NEW Father to Son [PG] VOY (P, Adm. P)

Title: Father to Son
Author: Dave Rogers (daverogers@geocities.com)
Series: VOY
Part: NEW 1/1
Rating: [PG]
Codes: P, Adm. P

Summary: Missing scene from "Pathways". Why did Tom Paris lie to 
the court of enquiry after Caldik Prime?

Disclaimer: Father and son are Paramount's. "Father to Son" is mine.





Father to Son



Cadet Thomas Eugene Paris sat silently in his father's anteroom. His 
habitual upright posture was forgotten as he slumped forward, his head 
cradled in his hands. He thought of Odile, Bruno and Charlie, their 
lives, loves, hopes and dreams, and their stupid, pointless, senseless 
deaths. He thought of his fatal seconds of inattention, his betrayal 
of their trust in him as a leader, and his ultimate, irrevocable 
failure as a man. He even thought, for a moment, of the ruin and 
collapse of his Starfleet career; never, now, would he realise his 
dream and sit at the conn of the USS Enterprise, or any other 
Federation starship. But mostly he thought of death, of ending, of 
final release from his pain. His eyes stung, as they had for the whole
of the two days since the tragedy, and he felt that tears were not far 
away; but now, what did it matter?

Every time he shut his eyes, he saw it again. The surface of the 
asteroid beneath him, too close. Charlie, following him in, straight 
into the unyielding rock. Odile - the very thought of her name was 
almost too painful to bear - striking after him, her remains mingled 
with his. And Bruno, last of all to die by a few brief seconds, 
consumed in the fireball of his friends' funeral pyre.

He looked up as someone entered. A familiar refined British accent 
framed the words, "Tom. Your father will be here in a minute. Come on 
in." Captain Klenman, his father's aide, beckoned him into the 
Admiral's office. She pressed an intercom button, and spoke briefly. 
"Joseph, coffee for," and looked at Tom, who nodded briefly. "Two, in 
Admiral Paris' office, please." Taking one final look at Tom's bleak 
expression, she decided that conversation would not be welcome, and 
left.

Alone again, Tom at last felt the tears begin. A lifetime of training, 
of self-discipline and instruction in how to be a Paris, kept him from 
making any other outward display of grief, but the tears ran silently 
down his cheeks, sole witness to the truth of his humanity that all 
the rest of him struggled to hide. And it was thus that, bursting into 
his office with the force of a tropical storm, the Admiral found his 
son.

Owen Paris had come prepared to sympathise, to support and condole 
Tom, but the sight of tears took him aback. His carefully rehearsed 
words froze on his lips, and he simply muttered, "Thomas. How are 
you?"

The younger Paris stood up, wiped his face and composed his 
expression. Maybe sympathy had been a little too much to expect from 
the mighty Admiral Paris.

"I'm unhurt, sir, and in good health." He felt more like a subordinate
than a son.

"Good, good," said the Admiral, looking down at the carpet. "Sorry to 
hear about your squadron." He forced his eyes up to look at Tom, and 
saw with relief that the tears were gone now. Displays of emotion 
were the one thing that always threw him off balance.

"Thank you, sir. But I regret that," Tom took a deep breath and 
summoned his courage, "I will be unable to complete my course at 
Starfleet Academy."

The Admiral's brow knitted with concern. "Why not, son? I know this 
must have been a shock to you, but you'll feel different in a few days.
Accidents happen, and we all have to cope with them and go on. I didn't 
bring you up to be a quitter!"

Tom stood his ground. "I will be unable to complete the course, sir, 
because I'm unfit to be a Starfleet officer. The accident that killed
my fellow cadets," *that killed Odile, Bruno and Charlie!*, his mind 
shouted to him, "was entirely my fault. I must bear," his voice 
faltered, "full responsibility."

"I see." Admiral Paris turned away, walked around his desk, and sat 
down, motioning to Tom to do likewise. He sat for a moment, 
marshalling his thoughts, then spoke again.

"Thomas, I have been a commander in the field, and lost men under my 
command. There is no worse feeling, and I have always taken full 
responsibility. I have often wondered whether my decisions were to 
blame for the deaths of my men, and I have occasionally been tempted 
to indulge in feelings of guilt. But I have never given in to them, 
and neither will you." He tried to soften his tone; he didn't want 
this to sound like he was dressing down a junior officer. "You must 
learn to distinguish between responsibility and fault, Thomas. As the 
leader of your squadron, you must bear whatever responsibility the 
court of enquiry assigns to you, but you must learn from this 
experience and let yourself go on to be a better officer." For a 
moment, a comforting moment, he managed to forget that he was talking 
to his son in the wake of a tragedy, and imagined himself addressing 
a freshman's class at the Academy. "Do not fall into the trap of 
second-guessing yourself. Make the best decision you can at the time, 
and live with its consequences afterwards. Is that clear, Cadet?"

Owen Paris realised, with a slight shock, how he had just addressed 
his own son. It was too late to take it back now, though; Tom, who 
had tried once or twice to stem the flow of his speech, was talking 
already, and rising to his feet.

