to help her. If you hadn’t arrived when you did, I don’t know if she would have survived.”

  “Doctor Sharak,” Eden said, turning to her CMO. “What is your patient’s status?”

  Sharak was engrossed in his study of Miral’s readings. Without looking up he replied, “It appears that the child has been infected by a most hearty virus. She will recover.”

  “No thanks to her mother,” the Doctor said.

  “I beg your pardon, Doctor?” Eden asked as B’Elanna flushed with either anger or relief.

  The Doctor accepted a hypo from Nurse Bens and dispensed it gently into Miral’s limp arm. Then he turned to the captain and B’Elanna.

  “Miral was exposed to a simple Talaxian flu. Most children her age who are cleared for interstellar travel receive several vaccinations that Miral appears to have missed. If they are regularly exposed to a variety of species and those species’ respective germs, their immune system learns to fight off the simplest infections. Would I be correct in assuming,” he asked B’Elanna, “that you have kept Miral secluded over the last three years?”

  “Yes,” B’Elanna replied.

  The Doctor shook his head in frustration and continued, “By doing so you have inhibited the development of her immune system. Even in a preschool setting, where she would have interacted regularly with other children, Miral would have been exposed to common infectious agents. You kept her in a bubble and now her immune system is ill-equipped to fight off exotic pathogens like the one she encountered among the Talaxians.”

  “I was only—” B’Elanna began.

  “Captain,” the Doctor said, ignoring B’Elanna’s attempt at justification, “it is my opinion that at least for the next several months, this child should be seen regularly by a competent physician.”

  “I concur,” Sharak added from Miral’s bedside.

  Eden turned to B’Elanna, who was clearly taken aback both by the Doctor’s report, and the hostility with which it was delivered. “I spoke briefly with your husband and he indicated that all of you had planned to leave Voyager as soon as possible. Even before I heard the Doctor’s evaluation, I must admit, I thought that to be an incredibly foolhardy notion. Your service records indicate that you are both quite capable, but you know how dangerous this quadrant of space is. Are you willing to reconsider your plans, or are you going to force me to make this decision for all of you?”

  B’Elanna stood in shocked silence. She glanced at the Doctor with a mixture of sadness and reproach. “Please understand, we made the choices we did because we didn’t want to add our burdens to yours. The Warriors of Gre’thor should no longer be a threat, unless they learn Miral is still alive.”

  “With all the resources of Starfleet behind us, I’m sure we can sustain the illusion,” Eden assured her.

  “I’d be willing to accept any arrangement you would find appropriate, Captain.”

  “Welcome aboard,” Eden said with a tight smile.

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “If you’ll wait here, I’ll allow your husband a few minutes’ leave to see you.”

  Once the captain departed, B’Elanna turned back to the Doctor.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered softly.

  “I thought you were both dead.”

  “I know.”

  After a moment, his eyes began to glisten. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to find that I was misinformed.”

  B’Elanna didn’t know which of them moved first to close the space between them. Soon, however, she found herself in a tight embrace. After a moment, the Doctor released her and gestured with a nod for her to look over her shoulder where Tom stood in forlorn silence, staring at Miral.

  “What’s wrong with Miral?” he asked, clearly expecting the worst.

  “She’s going to be fine,” B’Elanna replied as she reached out a hand to pull him close. Tom took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. She then threw her arms around his neck, and for a few seconds, her universe was complete.

  The Doctor broke the spell. “I have to say I’m surprised by the disregard you have shown me and the rest of your friends, Commander Paris. I didn’t realize you had it in you.”

  “I never meant to hurt you or anyone,” Tom said honest
ly. “I only hope that you can understand why it was necessary and that in time you will be willing to forgive me.”

  “Oh, you’ll have plenty of time to make it up to me,” the Doctor smirked.

  Tom paused, confusion flashing in his eyes. Turning to B’Elanna he asked, “What’s he talking about?”

  B’Elanna felt a smile spreading across her face.

  “There’s been a slight change of plans,” she replied.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Chakotay found Seven in Voyager’s astrometrics lab, which she had helped design. Control panels embedded in the walls were linked to an interface station in the center of the room. Beyond a railing that bordered the station, a wide platform gave way to a large screen. Linked into Voyager’s sensors, it displayed detailed scans of surrounding space in minute detail.

