NEW:VOY "Glory Days" 2/2 [PG-13] K & P
Rocky
Author: Rocky
Contact: r...@iname.com
Series: VOY
Part: NEW 2/2
Rating: [PG-13]
Codes: K & P
Date First Posted: 2/3/02
Archive: ASC yes, all others please ask first
Summary & Notes: See part 1
There was silence for a moment. "Yeah, except for that." Tom shifted
in his seat. He glanced at his chrono, but didn't say anything,
obviously having decided he would let Harry worry about any missed
sessions. "But at least one of us has made it into the big
time--Lieutenant Commander." He playfully flicked a finger at the new
dark centered pip on his friend's color, alongside the two gold ones.
"Third promotion in as many years. You're certainly making up for lost
time." Was there a slight hint of mockery in his words?
Harry stiffened, but strove to keep his voice neutral. "After being
the 'Eternal Ensign' all those years in the Delta Quadrant, it's about
time."
"Surely you're not blaming Janeway for *that*," Tom said, a note of
surprise in his voice.
"No, I'm not. If the promotions schedule had continued as usual---and
it would've really taken us the whole 70 years to get back--we would
have arrived home with a shipload of captains." Harry tossed off the
contents of his glass. He wiped his mouth. "If not admirals."
Tom laughed. "No, just captains. Janeway wouldn't have promoted anyone
above her own rank."
"Who's to say she wouldn't have made herself an admiral?" Harry said,
pouring himself another drink.
"I didn't think she was that eager for the job, actually," Tom said
quietly.
Harry shrugged. "She certainly took it fast enough, once we got back
and they offered it to her."
Tom regarded him above the rim of his glass. "What else could she have
done? She knew they weren't going to give her another command. After
all those years in the DQ, answering to no one but herself, she was
too much of a maverick for them to want to worry about." He sighed. "A
pity. The brass never did know how to handle loose canons."
Harry looked down at the glass in his hand. After all this time, he
still remembered how it felt when he'd heard the news about Captain
Janeway's promotion. "So you're saying they kicked her upstairs
instead."
"Exactly," Tom said. "Rendered her harmless. And deprived themselves
of one hell of a field commander at the same time."
"Better than a court-martial, right?" Harry said with a laugh. As if
that would have happened to the 'Hero of the Delta Quadrant.'
"I wonder," Tom said, his mouth tightening, apparently not finding the
idea so amusing at all. "At least that way she'd have the chance to go
down fighting, instead of being locked away in a gilded cage."
Harry put his drink down, untasted. "Whatever. She didn't have to
accept that promotion, you know."
"She did if she wanted to stay in Starfleet."
"No, she didn't," Harry argued. "She could have resigned, found
something else to do."
Tom smiled sadly. "Harry, Harry, Harry. I can't believe you're saying
that. After all those years of serving with her, seeing her on the
bridge day after day after day, you can honestly say that?" He leaned
back, tilted his chair up on its back legs, till he was braced against
the wall. "You know as well as I do, that she couldn't do that. No,"
he mused. "She gave up so much in the name of duty, and
responsibility, I sometimes wondered if she had left herself anything
else, anywhere else to go."
Harry felt a sudden pang as the impact of Tom's words washed over him,
but he still said stubbornly, "No, I don't see that. Sure, the last
few years especially were hard on her, but she always gave it her best
shot, never--"
"Never let us see how much it was killing her inside," Tom finished
softly. He sighed. "No, you wouldn't have noticed, Harry. But I did."
Harry regarded him through narrowed eyes. Where did Tom Paris get off,
talking down to him like this, as if he needed to have things spelled
out for him? He fought down a sudden urge to knock the other man's
chair over. "And what makes you so special?"
Tom gave him a faintly pitying look. "I never went into my career
quite so starry-eyed." Harry bristled at the implied criticism, but
Tom continued, oblivious to his friend's reaction. "I knew from my
father just how much of a toll it took to serve in Starfleet. Not just
on the officer, but on the people around him." Abruptly, he lowered
his chair until it was once more resting equally on all four legs.
