The BLTS Archive - Roadways
#4: Dead Ends
by MaisieRita (MaisieRita@aol.com)

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copyright 1999

Disclaimer:  Paramount rules!

Warning:  Angst-alert and one bad word.

Feedback:  Please!

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Kathryn called me into her Ready Room mid-shift, ostensibly to go over
crew assignments.  Once I got inside, though, she hit me with it.  "I
need your advice, Chakotay," she said slowly.

"About?"

"Tom Paris."

I reflexively schooled my face into an expression of indifference.  It
had become almost second nature by now.  "What about him?"

"He's asked to be put off the ship."

"What?"  It was a good thing she wasn't looking directly at me or
she'd have seen the dismay that flashed across my face before I could
control it.  "Why?"

"He says he has no place here.  He says it would be easier for
everybody if he left."

"Oh."  I couldn't seem to focus my thoughts enough to answer
intelligently, so I stalled.  "What did you say?"

"I told Seven to tell him I'd think about it."

"You didn't talk to him yourself?"

Distaste appeared briefly in her eyes.  "Of course not."

Of course not.  Bitch.  I remembered our time together on New Earth,
how close we'd come to being intimate, and I felt nauseous.  On the
surface, though, I stayed politely detached.  "What's your gut
instinct?"

She sighed.  "Well, he's right about one thing.  It would be easier
for everybody if he left.  To be honest, the farther away he is from
my ship, the happier I'll be."

I waited an instant before prompting, "But?"

"But he's a convict, Chakotay.  He's got nearly six months left on his
sentence.  How can I just let him go?"

I quelled my anger.  "We'd discussed this before, Kathryn.  I thought
you were prepared to argue that his time on Voyager should count
towards his sentence."

She waved her hand to dismiss the thought.  "That was *before*."

Before she found out he was gay, she meant.  The nausea rose again,
but I kept my voice neutral.  "Does that really make a difference?"

She looked at me as if I was a moron.  "Of course it does.  No
Federation judge in his right mind is going to commute the sentence of
a homosexual."

Of course not. 

She kept speaking.  "On the other hand, we're still thirty years away
from the Alpha Quadrant.  Do I really want someone like that on my
ship for that long?"

The words were out before I can stop them.  "It's not contagious,
Kathryn."  He'd said the same thing to Harry.

"Don't be an idiot," she snapped back.  "It's not just that he's like
that.  He's arrogant, insolent, unpredictable . . ."

Loyal.  Courageous.  Dependable.

". . .he never thinks of anyone but himself . . ."

He's risked his life time and again to save you and this ship.

". . . he's always fighting . . ."

"He doesn't start those fights."

"He provokes them."

"Provokes them?  By standing in line to get his lunch?"

"People don't want to eat next to a homosexual, Chakotay.  You know
that as well as I do."

"He has to eat," I said, exasperated.

"He can eat in his quarters."

"You took away his replicator privileges, Kathryn.  And unless I'm
mistaken, he's not under house arrest.  He *is* allowed to leave his
cabin, isn't he?"

Kathryn was silent for a long minute, looking at me.  "Why are you
defending him?" she said, finally.

Shit.  "I'm not defending him," I said patiently.  "However, even in
light of his . . . " I choked the next words out, "abnormal
tendencies, I'm having trouble forgetting all the good things he's
done for this ship."

"But he's gay," she said, as if that explained everything.

"So let him leave," I said flatly.  "If you really don't want him
here, let him go.  I'm sure you can come up with something to tell
Starfleet.  As far as his prison sentence, look at it this way.  It's
one less fag the Federation has to house and feed.  They'll appreciate
saving the expense."  I wanted to vomit.  I don't think I've ever
hated myself quite as much as I did in that instant.

Kathryn looked out the window and was quiet for a long time.  "It's
for the best," she finally said.  "B'Elanna wanted him executed, you
know."

I stared at her back blankly.  "Executed?"

"Believe it or not," she said, turning again to face me, "there's
justification for it under Klingon law.  'Mating under false
pretenses' brings irreparable dishonor upon both houses.  The only way
to fix it is for the injured party's family to execute the  offender. 
Fortunately for Paris," she added, "this isn't a Klingon ship."

Fortunately for us all.  I was shaken to the core.  It could have been
me she was talking about.  There but for the grace of God . . .