  Seven appeared to be engaged in a sector by sector scan of the ship’s immediate area. He didn’t have to ask what she was looking for.

  “How did your session with Counselor Cambridge go this morning?” he asked cheerily as he stepped to her side at the central station.

  Without tearing her eyes from the screen she replied evenly, “The counselor is a difficult individual.”

  “He grows on you,” Chakotay assured her. “So does fungus,” Seven replied without missing a beat. “Is your combadge malfunctioning?” Chakotay asked gently.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “We’ve been asked to join the senior staff in the conference room. Didn’t you get the call?”

  Seven’s hands froze over the panel and her breath quickened. She tapped her combadge and it chirped as she opened a connection. She quickly tapped it again to close it.

  “I’ve been so focused on this task that I didn’t realize …”

  “It’s all right,” Chakotay said patiently. “I understand that you’re anxious to begin your search for the Caeliar. Perhaps your neural inhibitor is malfunctioning.”

  Seven nodded warily.

  “We’ll have the Doctor take a look at it again as soon as the meeting is over,” Chakotay suggested. “We shouldn’t keep Captain Eden waiting.”

  “No.”

  As they headed for the doors Seven asked, “Do you know what this meeting is about?”

  “I don’t,” Chakotay replied, though he was understandably curious. It would be the first senior staff meeting he had ever attended on board without any specific role to play.

  Get used to it, his better angels advised as they hurried through the halls toward the conference room.

  Paris stood alone in Eden’s ready room, shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously. After his brief reunion with B’Elanna and Miral he had returned to his quarters and awaited further instructions from the captain. He’d been surprised and relieved when they came only a few hours later. He was summoned to meet privately with her and his gut was winding its way into ever-tightening knots as he waited for her to arrive.

  The moment she did, he snapped to attention.

  “Lieutenant Commander Paris reporting as ordered, Captain.”

  Eden nodded briskly as she stood before him. He wondered if he might have just said those words for the last time in his career. Now that he knew B’Elanna had agreed to remain on Voyager for the foreseeable future, he realized he didn’t want to do so as an observer or a crewman. It was hard to imagine another fate, however, so he resolved himself to accept whatever was coming.

  “It appears that you and your family are going to remain on board,” Eden said briskly.

  “Yes, Captain, and I’d like to thank you for allowing it,” he said sincerely.

  “You’re welcome.”

  After a tense pause, Paris said, “I accept that you are going to reduce me in rank.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Paris replied forcefully. “I realize that my actions were unbecoming of your first officer.”

  “Unbecoming …?”

  Tom swallowed hard.

  “Permission to speak freely?” he asked.

  Eden nodded. “Granted.”

  “For better or for worse, Voyager gave me back my life. I became a good Starfleet officer and a better man serving her and her captain. I wanted to stay aboard but I couldn’t imagine a way to do that and keep my family safe.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me?” Eden asked.

  Paris suddenly realized that the idea had never crossed his mind. He was struck by how great the gulf was between them. He wouldn’t have hesitated to go to Captain Janeway or Captain Chakotay with such a problem. The disappointment in Eden’s face suggested she was well aware of this.

  “Are you telling me that if I had come to you, you would have helped us?” he asked.

  “You didn’t give me the chance,” Eden said honestly. “You talked about this ship and her captain. You have done a disservice to both of us. You’re my first officer. I need to trust you for the good of my ship and my crew.” After a long pause, she added, “That trust has been broken.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Eden said. “Earn it back.”

  Tom nodded intently. “I will. Thank you, Captain.”

  Since the days of wooden sailing ships there has been one constant: the fastest form of communication was scuttlebutt. Between the unexpected arrival of Seven of Nine and Chakotay and the morning’s battle to recover an unregistered Federation shuttle, the rumors were flying.

  Lieutenant Conlon reported to the conference room as ordered to find the captains, first officers, science officers, and chief engineers of Voyager, Hawking, and Galen assembling around the large triangular table. She’d heard that this room had been all but destroyed during the Borg Invasion and had been rebuilt to allow up to fifteen individuals to meet comfortably. As best as she could tell, the only ones missing were Commander Paris and Admiral Batiste.