"And that was in the Alpha Quadrant. Out there, on the other side of
the galaxy, it was a lot worse. She had virtually no support no
backup, just a rag tag crew composed of young officers on their first
or second tour of duty, combined with some hardened former terrorists,
and the occasional alien recruit. And yet somehow, she managed to hold
it all together."
"Not just hold it together--look what she accomplished! Against all
the odds!"
Again, the pitying look. "You won't get any argument from me, Harry. I
remember after we got back, all the grumbling in certain quarters,
claiming this one or that one could have done better out there than
Janeway, picking over every single decision she made, debating what
was the 'right' thing to do instead of just acknowledging that she'd
accomplished the impossible. They left her with no margin of error,
expected her to be perfect, and gleefully pointed out the areas where
she fell short of the almighty Starfleet regulations."
Harry said slowly, "I didn't hear any of that." He took another
swallow.
Tom shook his head. "No, you wouldn't have. The complaints were never
made public--in the eyes of the media she was the intrepid leader who
got her ship home. End of story. And then the press eventually went on
to the next big thing, the next captain anointed as savior, the newly
minted heroes, the shiny new ships capable of doing things none of the
previous ones had ever done before and would chase all our demons
away. And the former heroes, the people past their prime, why, they've
settled into quiet obscurity."
"Some people, perhaps. But not all of us." Harry stared at him
belligerently. Just because Tom had chosen to walk away from
Starfleet...
Tom's hand shot forward, but he stopped before making contact. He
waited, perhaps till he regained his control. "No, not all of us," he
said at last. "As I was saying, you're certainly moving up in the
world. And believe me, Harry, I know how much you deserve it." He
glanced at his chrono once more. "What time was that seminar you
wanted to attend?"
Harry shifted uneasily in his seat as he fought down a stab of guilt.
"It doesn't matter. I wasn't interested, not really." The thought came
unbidden 'just another way of passing the time.' Aloud once more he
said, "At any rate, I can always download the abstract later."
Tom picked up the bottle, and Harry saw with surprise that it was
nearly empty. Tom signaled, and soon another bottle appeared before
them. "I'm sure your ensign will be glad to give you his notes."
Both of them filled their glasses once more. The conversation had hit
another lull, but neither of them seemed ready to make a move. Harry
closed his eyes, feeling the effects of the synthale. He knew he
should get going, that there were places he needed to be. But it was
much easier to simply sit there, in the shadows, and let the
occasional words come out freely, without concern for who might be
listening, and how it would be interpreted. Such a relief...
Harry continued suddenly, as if there'd been no pause. "So did you
hear about our latest run-in along the Neutral Zone, with those damn
Ponzi?"
"You're talking about the Livingston, I presume." Here Tom smiled to
himself, as though at a secret joke. "Yeah."
"Did you hear any details?"
"Other than the fact it resulted in your promotion? I heard that your
ship got banged up pretty well," Tom said. "Made the lead story on the
newsvids two nights running, though they never really explained what
happened. What was it, an ambush?"
"Not exactly. Just in the sense we got caught with our pants down, big
time."
"How so?"
"The captain was in his diplomat mode," Harry said, trying and failing
to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "It was our assignment to
quell the flying raids along the border; Starfleet doesn't want to
give the Romulans any excuse for crossing beyond the Neutral Zone." He
wondered if Tom, as a civilian, was aware that relations between the
two powers had been deteriorating for some time, and it would be all
too easy for the 'cold peace' between the Romulans and the Federation
to turn into a hot war.
"I take it the Ponzi haven't been distinguishing between whose convoys
and colonies they attack?" Tom asked.
"Not at all." Harry realized he was gripping the edge of the table so
hard his knuckles were turning white. He forced himself to relax. "At
any rate, Captain Johnson thought he could get the raiders to listen
to reason, make them realize that it was only a matter of time till
one side or the other decided to put an end to them one way or the
other. So he called for a big meeting, with all the faction leaders."
