A hint of the cocky returned as Tom brought his forefinger to his nose, tapping it for emphasis. Sighing, Tom retraced his steps and slumped down beside Harry in the sand.
“When we started playing this game, we’d been lost in the Delta Quadrant for a few years and we’d seen a few tough times …” Tom reflected.
“I’d already died twice,” Harry reminded him.
“And had the exquisite pleasure of being eaten alive by that 8472 virus or whatever it was,” Tom added.
“Don’t.” Harry held up a hand to forestall any recounting of the grisly details of that story.
“But we still hadn’t really lost anything that mattered,” Tom went on.
“There was Kes,” Harry contradicted him. His heart broke a little as he remembered her soft, lovely face and deceptively sweet nature that belied an inner strength he’d never suspected when they’d first met the young Ocampan.
“My mistake,” Tom agreed. “But she evolved,” he added, “which made it a win for her, if not for us.”
“True.”
“Point is—” Tom began again.
“I get it,” Harry cut him off.
I really get it. And though it did not bring him the joy he was seeking, it did diminish the unpleasant burning he’d felt for so long in the center of his chest.
Tom’s eyes met his, and Harry was finally able to see the hell of the last few years through someone else’s eyes. It had begun for Tom with the near loss of his daughter, followed by the untimely death of Admiral Janeway. Too soon after, the Borg had claimed his father, Admiral Owen Paris, and almost half of Voyager’s crew. Something raw and wounded had long ago replaced the careless selfishness that had once defined Tom Paris, and Harry, who had always thought of himself as a true friend, hadn’t even noticed. Harry had suffered his own losses, but at the end of the day, they didn’t begin to stack up to Tom’s. Ashamed, Harry realized what a complete and utter ass he’d been of late.
The first comfortable silence the two had shared in much too long settled between them.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” Harry finally said softly.
“You don’t have to be,” Tom replied. “It killed me to lie to you. I hated every minute of it. But I convinced myself I had no choice and that you’d understand. I didn’t stop and think about how you had to be suffering. I thought of myself first. And the truth is you deserved better than that.”
“But you’ve always been so good at putting yourself first,” Harry teased, adding, “Unnamed Slave Number One.”
A gentle shake of Tom’s head acknowledged that he was guilty as charged.
A new and even more troubling thought now rose to Harry’s mind.
“You don’t suppose this is what getting old feels like, do you?”
Tom feigned shock. “I don’t know, Harry. If I ever decide to get old, I’ll let you know.”
“Right,” Harry agreed.
“So what do you say we storm that drain together and let the chips fall where they may?” Tom asked.
A faint spark of mischief glinted to life in Harry’s eyes.
“I have a better idea.” Harry smiled.
Tom was clearly intrigued. “Tell me.”
“Do you remember the time …” Harry began.
Captain Chakotay had resumed command of Voyager only two days earlier, but already it had begun to feel as if he’d never been away. There were plenty of new names and faces to commit to memory, and the retrofit that had prepared the ship for its current mission to the Delta Quadrant had taken some getting used to, but on the whole, he felt more at home than he had in years. The irony that he had spent his first seven years aboard this ship trying desperately to reach what he’d always thought of as “home,” the Alpha Quadrant, was not lost on him.
A soft “Enter” came from the other side of the door, and he stepped inside one of the few rooms aboard his ship he hadn’t yet had a chance to see: Fleet Commander Captain Afsarah Eden’s personal quarters. He was more than a little shocked by what he saw.
