Chapter Text
The morning dawned and brought with it the unwelcome task of planning a memorial for those we’d lost. It was a miserable and depressing way to start the day, one that not even the pot of coffee I’d consumed could brighten. But the event could not be put off and arrangements needed to be made.
If you spend enough time in command, you will eventually need to preside over a funeral. It is simply the nature of the job, and I’d known that going in. But while I’d attended my share of memorials, this would be the first one I’d officiate.
It is not a task I wish on anyone.
Twenty-two.
Twenty-two crewmen who’d shipped out, who wouldn’t be coming home.
It was a sobering fact, and as I stared out at the passing stars through my ready room window, I hated that this is where they’d rest, these unfamiliar stars.
I sighed and rubbed my temple, trying to remember what is was Chakotay had said. “Do not let the spirit of the dead haunt the present.”
It was easier said than done.
My door chimed signaling the arrival of Mister Paris, whom I was expecting.
“Come in,” I called but didn’t move from my spot by the window.
“You asked to see me, Captain?”
“Mister Paris,” I said turning to face him. “You have a problem. Two, actually.”
“Oh?” He stood at ease in front of my desk, facing me, looking not worried, but curious and amused.
I bent to refill my coffee cup from the pot on the table. “I told you I served with your father,” I said, half statement, half question.
“Yes,” he said cautiously.
I set the pot back down and looked at him. “We’re still in touch.”
Owen Paris had been imprisoned with me. You don’t go through what we went through and not come out closer than kin.
Paris looked confused as to how my knowing his father might be a problem, so I elaborated as I carried my coffee back to my desk. “I know you, Mister Paris.”
“With all due respect, Captain, I hardly think knowing my father qualifies as knowing me.”
“Oh, so you didn’t spend half your days at the Academy in bed with your flavor of the week?” I asked with heavy sarcasm. I picked up the PADD that contained his Starfleet record and thumbed through it. “Three disciplinary actions for inappropriate conduct. Commandeering a shuttle craft. Unsanctioned flybys.” Then, just to throw him, I added, “Though I must say that front page photo of Admiral Nechayev spilling her coffee was quiet good.”
He smirked, no doubt recalling the incident with smug satisfaction. And I’ll admit, I’d nearly spit my own coffee the morning I saw the image. The Admiral had been attending some big-wig, beach-side brunch at a Mendocino resort situated on a picturesque bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Mister Paris, knowing she’d be there, had decided to take a detour on his way back to headquarters. The next morning, accompanying the headline “Starfleet Admiral caught unaware at state brunch” above the fold, was the large image of an open-mouthed Alynna Nechayev, coffee splashing onto her uniform, shockwaves obscuring the background of tilting champagne glasses and dignitaries holding onto their hats, the tail end of a shuttle craft just visible in the upper right corner. It was so perfect, I’d have thought that Paris had planed the whole thing, but apparently the photographer just got lucky. It was a civilian publication so Nechayev had no recourse against him (though word was that she’d tried), and Paris had been saved only by his name.
“Make no mistake, Mister Paris,” I said, my tone as threatening as I could make it. “Pull anything like that here, on my ship?” I tossed the PADD down onto desk. “You won’t make it back to New Zealand.”
He held my gaze, but I saw the way his body tightened and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with the force of his swallow.
“Are we clear?”
“Yes, ma’am. Crystal.”
“Good. Now on to the lesser of your two problems,” I said as I took my seat. “I’ve invited Chakotay and the other Maquis to become a part of this crew.”
“Are you sure that’s the lesser of my problems?” he asked.
“Yes, Mister Paris. Quite sure,” I said with menacing lightness.
“Will you provide a bodyguard for me?” The question was almost serious.
“It seems you already have one. Mister Chakotay said something about his life belonging to you.”
His momentary surprise morphed into something much more insidious. “I think I’m going to enjoy this,” he said with a sly smile, crossing his arms.
“Don’t be so sure,” I replied quickly. “He’s also going to be my first officer. Everyone on this ship will report to him. Including the lieutenant assigned to conn.”
He was silent for a moment, confused as to my meaning, before, finally, his arms fell to his sides, and his brow furrowed. “Me?”
“I’ve entered into the ship’s log, on this date, that I’m granting a field commission of Lieutenant, to Thomas Eugene Paris.” I stood and offered him my hand to shake, which he took slowly. “Congratulations,” I said with a smile.
His mouth opened and closed once before he finally got out, “For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say.”
I’d meant to surprise him, and not just to get back at him for his shameless flirting last month. Tom Paris had spent his whole life avoiding responsibility, and at some point, everyone who mattered to him quit expecting anything more. The one time he’d taken accountability for anything, he’d lost his commission, and after that, he’d quit trying. Chakotay thought Paris a risk, but someone needed to give him a chance to prove—to himself if to no one else—that he could be more than the sum of his father’s disappointments.
“You’ve earned this, Tom.” I released his hand and rounded my desk. “I’m only sorry your father won’t know.”
“Oh, he’ll know,” said Paris as we headed for the bridge.
I chuckled. “Take your station, Lieutenant Paris.” I gestured to the helm.
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
I returned his smile and made for my chair. Once I’d settled into the smooth leather, I glanced to my left where my new first officer sat, now looking every bit the Starfleet officer in command red. We had a long way to go in terms of distance and integration; an entire galaxy stood between us and our goal, a lifetime of travel. But I wasn’t willing to settle for that. I was not going to let this quadrant take up our lives. I knew that somewhere along the way, we’d find a short cut. This quadrant was untouched, uncharted by the Federation: who knew what mysteries it contained? I was confident that one of those mysteries would provide a way home. And if it didn’t? Well, we are explorers, after all.
“Lieutenant,” I said, turning to face the view screen, “set a course. For home.”