Chapter Text
March 29, 2379 – USS Houston
Ensigns Yoba Wizdo and Ziwa Endine were seated in a far corner of the Houston’s mess hall, a few meters away from the entrance. Alpha shift had just ended, and most of the Alpha crew had crowded into the Galaxy Class ship’s mess hall to watch the Federation News Network on the viewscreen. Today, the Supreme Court of the Federation was supposed to rule on the fate of the ex-Maquis officers who’d served aboard the USS Voyager during its seven-year trip through the Delta Quadrant – either uphold or overturn the prison sentences handed down by the Court of Starfleet. Everyone in Starfleet was emotionally invested in the outcome, but as Bajorans, Wizdo and Endine had a much more favorable view of the Maquis than the Houston’s senior staff. Spending half of one’s childhood starved and oppressed tended to make one appreciate any group fighting the Cardassians, regardless of that group’s methods.
The mess hall had been buzzing, but then a voice from the front called out, “Everybody quiet down! The verdict is in!”
The teeming crowd fell silent.
On the viewscreen, Chief Justice T’Pek began to read, “In the case of Starfleet vs Maquis Crewmen of the USS Voyager, Captain Kathryn Janeway, et al., this court rules, by a decision of 5 to 4, to uphold the decision of the lower court.”
A mighty roar, half jubilance and half fury, erupted from the assembled crew. A cadre of senior officers at the bar, led by Commander Schrute, cheered, whistled, and high-fived. Most of the junior officers regarded the screen with varying degrees of outrage and sorrow. The two young Bajorans sat in appalled silence as Chief Justice T’Pek continued enumerating the Maquis’ sentences.
A moment later, Lieutenant Harry Kim, the Chief of Operations, walked into the mess hall. He cast a furtive glance over at the bar, and quickly looked away when he saw First Officer Schrute toasting and fist-bumping with the other officers in command red. Wizdo stage-whispered to Harry, and with a grateful smile, the lieutenant made his way over.
“Hi Wizdo. Ensign,” he nodded to both of them as he slid into an empty seat at their table.
“Lieutenant Kim,” Wizdo replied formally.
“At ease,” he said in a low voice. “What’s going on?”
Wizdo tilted his head towards the viewscreen. “The Federation News Network just announced it, sir. The Supreme Court upheld the sentences for Voyager’s Maquis.”
Harry gaped in shock. “What? All of them?”
He nodded solemnly. “Yes. The first officer and the chief engineer, they get credit for their years in the DQ plus the last year they’ve been incarcerated… but they’ll still be in New Zealand until 2396.”
“And the others?” Harry gulped.
“Anywhere from one to ten years. I’m so sorry, sir,” Wizdo murmured.
“Shit,” Harry hissed through gritted teeth. Wizdo would remember it later as the only time he ever heard the lieutenant curse. Harry shot a poisonous glare over at the celebrating officers, who already looked like they were itching for a fight with some of the pro-Maquis crewmembers.
Schrute’s cheerful voice rose above the din. “Hey guys, what’s the difference between a Maquis and gagh?” He paused and then crowed, “Gagh is better alive!”
The redshirts at the bar all laughed; if looks could kill, half the younger officers would be in the brig for murder.
The lieutenant’s jaw clenched tighter and he said in a clipped tone, “Thanks for telling me, Ensign. I’d better get out of here.” With that, he stalked out of the mess hall.
Erdine gave Wizdo a stunned look and asked incredulously, “What was that all about?”
He regarded her with surprise. “Didn’t you hear? Lieutenant Kim was on Voyager.”
Her friend might as well have said that Kim served under Captain James T. Kirk. “Wait, he’s that Harry Kim?”
Wizdo nodded in slow motion. “Yep. He told me about it back in December when we were working in the Jeffries tubes. After a few months in the DQ, they kind of stopped caring about who was Maquis and who was Starfleet. The Maquis were all friends of his; one of them even married his best friend and he’s the godfather to their kid. He said that it was such a small ship and they were gone for so long, they all think of themselves as a family, not a crew.”
Endine murmured, “So what do you suppose he’s going to do?”
Wizdo shook his head. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t want to get in his way.”
Harry requested an assignment back on Earth that very night. Citing too many years in space and a desire to be closer to his family, no one questioned him about it. Within forty-eight hours, the request was approved, and he found himself on a shuttle heading back to Earth.