The specs Chakotay had been reviewing since he’d returned to active duty had already told him that the cabin was roughly half the size of the ship’s mess hall, which could accommodate up to fifty in relative comfort. But he still hadn’t been prepared for the size of it. The thought that so much room would have been set aside for any single person aboard a starship was, quite frankly, disturbing. He knew the quarters had been designed for the personal use of the fleet’s original commanding officer, Admiral Willem Batiste. But he also knew that Batiste had only joined the fleet’s mission to facilitate his return to his true home. It was still chilling to imagine that a member of Species 8472 had infiltrated the upper echelons of Starfleet Command. He had successfully replaced a highly decorated admiral without anyone knowing the difference until he had led a fleet of ships to the Delta Quadrant and opened a rift to fluidic space, almost killing himself and destroying Voyager in the process. Chakotay was still relieved that the creature he had once known as Valerie Archer had been dispatched to deal with the crisis from her people’s end, and had believed that the encroachment upon her space was the action of one of their own rather than the opening salvo in a Federation attack. Still, Chakotay found it hard to understand why the admiral’s personal quarters should have been so vast.
Maybe he thought he’d be with the fleet a little longer, Chakotay mused, and that an office where you could land a shuttle would come in handy.
“Obnoxious, isn’t it?” Eden acknowledged.
Chakotay didn’t remember anything in Eden’s file about her being telepathic, but she probably didn’t have to be to read his thoughts at this moment.
“It’s definitely …”
“Ridiculous,” Eden finished for him, rising from behind the large carved mahogany desk embedded with standard data and control panels. Her lithe figure perched with feline grace on the corner as she crossed her long arms over her chest. “There’s actually a putting green in the bedroom.”
“You’re lying,” Chakotay replied, stunned.
“Not according to the poor ensign who’s been assigned to remove it,” Eden assured him.
Chakotay recognized the painting behind her desk, a swirling mass of vivid, impressionistic, heavy impasto strokes in reds, oranges, and blues, as well as a bronze sculpture of a cat balancing its forepaws on a ball on the credenza. They had recently occupied what was now his ready room. That office, along with Voyager’s command, had been Eden’s only a few weeks earlier when this mission had begun.
“What can I say?” Eden went on, clearly a little embarrassed. “Willem did everything big.”
“You would know better than I,” Chakotay replied. Several years before this mission had begun, Eden had been married to Batiste. He imagined she was still reeling from the revelation that Batiste had been sent to spy on the Federation and only married her as part of his cover. But her placid aquiline features and almond-shaped obsidian eyes revealed only a hint of regret.
“I’m actually thinking about reallocating the space until our next refit, when it will be completely demolished,” Eden admitted. “The ’fresher could come in handy as an extra cargo bay.”
Chakotay paused for a moment. He appreciated her efforts to make light of the situation, but he worried that the defenses she was erecting might keep her at an unhealthy distance from those she was now responsible for leading. Finally, he decided to take a chance.
“You don’t have to apologize for him, Captain,” he said seriously. “You’re not responsible for his choices.”
“Right.” She nodded. “I only married him, lived with him for years, and somehow managed to miss the fact that he wasn’t even human.”
“If I hadn’t known better, I would have believed I was in San Francisco when we boarded the 8472 simulation they built here a few years ago,” Chakotay sympathized. “Their technology, especially their genetic manipulation abilities, were beyond anything I would have thought possible. Not to mention the fact t
hat half the crew of the Maquis vessel I used to command was working for other people.”
Eden smiled lightly. “So we’ve both got blind spots bigger than these quarters? Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?”
“I don’t know,” Chakotay replied. “At least things no longer surprise me like they used to.”
“You just expect the worst of everyone you meet?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I wait a little longer before I give anyone my complete trust.”
“Noted.”
Chakotay wasn’t sure if they had just begun to bridge the distance between them, or unintentionally made it greater.
“You have a report for me?” Eden asked, returning to business.
“We rendezvoused with Esquiline, Curie, and Achilles,” he replied. “We’re still waiting on Quirinal, Planck, and Demeter.”
Eden’s brow furrowed. “Have we received any word from Captain Farkas?”
“Not yet.”
“I want to know the moment they return,” Eden said. Chakotay knew that Captain Farkas and Quirinal had been dispatched along with Planck and Demeter to investigate an extremely dangerous species, but he had to assume they were up to the task.