"I take it he wasn't successful."
Harry snorted. "Not at all. Instead of sitting down to work out their
differences, at least a few of the Ponzi vessels thought this would be
a great time to try and eliminate the competition. And the Livingston
got caught in the middle."
"So much for diplomacy." Tom lifted a hand and smoothed back his hair,
or perhaps simply assuring himself that there was still plenty left.
"It was a gamble, at best. You can't win them all."
"That's right, you can't win them all," Harry said, not even trying to
keep the disgust out of his voice. "But what gets me is that he didn't
have a plan B, you know, some sort of back up, in case the
negotiations failed. He thought one cruiser, in peace-keeping mode,
just the show of force, would be enough."
Tom shrugged. "In other circumstances he might have been right."
"Maybe. But like Janeway used to say, successful diplomacy always
includes a little saber rattling. And the show isn't worth much
without some substance backing it up."
Tom smiled. "I remember. Unfortunately we had to put her little tenet
into practice a little too often for comfort." He leaned forward, his
smile fading. Abruptly, he asked, "Are you happy, Harry?"
Harry's lips twisted in a brief, ironic smile. "What's happy?"
Tom shook his head in bemusement. "You really want me to spell it out
for you? Fine. I'll tell you about happy. B'Elanna is. I am too, most
of the time, at any rate. But you...This isn't the first time I've
asked you that." He looked down at the scarred surface of the table
for a moment. "Remember--it was soon after we'd gotten back, no, we
must have been back for a while because you were serving on the
Challenger then, and had just gotten your first leave. You spent a
weekend with me and B'Elanna, in that place we were renting across the
Bay."
"And B'Elanna asked what it was like, serving on a ship that wasn't
Voyager." Harry fell silent, remembering his reply, his confession
that it was very strange indeed, and he wasn't sure he could make the
adjustment. That it was strange to see someone else occupying the
center seat. That every time Barker said, "Engage!" he heard another
voice, a husky one with a quality that always made him think of smoky
crystal, say, "Do it." Or how many times he'd been bending over his
console and caught a glimpse of an auburn bun, a crimson uniform, out
of the corner of his eye, only to see them replaced by a black buzz
cut and goatee above broad shoulders clad in gray when the captain
turned his way. The conversation from that long-ago leave echoed in
his mind once more.
//"Harry, there's always something special about the first captain you
serve under, he or she becomes a hero, especially to an impressionable
young officer. Add in the circumstances we faced out in the DQ..."
"What about it?"
"Don't put her up on a pedestal, Harry. She was good, and she went to
hell and back for us on more than one occasion. But it's over, that
time is over, and everybody has moved on. She's moved on, I have, and
so should you. Voyager came back, her captain got promoted, and her
crew scattered to the winds. You've got a new ship now, a new
captain--and you can't keep comparing every commanding officer you'll
ever have to her for the rest of your life."
"I've heard this before," Harry said, shaking his head. "They say
that's why no one should serve more than three consecutive tours of
duty on the same vessel, under the same command crew. That it's
important to be exposed to different styles, to different ways of
thinking, of evaluating a situation."
"And they're right."
"But look at the Enterprise, Picard's people. How long have they been
together?"
"Yeah, look at them," Tom retorted. "Stagnating in their careers, all
of them. Is that what you want for yourself?"
"No, it's not." He hesitated. "But if Janeway were still captaining a
vessel, I'd sign on with her in a second."
"Then it's a good thing she's not. And Harry, don't go comparing every
move Barker or whoever else is sitting in the center seat to what we
would have done back on Voyager, what Janeway or Chakotay would have
said, how they would have reacted. Everybody's got their own style.
You serve your time and then you move on."//
Harry shook his head to dispel the memory, and considered Tom's
earlier question about his 'emotional temperature.' "Yes, I'm happy.
At least, I think I am. I mean, I've got what I always wanted, right?
Promotions, plum postings on the newest and most advanced vessels
boldly going--" he broke off at the look on Tom's face.
