Trials 04 Shadow's Trial

by Terri Zavaleta

ducked his head in embarrassment.

  "Our scout could look for food, since our captors haven't thought of

  it," Megan teased, patting Sven's stomach, then her own. "Lots of

  food."

  "And water," Lamont added, pressing the back of her hand to Ethan's

  forehead once more. He still felt feverish and dehydrated to her

  touch. "Ethan needs water now and the rest of us will be needing it

  soon."

  "I could use some right now myself," Megan complained, licking parched

  lips.

  Paris tugged on his ear and began pacing in figure eights in the small

  floor space available to him. "That is something to consider. We have

  no idea if or when our captors will get around to taking care of our

  basic needs. We all know that Voyager is looking for us, and Captain

  Janeway doesn't give up easily, but we don't know how long we may be

  here."

  Haldersen raised a hand and waited till Paris nodded before offering,

  "I just realized that there might be another benefit to an escape

  attempt. The aliens might interpret it as a sign of sentience. Of

  course, since we don't know how they measure---"

  Paris nodded once, sharply. "All right. We seem to have come to an

  agreement. We do need to send someone to reconnoiter. But I think it

  should be me." His eyes fell on Shadow. She had always deferred to him

  in the past. He wasn't really expecting an argument. But from her

  expression, it looked like he was going to get one.

  The other four figuratively and literally stepped back. This seemed to

  be a 'family matter'. As a rule, outsiders trying to interfere would

  just catch trouble from both sides.

  Striving for a reasonable, rational approach, Shadow forced her voice

  to remain level and emotionless as she stared up at him. "Tom, that

  wall is only about four inches thick. It will take a very good sense

  of balance to walk along it. Ethan and Megan are injured. Janine and

  Sven are in good shape but don't have any training for this kind of

  physical activity. So. It comes down to the two of us."

  She got to her feet and stood in front of him, meeting his eyes

  squarely. "I walked the high wire in the circus off and on from the

  time I was four. As part of my regular daily exercise program, I still

  practice on a balance beam. While you do have some experience on the

  trapeze, you don't have any experience at all in walking a tight rope.

  In addition to that, you're not well."

  His jaw clenched as his face set in stubborn lines of resistance.

  "Malista, I have good coordination. I'm in good physical condition..."

  "Not right now, you aren't. Tom, did you ever wonder why I chose Harry

  to be the catcher in our trapeze act and why I never would let you do

  it?"

  "What has that got to do with anything?" he protested, bewildered by

  the apparent non sequitur.

  "Harry is a steady, careful man. He isn't a thrill seeker. He's just

  as happy being a catcher as he would be as a flyer. He doesn't have

  that drive, that NEED to be the one taking the risks," Malista

  declared. "You do. I do. I have to fly. I can be a catcher for a short

  time, but all the time I'll miss the flying. The soaring, the danger,

  the thrill of doing something others find difficult or impossible."

  "What does any of that have to do with this decision?" Paris had an

  inkling where this was heading, but he was going to force her to say

  it. To his face.

  "I knew Harry could take the responsibility of being the catcher. He's

  a detail person. He checks the equipment himself and watches out for

  everyone else and he does everything he can to make sure he's ready to

  do his job. He thrives on having people depend on him. Lending support

  so others can fly is just another way of letting Harry shine at what

  he does best. I didn't ask you to be the catcher because I knew..."

  She paused, hesitated, her eyes darting to the others as if not sure

  she should continue. Tom nodded, giving her the go ahead. "I knew you

  wouldn't want to be responsible for the safety of the flyers."

  "I can take responsibility," he stated deliberately, daring her to

  contradict him.

  Her lips trembled as she tried a weak smile. It would be so much

  easier to just drop the subject right now. To let him have his way.

  She didn't want to hurt him, but she didn't see any way to make her

  point that didn't involve pain for him. For both of them. But this was

  too important to just surrender and retreat, even to win or keep his

  approval.

  "I know you can. If you have to. But if you don't have to, when the

  choice is yours, then you avoid it." She hoped he would accept that

  statement and leave it at that.

  He did not.

  His smart ass facade dropped back in place with the ease of long

  practice. He crossed his arms loosely, his posture loosened. This was

  the Tom Paris who'd first come aboard Voyager---defensive, smirking,

  pretending to cool indifference to everyone's opinion---shutting

  everyone out, not allowing anyone to get close enough to hurt him.

  That Tom Paris had never made an appearance to Shadow before. She was

  surprised how much it hurt to see him turning that cool, derisive grin

  on her.

