NEW Honour [PG] VOY AU (P, f)

Title: Honour
Author: Dave Rogers (daverogers@geocities.com)
Series: VOY AU
Part: NEW 1/1
Date:
Rating: [PG]
Codes: P, f.

Summary: Sequel to "Father to Son", diverging from the events in 
"Pathways"; Soothing Summer Rain challenge story. Tom Paris, 
preparing for the court of enquiry after Caldik Prime, finds 
help and counsel from an unexpected source.

Disclaimer: I wrote the story, but honour demands that I tell you
that Paramount created the characters.

Acknowledgements: Jeri Taylor's "Pathways" for background
material.

Author's note: What started out as an attempt to fix what I saw as an 
omission in "Pathways" appears to be developing into a fully fledged 
AU series. I know where it begins and ends now, but it may take a 
while to find out where it goes in between.



Honour


The young cadet sat huddled in the shelter in Golden Gate Park as the 
unexpected summer rain hit the ground outside. He shivered slightly, 
though the weather was warm. His gaze appeared to be fixed on a point 
some two metres ahead of his feet, but his eyes were glazed and there 
was no indication that he was aware of his surroundings at all. Tom 
Paris felt deeply alone, and far from a place of safety.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a stream of unfamiliar 
words; he didn't recognise the language, but anything spoken in that 
tone of voice had to be profanity. Or maybe not, he thought, as he 
looked up and saw a tall Klingon woman enter the shelter. Most things 
sounded like curses in Klingon.

Even now, decades after the Khitomer Accords, Klingons were rarely 
seen on Earth, so he found he was staring at her despite himself. She 
was quite tall, maybe a hundred and eighty centimetres, and a long 
dress of what looked like soft blue-grey leather hung in pleats from 
her shoulders almost to the ground. The sleeves were of a brown 
material that appeared to be animal fur, and the whole ensemble was 
adorned with rather more straps and buckles than either function or 
aesthetics would seem to dictate. Her manner was proud and imperious, 
her hair flowing and slightly curled, and the ridges on her brow, 
rather than the harsh herringbone pattern he'd seen on every other 
Klingon he'd met, curved gently outwards in a pattern reminiscent of 
a fleur-de-lis. And she was looking back at him, and speaking.

"Have you seen all you want, Human?", she drawled insultingly. 
Somehow, she managed to pronounce the capital letter, and make it 
sound like an insult.

"For now, thanks." He stood his ground, seeing that she was studying 
him almost as intently; and it was she who turned away first, as 
thunder rolled in from the far side of the bay.

"Filthy planet, filthy weather, filthy hovel, filthy..." She stared 
out at the woodlands around them. A promising early summer's day had 
turned bad on her, and what had started as a light shower had grown 
more and more intense. Now sheets of rain whipped across the path 
outside, driven by wild gusts of wind, as the driving rain threw tiny 
splashes of mud into the air. "I can hardly even see where I'm going!"

Seeing no response from the cadet, she continued, "Dishonourable 
weather for a dishonourable planet." Still he sat silently. "For a 
dishonourable race!" And still he refused to be drawn. Truly, there 
was no honour among these cowardly humans.

Then he looked up at her again, and the pain and despair in his eyes 
told her a different story. She heard him briefly say, "Maybe you're 
right," and his head was bowed again. This was not cowardice; there 
was a weight on this young human's soul, and he seemed to have no 
comrades to help him bear it. Then she noticed that his clothes were 
dry, and there was no mud on his boot soles. Whatever he was hiding 
from, it had little to do with the weather.

She sat on the bench beside him. "Kahless tells us that there may be 
honour in the heart of a stranger. Tell me your burden, Human."

"I have to tell a lie." It was a measure of the depth of Tom's 
depression that he saw nothing wrong in confessing his secrets to one 
of humanity's traditional enemies.

"Why?"

"It's complicated."

The contempt was back in her voice now. "You Humans make everything 
complicated."

"I have to do it." There was a flash, then, seconds later, a harsh 
rumble in the distance. The thunder was closer now.

"No, you don't."

"I've already lied."

"Then stop!" She raised her voice as a branch, caught by the wind, 
fell against the back of the shelter.

"I've been ordered to."

"The order was dishonourable. Disobey it." Her voice sounded 
exasperated.

"It's from a man I can't disobey."

She shrugged, and said dismissively, "Then kill him."

Tom found himself suddenly laughing. Arguing with this woman was like 
wrestling with flour.

"That's better," she said in a softer voice. "You have to be truthful, 
Human. Your heart will not bear the dishonour."

"You don't understand," Tom replied, looking up at her again. "It's 
too much. I can't do it on my own."

"Have you no friends?" The Klingon woman's tone was harsh, but her 
brown eyes were soft with sympathy. She almost knew his answer before 
it came.

"The three people I trusted most are dead. It was -"

His words were interrupted by another flash and, some two seconds 
later, another clap of thunder. As the echoes died down, he finished, 
"It was my fault."

She frowned in thought for a moment, then asked, "How did they die? 
In battle?"

"A training accident. We were practising strafing runs, and I led 
them in too low." Tom let out a long and shaky breath, and realised 
how much easier it felt to tell the truth. He was starting to agree 
with the Klingon woman; his heart could not bear the lie for long.