"And yet?"
In a lower voice, he continued, "And yet, why do I feel so restless,
as if there's something I'm still looking for?"
Tom shrugged. "Human nature, I suppose. Look at the way we were on
Voyager, always trying to get home. That became our whole purpose, our
sole mission, and yet, when we finally got here--"
"We were happy then, Tom," Harry said firmly. "We all were. Seeing our
families again, the fuss everyone made over us, all the media
attention--"
"And when the speeches were over, and the hoopla died down, when
people came to grips with the fact that the wife or husband or lover
they'd left had moved on without them, that their children had grown
up and had lives of their own--what then, Harry? How long did that
feeling of accomplishment last?"
Harry didn't answer, but sat staring into the bottom of his empty
glass. He thought of pouring another drink, but at that moment the
synthale he'd already drunk burned fiercely in his chest. A wave of
nausea rose in him and he turned his head away, and took a deep
breath.
Tom was silent as well. He didn't seem to notice his friend's distress
or perhaps he didn't know what to say, perhaps fearing he'd already
said too much. A loud babble of voices washed over them from the next
table. Tom looked in that direction for a long moment, clearly lost in
memories of his own. "Say, you ever hear from any of the others?"
Harry shook his head. "Not really. Last I heard, the Doc was at
Starfleet Medical--"
"And Seven was in Boston," Tom finished. "MIT, or one of those public
universities."
"MIT."
"That was at least a year ago. Nothing more recent? Heard from anyone
else? Ayala, maybe?"
Harry said, somewhat apologetically, "You and B'Elanna are the only
ones I really keep in touch with. And..." He didn't add what they both
knew, that the aside from this chance meeting, it had been almost a
year since they had last spoken.
Tom said quietly, as if to himself, "So even among ourselves we've
faded into oblivion."
Harry lifted his head, and stared at him challengingly. "That's an
area where we can at least do something about."
"Is it?" Tom said quietly, a note of resignation in his voice.
"Sometimes, it's best to just let things die a natural death. Why
prolong the inevitable? Voyager was a unique time and place, and now
it's over. Maybe it's best to just let those connections fade away."
"Some things are worth holding on to," Harry insisted. He reached
over, picked up Tom's hand and squeezed it, hard.
Tom looked down at their hands for a long moment, and suddenly he
smiled. "Who am I to argue with a superior officer?"
Harry smiled back, and this time it reached his eyes. "I may outrank
you, Tom Paris, but I don't think I'll ever find a better friend."
FINIS
Michael Roy Hollihan
realistic and affectionate. Thanks for posting.
--
Michael Roy Hollihan
(Remove the NOT to REPLY)
186,000 miles per second: Not just a good idea, it's the LAW!
Lori
Yes, the angst bunny tap-danced all over the place with this one. But she
had good choreography. :) I imagine that after all they went through
together in the DQ it would be difficult to settle into the mundane (by
comparison) life of Starfleet in the AQ. And, the difficulty of change, from
a dynamic commanding officer to one of the many lesser captains in the fleet
who step up to the plate and swing the bat, but only end up hitting pop
flies and foul balls. I can just imagine Harry struggling to not say, "but
She would do this, not -- "
Which makes it interesting that Tom comments on Picard's crew
'stagnating' -- but perhaps the prospect of change, of losing the high
point, is keeping them in place more than anything else. They do get into
all kinds of high drama situations with ol' baldy. Perhaps Riker fears being
stuck cataloging quasars in the Sector Of No Great Significance. Someone in
the fleet must be doing all that grunt work, after all.
I see the short attention span has led me to wander from my original point.
Which was, of course, thank you for deviating from your virtual series long
enough to indulge the angst bunny, and give that bun a carrot.
Lori
Rocky
> A warm, if sad, examination of how we are changed by great events. Very
> realistic and affectionate. Thanks for posting.
Thanks, Michael! I'm glad you liked the story. Not my usual
characters, but in this particular instance, they insisted on making
their voices heard.