  "Come on, Crewman Shadow," Paris drawled, using the formality to drive

  a wedge between them, an attempt to make it seem the discussion was a

  professional disagreement. Nothing personal. "Let's get to the point.

  Regardless of what you may have *heard*, I am not a coward. I have

  accepted the responsibility for the safety and welfare of our away

  team. I'm not going to hide here and send you out to do something that

  I can do myself. I'm the Senior Officer here. I outrank you---and

  everyone else in this room. And as the commanding officer of this away

  team, I've decided that I will be the one to try an escape."

  Malista stiffened her resolve and threw back her shoulders as she

  stared into his emotionally shuttered eyes. "You want to go yourself,

  not because you're the best qualified, or the one with the best chance

  of success, but for selfish reasons. Do you really want me to

  elaborate, *Lieutenant*?" Her eyes darted to the side, to indicate the

  other four who were listening and watching every nuance of the

  exchange between the two whose 'family relationship' was approaching

  the verge of collapse.

  The muscle jumping in his jaw was the only indication of tension in

  the loose-limbed, carelessly graceful posture of the pilot. One hand

  waved carelessly in the direction of their audience. "Go ahead. Say

  what you like. Voyager is a small ship, as you know. Nothing remains a

  secret for long. This concerns all of us. You think I have some kind

  of a hidden agenda here? Or are you accusing me of being on some kind

  of power trip?"

  "You'd rather risk your own life than be responsible for sending

  someone else into danger."

  The blunt, honest, hurtful words were flung out into the open and lay

  there in the utter silence like a gauntlet hurled to the ground at his

  feet.

  Silence reigned. It almost seemed as if no
one dared to breathe as

  they waited for Tom Paris to respond to Malista's accusation.

  Pain-filled green eyes met pain-filled blue eyes. Neither spoke.

  At last, Malista broke away from the confrontation by lowering her

  gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry, T-T-Lieutenant," she mumbled. "I

  shouldn't have said that. You're right. It is your decision..." She

  wrapped her arms around herself, her face crumpling as she fought off

  the encroaching tears. She took two steps back and stood there wishing

  fervently for the gift of invisibility. Or for the ability to travel

  back in time and stop this before it ever started. She dropped her

  head, unable to face him, overwhelmed by a sense of guilt for her

  betrayal of his trust.

  Paris stood rigidly frozen in place, expressionless, as he tried to

  absorb the blow and deal with the consequences. He looked at the other

  four. "Anyone else want to comment?" he said dryly, his tone edged in

  bitterness.

  Not one of them would meet his eyes. They looked at each other, the

  walls, the floor... anywhere but at him. Janine made a move towards

  Malista, but Ethan restrained her and shook his head. Megan and Sven

  exchanged glances. Megan rested her forehead on Sven's chest, and

  cradled her injured arm between them, seeking warmth and aching with

  compassion for her friend---for both her friends.

  Eyes closed, Lt. Thomas Eugene Paris wrestled with his demons in a

  mute match that lasted only moments, though it felt like hours to him.

  In that short space of time, he thought of every Starfleet regulation

  or protocol, every slick argument, every reply, every rationale, that

  he could offer to refute Shadow's simple statement.

  Every lie he could tell himself---so he wouldn't have to confront the

  truth.

  So he wouldn't have to admit that she was right.

  Maybe he wasn't a coward in the traditional sense of the word. But in

  this instance, he was. He *was* a coward. He would rather take his own

  chances with injury or death than to have to live with the possible

  consequences of assigning someone else to do the exact same thing.

  Especially if the someone was the friend he called his little sister.

  Or B'Elanna. Or Harry. Or Janeway. Or Chakotay....

  As the list grew longer, Paris threw on the emergency brake and halted

  his train of thought. 'Hell, Tom,' he thought. 'Why don't you just own

  up to it? You could live the rest of your life quite happily if you

  were never in command again. Of an away team or of the ship. You don't

  want to be responsible for *anyone* else getting hurt. Not after

  Caldik Prime. Not after Pete Durst.'

  He opened his eyes and found Malista Shadow, still hunched into

  herself, head bowed as if baring her neck for an executioner's ax. And

  he was the one she was expecting to pass judgment and carry out the

  sentence.

  She stood alone and isolated from the others by her own choice. She

  hadn't tried to enlist support from the other members of the team. She

  would see that as disloyalty to him. She wouldn't try to undermine

  Paris' authority. She'd appealed to his reason instead.

  And he'd figuratively slapped her down and rejected her---as if her

  opinion had no value. Or worse, as if she had no right to offer an

  opinion in the first place. He'd treated her exactly the same way

  she'd been treated her whole life. By her family. And by Niko Dishon.