  She had a quick question to run by Vorik, so she made her way to the side of the table where he stood waiting for Captain Bal Itak of the Hawking to finish his remarks. Itak actually looked old even for a Vulcan, which was remarkable. The slight stoop in Itak’s shoulders and his fine white hair suggested he might have recently seen his sesquicentennial.

  “… but all four are inhabited,” Itak finished as Conlon stood beside Vorik.

  “Fascinating,” Lieutenant Lern, Hawking’s science officer, noted. “Will the subspace instabilities you discovered inhibit our ability to safely approach the system?” she asked Vorik.

  “With proper modifications to the shields and deflectors, they should not,” Vorik replied.

  Conlon tugged as unobtrusively as possible on Vorik’s sleeve.

  “A moment, Lieutenant?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Vorik said, stepping away from the others.

  “What sort of deflector modifications are we talking about?” she asked.

  “Minimal. I will, of course, forward the specifications to you as soon as I have completed them.”

  “Thanks,” Conlon said with a nod. “I’m also curious to know whether or not you’ve completed your post-flight diagnostic of the slipstream drive and deflector components.”

  “No, Lieutenant. You would have received them, as you requested, had I done so.”

  “The thing is, we finished up ours just before I got the call for this meeting and apart from the microfractures …” she began, but was cut off by an announcement: “Admiral on deck.”

  She turned to see everyone else in the room standing at attention. Once the admiral had taken his seat, Conlon settled in beside Vorik, realizing that directly across from her were Voyager’s former captain, Chakotay, and a striking woman who had to be Seven of Nine.

  “Good afternoon,” Batiste said briskly. He hadn’t struck Conlon as a particularly warm man on the few occasions she’d heard him speak. Then again, most admirals weren’t. She secretly believed that good cheer and compassion were surgically removed prior to one’s promotion. What puzzled her was that he had on
ce been married to Captain Eden. In temperament and leadership style, they appeared to be polar opposites. Of course, Conlon preferred Eden’s way of doing things. She just wondered what had ever drawn them together.

  “We have a lot of ground to cover. Before we proceed, have we made any progress on the issue of sustaining or supplementing our benamite reserves?” the admiral asked flatly.

  Eden quickly replied, “Not yet, Admiral. Lieutenant Conlon has a team working on it.”

  “As does Lieutenant Vorik,” Captain Itak added softly with a nod to his chief engineer.

  “Lieutenant Benoit,” Commander Glenn said, offering her young chief an encouraging smile, “has had our Emergency Engineering Holograms running diagnostics and simulations for the past three days.”

  “We’re going to need a strategy sooner rather than later, people,” Batiste barked.

  “Understood, Admiral,” Eden said.

  “What benamite reserve problem?” Seven interjected.

  “Lieutenant Conlon?” Eden said, nodding for her to explain.

  Clearing her throat lightly, Conlon said, “During our first sustained slipstream flight from the Deneva system to the terminus of the Beta and Delta quadrants, the benamite crystals used suffered unexpected microfractures. If we cannot correct the problem—”

  “The fleet will be forced to return to the Alpha quadrant in three months rather than three years,” Seven finished for her.

  “Yes,” Conlon agreed.

  “We should begin long-range scans for alternate sources,” Seven suggested.

  “Already done,” Conlon advised her.

  Batiste turned to Eden and said, “Perhaps before we continue, Captain Eden, you should brief the others on the additions to Voyager’s personnel roster.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” she acknowledged politely. “I’m sorry to disappoint whomever had ‘Captain Chakotay has arrived to assume command of Voyager’ in the speculations pool,” she said lightly, “but as you can see,” she went on with a hint of a grin in response to Chakotay’s much wider smile, “Seven of Nine and Chakotay have joined the fleet. Seven was invited to participate in this mission before the fleet’s launch and I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that her joining us is appreciated. Seven will be assigned to a special project in Voyager’s astrometrics division for the time being and will also serve as an advisor to the fleet. For those of you who have been fortunate enough to serve with her in the past, I’m certain that you greet this news, as I did, with great enthusiasm. Chakotay has chosen to resign his commission from Starfleet but will also accompany the fleet in an advisory role to Seven. On behalf of all of us, I welcome both of them aboard.”