"All right," Kathryn said firmly, having come to the decision she
wanted all along.  "He'll be put off the ship."  She took a deep
breath.  "Would you tell him?"

I gazed at her blankly.  "Me?"

"I just can't make myself talk to him," she confessed.  "I know I
should, just this one last time, but I *can't*.  I get sick just
thinking about it."

I forced myself to sound reluctant.  "Yes, but why me?"

She looked at me suddenly.  "You don't think he'd try anything, do
you?  I mean, you're normal.  He wouldn't . . . *do* anything . . . to
you, would he?  I could send you with a guard."

I could hardly believe my ears.  "I don't think he'd try anything with
me, Captain."  That, at least, was true.  I was reasonably sure I
wasn't high on Tom's list of favorite people at that moment.  "I don't
need a guard. But if people find out I was talking to him . . ."

"I'll make it clear that it's ship's business, Chakotay.  You won't be
affected by it."

I took a deep breath and pretended to be steeling myself.  "All right,
then."

Ten minutes later I was knocking at the door to his quarters.  To my
surprise, Seven of Nine opened the door.  She looked at me quizzically
for a moment before turning to the side and announcing, "It is
Commander Chakotay.  He is alone."

I could see Tom's head pop out from the other room.  "Let him in."

As I entered Seven asked Tom, "Shall I stay?"

"No," Tom said, shaking his head.  "I can handle it."

Seven looked doubtful.  "Are you certain?"

"I'll be fine, Seven.  Look, if anything happens, you're the witness
that I was in here alone with him.  They'll have a clear-cut case."

Seven considered this and nodded.  "In that case I will get our
lunches from Neelix.  I will return in 30 minutes.  Acceptable?"

Tom nodded.  "It's fine, Seven, thanks."

He waited until the door had shut behind her before looking at me and
shrugging.  "She gets nervous," he said.  "I have a tendency to get
beat up when she's not around."

I nodded uncomfortably.  "I'd heard. Look, Tom, I just spoke to the
Captain.  She said you asked to leave the ship."

He nodded mutely.

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"Hell, yes," he answered, and strode across the room to the couch to
sit down.  "Why the fuck would I want to stay here?  They all hate me. 
Except for Seven and Neelix, I don't speak to another soul on this
ship.  And I have nothing to do here.  I'm going crazy."

"You could help Seven in Astrometrics."

"Nope." He shook his head.  "I'm not allowed to assist on any matters
relating to ship's business.  That includes helping Neelix in the mess
hall.  Not that anyone would want to eat any food I'd prepared,
anyway."

"So what have you been doing with your time?"

He shrugged.  "Research.  Shuttlecraft design.  A waste of time.  I'm
queer.  No one's going to fly in any shuttle I design.  Don't you get
it, Chakotay?  There's no point going back."

"But . . . " I hedged, "what about your family?  Don't you want to see
them?"

A momentary flicker of sadness passed through his eyes.  "I'll destroy
them, Chakotay.  It was bad enough after the accident and then the
trial . . . having a screw-up and a traitor in the family is bad
enough, but a queer screw-up traitor?  They'd run my dad out of the
'Fleet, my sisters would probably lose their jobs . . . I won't do
that to them.  I can't.  It's better if I just stay here."

It was hard to argue.  He was right, and we both knew it.  "The
Captain asked me to tell you she'd decided to let you go."

He snorted.  "Awfully big of her.  She was too freaked out to come
here and tell me in person, right?"

I didn't bother to deny it, and a hot stabbing pain tore through me at
the sad expression on Tom's face.  "I'm sorry, Tom.  I wish . . . I
wish there was something I could do."

"You could come with me," he said softly.  "It'll be as bad for you,
you know . . . if they ever find out."

"They won't find out."

He looked away.  "That's what I thought."

I fought back the tears that were threatening.  "I have to try to get
home," I whispered.  "I'm sorry, Tom, but I have to try."

"I know," he answered back gently.  "Just . . . do me a favor and be
careful, all right?"

"I will," I promised.  "You be careful, too."

"I will." His eyes followed me as I walked to the door. "I'll see you
around, Commander."

"I'll see you around," I lied. Who was I kidding? I'd probably never
see him again.

Tbhe End