“I’m sure they’re fine, Captain,” Chakotay attempted to reassure her. “If they’re en route, as they should be by now, they wouldn’t be able to send a signal from within the slipstream corridor.” It troubled him that he kept wanting to address her by something other than her rank, but “Afsarah” or “Eden” felt awkward, like a room he had not yet been invited to enter.
“Have Commander Paris and Lieutenant Kim concluded their temporary medical leave and returned to duty?” Eden asked.
“No, ma’am,” Chakotay replied with a slight grin.
Eden seemed genuinely surprised. “Have you received a report from Counselor Cambridge as to their progress?”
Chakotay nodded. “I have. And I see no reason to end their session until the counselor is certain their issues have been resolved.”
Although Eden shot him a wary smile, she did not press the matter further.
“In the meantime,” he continued, “we’ve got a visitor who is requesting a few minutes of your time.”
“Who?” she asked.
Chakotay smirked. “An old friend.”
Eden’s eyebrows rose to meet the challenge.
“By all means,” she said, dropping her arms and rising to straighten her uniform jacket.
“He’s waiting in the conference room.”
As they headed together for the door, Eden added softly, “You were worried I didn’t have room to receive him here?”
“I didn’t want to take the liberty of assuming you were available,” Chakotay replied.
Eden nodded appreciatively. “Also noted.”
As Eden entered the conference room and came face-to-face with Neelix, she decided that the presence she had first come to know through visual files was an accurate if pale representation.
She didn’t actually know Chakotay’s “old friend,” but as with most of Voyager’s original crew, she felt as if she did. Prior to this assignment she’d headed up Project Full Circle, the Starfleet task force that had reviewed all of the mission logs of Voyager’s seven-year journey in the Delta Quadrant. Neelix’s logs had been among the most descriptive and oddly personal. It was as if he was constitutionally incapable of hiding his feelings about anything, or anyone.
The slightly portly Talaxian stood almost as high as Eden’s shoulders, but the sheer force of his personality belied his stature. Wisps of sand-colored hair shot out from his mottled head, and though the texture of his skin appeared roughly worn, the hands that took the one she extended to him were both soft and warm. Golden eyes fairly danced with genuine delight as he greeted her, saying, “A pleasure to meet you, Captain Eden. I’m Neelix of New Talax, the Federation’s first ambassador to the Delta Quadrant, and if I or my people can ever be of service to you or the fleet, we would consider it an honor.”
“The honor would be ours, Mister Ambassador,” Eden replied, speaking the absolute truth.
Chakotay stood a few paces behind Neelix, radiating a sense of tranquil happiness. It was understandable. The captain had probably never thought he’d see Neelix again in person, and in his place, Eden felt sure she’d take such an unexpected reunion for the gift of fate that it was.
“You’re a long way from home, Mister …”
“Please, call me Neelix,” the Talaxian insisted.
“Neelix,” Eden finished with a smile.
“Not really,” he corrected her gently. “Our asteroid colony is only a little over two days from here at high warp. And it was a journey well worth making. I come bearing strange gifts,” he added mysteriously.
Eden shot a glance toward Chakotay, who had clearly already heard this part of Neelix’s story, then nodded for their guest to continue.
“Are you by any chance missing one of your shuttles, Captain?”
“We are,” Eden replied, instantly concerned for Neelix. The shuttle had been stolen by an entity Eden believed to be extremely dangerous. If she had attacked his people …
“A few weeks after B’Elanna visited our colony, our long-range sensors picked up another Federation signal,” Neelix began. “Naturally, once she had advised me of the Federation’s return to the quadrant, I had our systems realigned to maximize our ability to pick up any such signals.”
“Naturally,” Eden said, unable to believe how touched she was by this simple gesture. She should have expected no less of him, she chided herself.
“Our scouts retrieved the abandoned shuttle, and I have brought it to you today.”