The Fleet gave him a week of leave between assignments, and so, after assuring his parents that he’d be staying with them when his new assignment began, he beamed directly to San Francisco. Walking up to Tom and B’Elanna’s place, he could see that none of the lights were on, but that didn’t mean anything. Tom had the tendency to hide from the world when he was feeling low, and Harry couldn’t imagine anything lower than being told the woman you love will be in prison for the next two decades, leaving you a single parent to a daughter who will never know her mother.
Harry knocked on the door. “Paris! It’s me! Open up!”
Silence.
Harry hollered, “Come on, Paris, I know you’re in there! I’ll stay here all night if I have to!”
A light snapped on and Tom flung open the door. He looked rough, with several weeks’ worth of stubble, unwashed hair sticking up at odd angles, and puffy, bloodshot eyes. Tom barked, “Fine, come in! Just quit shouting before the neighbors complain.”
Harry trudged in, but before he could get a word out, Tom demanded, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” Harry said softly. “Where’s Miral?”
“At my folks’ house,” Tom grumbled. “Evidently I’m an unfit parent on top of everything else.”
“No, you’re not,” Harry replied calmly. “They probably just wanted to give you a break.”
Tom grunted something unintelligible and then sprawled on the couch while Harry took a seat in an adjoining recliner. The apartment was a disaster; dirty dishes overfilling the sink, toys scattered everywhere, cobwebs in the corners, laundry piling up. Tom had never been one for neatness, but this was another level of squalor, even for him.
“I suppose you’re here to tell me how I should just get over it and move on,” Tom groused, staring at the ceiling.
Harry was infuriated by the suggestion. “What?!? No! Why the hell would I do that?”
Tom shrugged. “That’s what my family thinks I should do.”
“Well, fuck them!” Harry declared. He waited for Tom to tease him about his choice of vocabulary, but Tom didn’t. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling in a thousand-yard stare. Shit. This is even worse than I thought.
Tom snarled, “Why are you really here, Harry? You come in here in your Starfleet uniform, with your Starfleet issue bag, shiny new pip, looking like the model officer I never was-“
Harry cut him off. “Dammit, Tom! I’m here because you’re my best friend and I’m worried about you! And as for the uniform, I didn’t have time to change before I left the Houston. But I’ll go do it now if it makes you feel any better.”
Tom gave a curt nod, and Harry hauled his bag into the main bedroom, emerging a few minutes later in civilian clothes. He returned to his seat on the recliner and said, “Better?”
“I guess.”
“I’m so sorry, Tom,” Harry murmured. “B’Elanna didn’t deserve that. None of them did.”
Still staring at the ceiling, Tom huffed, “Damn straight.”
After an awkward pause, Harry said, “I, um… I’ve been reassigned. Back to Earth.”
Tom snorted, “Tainted by the Maquis, huh?”
“No, I asked to come back. I told Starfleet it was because I wanted to be closer to my folks… but really it’s because I’m looking for a way out.”
Tom sat upright and turned to meet Harry’s eyes. “Out?”
In a small voice, Harry continued, “Out of Starfleet. After what they did to the family, I can’t be a part of this anymore. I just need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do instead… and find a way to explain it to my folks.”
Tom gaped at him. “You’re really going to leave Starfleet?”
“Yes.”
Tom studied him for a long moment, and then, in a voice Harry hadn’t heard since Akritiri, peeped, “Harry… will you stay here tonight?”
Harry knew that Tom wasn’t just asking him to sleep on the couch. “Sure. But do me a favor?”
“Anything,” Tom breathed.
“Take a shower and brush your teeth. You smell like rotten leola root,” Harry half-heartedly teased him.
“Okay,” Tom said with the ghost of a smile, and headed off to the bathroom.
While Tom got cleaned up, Harry peeled the sheets off the bed – he couldn’t tell how long they’d been there and he really didn’t want to know – chucked them in the fresher, and put clean sheets on. When Tom vacated the bathroom, Harry changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and joined Tom in bed. Immediately after he shut off the lights, Tom rolled over and wrapped his arms around Harry, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline.
Racked with sobs, Tom buried his face in Harry’s shoulder. Harry held him tightly but didn’t say anything; nothing anyone could say would fix this.
Tom fell asleep before too long, but Harry lay awake for ages, still rooted to Tom. He thought about the last time they’d done this, during that hellish prison sentence and the uncertain few weeks after Janeway freed them. Back then, it had seemed like nothing would ever be okay again; tonight, he had the same feeling, only worse. This time, there would be no cavalry coming to save them. This time, their own people were the ones who’d destroyed them.