  He'd expended a great deal of time, energy, and heartache in trying to

  build up that young woman's self-esteem and self-confidence. She'd

  trusted him and needed him and helped him in ways no one else ever

  had.

  And now, when she finally had the courage to stand up for what she

  believed, in an effort to help him and the rest of their team, to

  stand up and defy HIM, one of the most important people in her

  life---Was he really willing to negate all that?

  To tell her that she had misjudged him? That she didn't understand him

  as well as she thought she did? That she actually WASN'T the best

  qualified for the possibly dangerous assignment?

  Was he so worried about facing his own fears that he would let them

  defeat him? Or was it that he was too worried about what the others

  would think of him? Couldn't he admit it when he was wrong? Couldn't

  he admit his weakness and need for help? Couldn't he back down from an

  untenable position without regard for his own pride? Couldn't he

  apologize when he knew he was wrong? A spark of recognition flamed up

  in his mind and seared him to his very soul.

  'Oh, God!' he thought. 'In spite of myself, have I become my father?'

  He shuddered.

  And took a step forward. Then another. And another. Until he was

  standing directly in front of Malista Shadow with no more than a few

  inches separating their bodies. She stiffened at his approach but

  didn't move, either away or towards him.

  He wouldn't touch her without her permission. He'd forfeited that

  right, that privilege, when he'd shoved her away by calling her

  'Crewman Shadow' in that disgustingly distant manner.

  "Malista?" His voice sounded rusty, as if from disuse, but the tone

  said this wasn't a reprimand.

  As if her head was almost too heavy for her neck to bear its weight,

  she gradually lifted her chin to fix her gaze on his chest. Then,

  slowly, her green eyes cautiously, warily slid up to his face.

  He winced as he read the fear in them. Fear of being ridiculed? Fear

  of being belittled? Fear of rejection?

  Fear of him.

  He felt about half an inch tall at that moment, but the next move was

  most definitely his. He cleared his throat. "You're right."

  He met her eyes, trying to let his regret show, making an effort to

  let go of his mask. He hadn't dared to hope for the immediate

  forgiveness that lit the green eyes as her lips widened in a soft

  smile. She shouldn't make it this easy on him. But he'd discuss that

  with her in more detail later. When they got back to Voyager.

  "I'm sorry, Malista. You're right. I am taking this personally. And

  that's not what a commanding officer is supposed to do." He

  encompassed the others with a swift look. "She's right. I hate the

  idea of letting someone else run the risk, but Malista is the best

  qualified. As Milton said, 'They also serve who only stand and wait',"

  he quoted. "I guess that will be our part of this mission. So let's

  decide how we're going to do this."

  All six drew closer together, relieved at the easing of the tension

  between Paris and Shadow and glad to have some kind of goal to work

  toward. The idleness of captivity was quickly becoming boring as well

  as stressful.

  Without looking directly at him, Malista unobtrusively slipped her

  hand into Tom's and curled her fingers shyly around his. Swallowing

  hard and gazing steadily at the Security Officer, her 'brother'

  tightened his grasp comfortingly. Apology accepted.

  Ethan Simms had been studying the problem since Malista had mentioned

  the possibility of going over the wall. Or rather onto the wall. "Has

  it occurred to a
nyone else that the empty space we're seeing between

  the dome overhead and the top of the wall just might not be so empty?"

  "What do you mean?" Sven asked.

  "I've been thinking that there might be an energy field, some kind of

  force field there," the young man ruminated. "We should test for that

  before Malista tries to climb on top of the wall."

  "Good idea, Ethan. Before Malista makes this attempt, we're going to

  take every precaution. Now what else do we need to plan for?" The

  lieutenant asked, calling the meeting to order as his troops settled

  back into sitting positions on the bed.

  ***************

  All attempts to communicate had been ignored. It was impossible to

  tell if the message had been received at all. If the hails had been

  received, they were being ignored.

  Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres were trying every possible method to get

  the sensors to punch through the interference that kept them from

  scanning inside the domed city on the planet below.

  Another try. Another failure. The ensign plunged the fingers of both

  hands into his thick, inky hair and tugged at it. "Argh. Nothing is

  working!" The exasperated exclamation was carefully contained. Harry

  didn't want to chance drawing the captain's attention again. She might

  try to relieve him of duty. "How long has it been?"

  Only B'Elanna Torres heard him. She shared his feelings. "Stop

  clock-watching, Starfleet. Now we've got to figure out why we can't

  get a reading. There are no thoron particles in the atmosphere. We're

  not reading any other materials that are interfering with the