Although Eden understood that this would have been his natural inclination, she also marveled at the ease with which he seemed to have come to this conclusion. For people such as his, struggling to eke out an existence in an asteroid field, the shuttle’s technology would have come in more than handy.
“I’m deeply grateful,” Eden acknowledged sincerely. “Was it abandoned?”
“It was,” Neelix replied, bringing a sigh of relief from Eden. “As it was pretty beat-up, I did take the liberty of reviewing the shuttle’s logs before I left New Talax. Apparently it had been under the command of a Starfleet medical tech named Meegan McDonnell.”
Eden again looked to Chakotay. A shake of his head assured her that he had not briefed Neelix as to the significance of this discovery.
“Are the logs intact?” Eden asked.
Neelix appeared a little flustered. “Actually, they were … well … it looked as if they were intentionally damaged,” he said, unsure of the ground upon which he was now treading. “I was able to restore most of them, however. You don’t survive as long as I have without learning a few tricks,” he added with a hint of self-deprecation. “It appears that shortly after Miss McDonnell neared our borders, she encountered one of Nacona’s mining vessels. I don’t know if I mentioned this to you, Chakotay, but his operators have returned to the asteroid field and we’ve actually established a fairly lucrative trade agreement.”
“I’m not at all surprised,” Chakotay replied.
Neelix reddened a little at the compliment as he pressed on. “It appears that some weapons fire was exchanged between the two vessels and then McDonnell abandoned the shuttle and … well … actually stole the mining ship.”
“Have you or this Nacona picked up any trace of the stolen mining vessel?” Eden asked.
“No,” Neelix replied. “But our search continues.”
Chakotay’s deep brown eyes were practically boring holes into hers when she raised them to verify her next inclination. She would be well within her rights to simply thank Neelix at this point and send him on his way. She doubted seriously that Meegan would ever darken New Talax’s door again, but a few words of warning should insure his people’s safety. However, Chakotay’s gaze seemed to insist that Neelix deserved more than this, and she had to admit, he had a point. Nee
lix was a true ally in the Delta Quadrant, and he had been named a Federation ambassador by Captain Kathryn Janeway. It was true that no one other than Janeway had ever taken his appointment seriously, but the unconditional trust he had already demonstrated should be repaid in kind.
“A few weeks ago, we encountered a collection of species known as the Indign,” Eden began.
“Hmm,” Neelix said, as his eyes searched the ceiling briefly. “Never heard of them.”
“Lucky for you,” Chakotay said softly.
“Are they hostile?” Neelix asked seriously.
“Not overly,” Eden assessed. “They had an unusual reverence for the Borg, which had led them in the past to some rather unpleasant actions.”
“Impossible,” Neelix stammered.
“We thought so, too,” Chakotay agreed.
“One of the Indign species, the Neyser, had developed a means of trapping the consciousnesses of several individuals who had become enemies of their own people. There were eight, and one of them was accidentally transferred into Meegan.”
“Oh, dear” was all Neelix could say.
“It gets worse,” Chakotay interjected.
“Doesn’t it always,” Neelix said, turning to him with a knowing glance. It was the first hint of worldliness Eden had seen from him.
“Meegan was actually an incredibly advanced hologram,” she went on. “The consciousness that now possesses her should be considered hostile and extremely dangerous. We intend to continue our search for her, but should you pick up even a trace of her trail, I would advise you to contact us immediately but to refrain from pursuing her.”
“A wise precaution, Captain,” Neelix agreed.
“Please, call me Afsarah,” Eden offered, returning his simple courtesy.
“Afsarah,” Neelix repeated with genuine warmth.
“Would it be possible for you to spend a little more time with us, Neelix?” Chakotay asked, discomfited for reasons Eden could not place.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Neelix replied with a wide grin. “I’d love to check in on B’Elanna and Miral. I assume Miral has recovered?” he asked with a little more concern.
Star Trek: Voyager: Children of the Storm Page 2