-Rocky
Visit Rocky's Road to Voyager
http://www.angelfire.com/yt/rockyroad
Rocky
> Found it!
>
> Yes, the angst bunny tap-danced all over the place with this one. But she
> had good choreography. :)
This was Seema's angst bunny; she just allowed me to borrow it for a
bit (provided I returned it unscathed.)
I imagine that after all they went through
> together in the DQ it would be difficult to settle into the mundane (by
> comparison) life of Starfleet in the AQ. And, the difficulty of change, from
> a dynamic commanding officer to one of the many lesser captains in the fleet
> who step up to the plate and swing the bat, but only end up hitting pop
> flies and foul balls. I can just imagine Harry struggling to not say, "but
> She would do this, not -- "
Yes, it's the difficulty of change that was my main focus. But as Tom
said, eventually you just have to move on. And the experience would
probably do Harry good, allow him to be exposed to varying command
styles so that he may one day develop his own way of dealing with
things, based upon his own strengths.
>
> Which makes it interesting that Tom comments on Picard's crew
> 'stagnating' -- but perhaps the prospect of change, of losing the high
> point, is keeping them in place more than anything else. They do get into
> all kinds of high drama situations with ol' baldy. Perhaps Riker fears being
> stuck cataloging quasars in the Sector Of No Great Significance. Someone in
> the fleet must be doing all that grunt work, after all.
Sorry, Lori, but I just *had* to comment on the realism of a situation
which would have that entire crew still together after all this time.
I think it's much more likely that eventually Riker would have gone on
to his own command, Data and Beverly to other ships, Troi to decide to
chuck the counselor business and train to be a first officer
instead....<g>
> I see the short attention span has led me to wander from my original point.
> Which was, of course, thank you for deviating from your virtual series long
> enough to indulge the angst bunny, and give that bun a carrot.
Rest assured, the muse is still very busy with Virtual Voyager Season
7.5. Look for my next episode in a couple of weeks. (The next story in
our series, by Christina, will be posted next Monday.)
And Seema doesn't let me feed the bunny--for some reason, she's afraid
I'll give it something unhealthy...<eg>
Glad you liked the story, and thanks for the feedback.
Lori
> This was Seema's angst bunny; she just allowed me to borrow it for a
> bit (provided I returned it unscathed.)
>
Yeah, I hated borrowing. I finally had to get my own. I can abuse it any way
I like now. :)
> Sorry, Lori, but I just *had* to comment on the realism of a situation
> which would have that entire crew still together after all this time.
> I think it's much more likely that eventually Riker would have gone on
> to his own command, Data and Beverly to other ships, Troi to decide to
> chuck the counselor business and train to be a first officer
> instead....<g>
<g> The realism is really... it's just a show. :) Any contrived excuse will
do for TPTB, even if they have to create a special Worf-yanking singularity
to suck him all the way back to the ship from the Klingon homeworld or DS9.
> And Seema doesn't let me feed the bunny--for some reason, she's afraid
> I'll give it something unhealthy...<eg>
A little cola and chocolate never hurt no one.... And I've heard Seema even
burns rice in microwaves, so maybe bunny is used to non-standard fare. ;-D
>
> Glad you liked the story, and thanks for the feedback.
>
You're very welcome.
Lori
seema
> Yeah, I hated borrowing. I finally had to get my own. I can abuse it any way
> I like now. :)
Thank goodness. I was afraid you'd come after mine. I can at least
count on Rocky taking care of the bunny properly. A good angst bunny
is hard to find (and then to keep down once you find her).
> And Seema doesn't let me feed the bunny--for some reason, she's
afraid
> > I'll give it something unhealthy...<eg>
>
> A little cola and chocolate never hurt no one.... And I've heard Seema even
> burns rice in microwaves, so maybe bunny is used to non-standard fare. ;-D
The bunny enjoys a healthy helping of charcoal along with her meals.
Lucky for her, I excel in that particular style of cuisine.
seema