"Sir, I committed an error of judgement, that led directly to the 
deaths of my three best friends!" His voice had risen to a shout. 
"Damn it, Dad, I killed them! And when I tell the full story to the 
court of enquiry, I don't think the Academy's going to want me back."

He stood rigid, staring at his father with grief and shame all over 
his face. His father simply sat, stunned more at his son's display of 
emotion than at the revelation he had made, and stared back in shock 
and disbelief. Both held this tableau for a few seconds, until the 
Admiral's orderly entered with their coffee.

Owen Paris watched the orderly leave, then decided it was time for 
another effort to reach out to his son.

"You'd better tell me how it happened, Thomas." He hoped that didn't 
sound as aggressive to Tom as it did to him.

Tom sat back down, and laid his head in his hands, reverting to his 
earlier pose in the anteroom. How exactly had it happened? He decided 
to start at the beginning.

"It was a routine asteroid strafing run. We rotate the leader's... we 
rotated the leader's position," he corrected himself, realising that 
the squadron would never fly again, "to give everyone experience. It 
was Bruno's turn, but although we'd done strafing runs before I'd 
always been in the lead. This time, I thought he wasn't ready, but -"
He thought of his friendly argument with Bruno just before the 
mission...

  - My turn to lead, Tom.
  - I think I'd better take this one, Bruno.
  - You just want to be first back in the showers!
  - No, I just can't stand the sight of the back of your head!
  - Okay, I'll follow Odile in. She's prettier than you anyway.

...and thought of Bruno, and his loss and guilt overwhelmed him and 
the tears began again.

Admiral Paris decided he didn't need to hear any more. "Tom, that's 
exactly what I'm talking about. You chose to trust Bruno to lead, even 
though you weren't sure he was up to it. It was a command decision, 
and whatever the consequences, you believed it was right at the time. 
That's what you have to tell the court of enquiry. They won't do more 
than reprimand you at worst. You'll be able to put all this behind you 
and get on with your life, your career. Mourn the dead, Thomas, but 
don't bury yourself with them!"

"Dad, you don't understand. I was the leader, not Bruno. I led them in,
and they died because of me!"

Admiral Paris bowed his head and shook it gently from side to side. He 
didn't know whether to be angry with his son, or proud of him. He'd 
seen so many officers, often the best of all, go under because they'd 
taken the responsibility of leadership too far, and blamed themselves 
for every fault in their men. He wouldn't let his son go down that 
road; it was his duty as a Starfleet officer to preserve a promising 
career, and his duty as a father to help his son to forgive himself for 
Bruno's mistake.

"I understand, son, believe me. I understand what it means to be a 
leader. The hardest thing of all is to set limits, to know when to let 
go, bury the dead and move on with the living. Let me help you, Thomas."

Tom gazed at his father in disbelief. He'd told him the awful truth, 
and it almost seemed like it had gone right over the Admiral's head. 
He was beginning to wonder whether he needed to put it even more 
bluntly, when the Admiral, after a few moments' thought, began to speak 
again.

"Now listen to me, Thomas. It's important that you get your story 
straight before the court of inquiry. Be clear about what happened, no 
doubts, no hesitation. Run over everything in your mind in advance 
until you're quite clear on every detail. And remember, Thomas - make 
sure you tell them it was Bruno who led you in, and don't make a great 
show of being to blame for everything. Tell the court what they need to 
hear, and they'll have no difficulty in exonerating you."

At that moment, the remains of the young Thomas Eugene Paris' world 
fell apart. He had taken too much over the past few days. His father's 
refusal to allow his application to the Enterprise, the death of his 
three closest friends and the total ruin of his career and family name, 
he could survive. But this was too much; his father - not only that, 
but one of the most respected officers in the whole of Starfleet - was 
telling him - ordering him, in fact - to lie, to save his own skin!
The ideals he had followed all his life, the institutions he had 
honoured and respected, and the father he had believed in, suddenly 
seemed transformed into a web of lies, a hollow mockery, steeped in 
hypocrisy and deception. And in a world of liars, what difference would 
one more make? What difference did anything make?

He made one last desperate stand. "I have to tell them the truth, Dad."

"You have to tell them that Bruno led the mission, Thomas, and that you 
assigned him to lead. Tell them that, and let them decide." Admiral 
Paris felt a little more confident now. His son was coming round to his 
point of view, and wouldn't destroy his career just to satisfy a 
misplaced sense of self-sacrifice.

Tom had no more strength to resist. "Okay, Dad. I'll do what you say," 
he replied dully, all emotion departed with the death of his youthful 
idealism. He saw a lifetime of lies and dishonour before him; but from 
what he had seen and heard in this room, maybe there was no other life 
to be had.

He stood up. "If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to think through my 
testimony now."

"I understand, son. I'm here if you need me. And try to get some rest, 
you look tired."

As Tom left, Owen Paris relaxed in his chair. The boy was going through 
some tough times, but it looked like he'd make it through them and go on 
to be a good officer. For the time being, though, he needed a father's 
help; and Owen was glad that, just this once, he'd been there when his 
son needed him.



THE END