She nodded. "Just as good. They died warriors' deaths, and they will 
feast with Kahless." In her heart, she knew that she no longer 
believed that Humans would ever feast in Sto-vo-kor; but, for some 
reason she could not fathom, she felt she needed to help this troubled 
young warrior. "Did you announce their arrival in Sto-vo-kor?"

His forehead furrowed. "I'm not exactly sure..."

Lightning flashed again, and this time the thunder followed within a 
second. it was a few moments before the echoes died away.

"How long ago was it?" There was urgency in her voice now.

"Two weeks." The memory flooded back over him, and he was far away 
for a moment; but the Klingon woman's voice called him back.

"Then it may not be too late. Tell them, Human. Tell them that three 
warriors are to join them. Tell them now!"

"I don't know how!" The rain was falling in thunderous sheets now, 
surrounding them in a grey mist and drowning out all sound, so that 
both had to shout to make themselves heard.

"Scream! Cry out like a warrior, with all your heart! You must tell 
them to let your friends in!" Her eyes blazed with an intense fire, 
its effect almost hypnotic for the young cadet. Events took on a 
strange dreamlike quality, as he felt unable to resist the will of 
this stranger. The rain and thunder, never totally real to him, 
seemed to fade; the driving wind and thrashing trees became wraiths 
in an unreal landscape; the only reality was the Klingon woman who 
stood before him.

Tom stood, stepped to the edge of the shelter and took a deep breath. 
Concentrating all his pain, his guilt, his grief and his fears, he 
clenched both fists, and felt an alien strength move within him; and, 
as the roar of another thunderbolt began, he screamed.

In the next few seconds, time seemed to slow down for him, every 
instant clearly defined and separated, as if laid out before him for 
his inspection. First, there was the beginning of his scream. An 
instant later, he was dazzled by a lightning bolt striking the tree 
some ten meters from the shelter. There was a brief flame as the tree 
exploded, and the trajectory of every spark and ember that cascaded 
around him was clearly outlined. Another part of his mind registered 
the Klingon woman diving for cover in the back of the shelter, as he 
stood, surrounded by fire but miraculously unmarked. The groan of 
tortured wood was just heard over the crashing of the rain as the two 
halves of the tree, split from crown to roots, fell either way before 
him, and the crashing sound as they hit the ground echoed the clap of 
thunder that had blasted them seconds earlier. For a few seconds more  
the tree burned, before the driving rain extinguished all; then there 
was just the rain, and the dying note of his scream of farewell.

He stood still for a while longer, feeling a sense of peace stealing 
over him. For the first time, he could think of Charlie, Odile and 
Bruno without physical pain; in fact, he felt an inner resolve from 
their memories. He considered the way ahead, and what he had to do in 
two days' time, and that too seemed simpler and clearer. The truth 
must be told; their memories must be honoured. The Klingon woman was 
right. Humans did make things too complicated.

He looked round as she struggled to her feet, and almost laughed out 
loud at the shame on her face. Catching himself in time, though, he 
simply smiled and said, "I think they heard that in Sto-vo-kor."

She was looking at him with a new, puzzled intensity, and her voice 
was almost shaking with emotion as she asked, "Your friends - were 
they all Human?"

Tom looked out over the park. The rain was slowing now, as the storm 
moved out over the Pacific Ocean. "Yes, all three of them," he 
answered over his shoulder. "Why?"

But the Klingon woman's reply didn't seem to be an answer. She simply 
said, "They are already there."

Tom turned to look at her, but she was sitting, looking down, almost 
the way he had been when she burst in. He sensed that she needed to be 
alone now, for what reason he could not guess; so he simply said, "I 
know what I have to do now. Thank you."



The rain had slowed to a light shower again as Miral Torres watched 
the young warrior leave the shelter and strike off for the Academy. 
Then she was alone with her thoughts, and knew that her decision to 
come here had been made in haste and prejudice. Her honour demanded 
that it be reconsidered.

Ever since her husband had abandoned her, she had learned to despise 
all things human, believed that humans knew no honour, detested the 
whole species. When she had heard of her daughter's intention to 
attend Starfleet Academy, she had travelled to Earth to stop her, to 
drag her back to Kessik by main force if necessary. But what she had 
seen today threw all her resolve into doubt. It wasn't just the fact 
that she'd seen a human, under stress, admitting his deepest feelings 
and resolving to act upon them, although that was proof enough that 
humans were capable of honour. No, it was the clear sign from Kahless 
that the human's comrades were feasting at his side; that humans 
could, as she had once dared to believe, be admitted to Sto-vo-kor. 
And if that was true - it was almost too much to hope - maybe she 
would see Marc again.

She closed her eyes, and saw the afterimage of the young man, standing 
tall and proud as he cried out his grief, outlined in fire, his voice 
sounding even over the roar of the thunder. He reminded her of her 
husband as a young man; and despite the pain, the memory brought her 
joy.

Her mind was made up now; her daughter would remain at the Academy, 
need never even know she had been here. It was simpler that way. *And, 
who knows,* she thought, *maybe she'll meet up with my young warrior 
some day. As Kahless said, two warriors together may watch each 
other's backs. B'Elanna could do a lot worse.*



THE END