Romancing the Stone
Stage III: Unearthed

by
Darrel W. Beach
Sep 1998


Chapter 10

	*"Come on, Tommy, hurry up!  The game's gonna start in twenty
minutes."
	*"Hang on a sec.  I can't find my lucky hat."
	*"Like that's really gonna make a difference.  All the good seats
are gonna be taken!  Just forget it."
	*"No way.  I've worn my lucky hat for every game the Starfleet
team has played and they haven't lost yet...."*

	*"Kathryn Janeway.  I served with your father on the *Al-Batani*.
I wonder if we could go somewhere and talk?"
	*"About what?"
	*"About a job we'd like you to do for us...."*

	*"Ladies and gentlemen, I now present Starfleet Academy's
graduating class of 2365...."*

	*"Excuse me, I'm looking for a man by the name of Tom Paris.  Do
you know where I could find him?"
	*"Maybe.  Who wants to know?"
	*"I'm looking for a pilot to go on a supply run and I hear he's
the best one around this sector."
	*"Won't argue with you there, but he's not taking any more
freighter jobs.  The pay stinks and the work is uninspiring."
	*"He hasn't heard the flight plan yet."
	*"Why should that make any difference?"
	*"Because the supplies we need are on Kesmarit."
	*"Kesmarit?  Isn't that in the Demilitarized Zone?"
	*"That's why we need a pilot like Tom Paris."
	*"You're one of the Maquis, aren't you?"
	*"What would you do if I was?  Inform the Federation authorities?"
	*"The Federation and I aren't exactly on amicable terms.  I'm Tom
Paris."
	*"I suspected as much.  So, what do you have to say about my
offer, Mr. Paris?"
	*"I'd say I have a bar tab that needs taking care of.  And,
please, call me Tom."*

	*"I knew that when I first set eyes on you that I would never be
with another woman for the rest of my life."
	*"I bet you say that to all the girls, Tom."
	*"Well, yeah, but I really mean it this time...."*

	*"If we get this core back, I'm going to bed and sleep right
through until tomorrow.  I mean...I just want to get this day over
with."
	*"Look at it this way: how much worse could it get?  Having to
dump the warp core has to be the low point of *any* day...."

	Standing on the ledge of a steep cliff, Tom watched impassively
while the distant horizon blossomed into a frighteningly beautiful haze
of golds and reds.  It was a new type of dawn: the dawn of global
annihilation.  What method used to create such a cataclysm he didn't
know, but he was mysteriously not afraid.  Some voice from within told
him not to worry, for as the life of this world extinguished around him,
his existence was already determined.  He calmly accepted it.  He
recalled the faded remnants of his final moments in Sickbay, slipping
into a dark unconsciousness from which he would never escape.
	An immense cloud, blood-crimson, rolled inexorably toward the
cliff.  By his calculations it would engulf him in less than a minute.
He did not try to run or find cover.  He welcomed it with open arms.  It
could not hurt him; life could not be taken from those that did not
possess it.  Closer and closer it came, travelling at a mind-boggling
rate of speed.  With the seconds ticking down Tom closed his eyes in
anticipation and waited for the cloud to swallow him whole.
	It slammed into him with the force of a freight ship, lifting him
over five meters off the ground.  The sensation of pain was exquisite;
the toxic elements of his new surroundings corroded his organs from
inside and outside simultaneously.  He would have screamed if he still
had a windpipe.  His conscious mind, still intact as the poisoned gas
seeped its way into his cranium, chastised him for his foolish
assumption.  It was clear now, his soul had been judged by the Almighty,
and sentenced to eternal damnation.  This was his passage into Hell.
Then all his perceptions voided.
	Tom opened his eyes, or at least he imagined he did.  He was lying
down again, but a sheet of cloth was draped over him, right over his
head.  He wasn't sure whether he was dead or alive, or at some point in
between.  If he was truly dead, then this defied all the stories he'd
heard about the afterlife.  Then again, he'd never been truly dead
before.  The stories were just philosophical conjecture about an
intangible entity; who knew what really happened?
	As he lay there debating with himself, Tom started to become aware
of sensations.  In his chest he could feel his heart beating an unusual,
irregular pattern.  Every inch of his skin crawled.  His hair itched.
His lungs began to ache, and it was then that he realized he wasn't
breathing.  Panicked, he desperately drew air through his mouth until he
was virtually hyperventilating.  His breaths were shallow and rapid,
barely adequate to supply the oxygen his body craved.  Little by little,
though, the burning in his lungs subsided.
	It was then that someone drew away the sheet covering him.
	The EMH stared at him with undisguised bafflement.  "You're
alive!"  That settled one argument, at least.  More troubling, though,
was the question that took its place.  By the Doctor's surprised
reaction Tom guessed that he wasn't supposed to be alive now.
	He scratched his head, in part due to the new mystery but mainly
because the itching was really starting to irritate him.  His hand came
back with a handful of hair.  Tom's eyes grew wide.  "Wha - what's
happening?" he said his thought aloud.
	The Doctor responded by activating the bioscanner on Tom's bed and
moving to a nearby display to study the findings.  "All of your internal
organs are functioning again."  Tom saw the hologram's posture tense.
"In fact, you seem to have an extra one."
	Tom's brow creased.  "What?"
	The Doctor moved to one side, allowing Tom to see first-hand his
physiological aberration.  "You have two hearts."

                              *	*	*

	Leena turned off the monitor on her desk and rubbed her eyes.
They felt raw and tired, more likely caused by her crying than from
eyestrain.  She had been tempted to excuse herself from work, reluctant
to let her co-workers see her in this condition, but her overriding
sense of duty interfered.  Fortunately no one asked questions about her
appearance.  Julie likely knew what had happened and understood enough
to give her space.  The others were probably still too intimidated to
pry into her personal life.  That made it all a little easier to cope
with Tom's passing.
	Her communicator pin chirped to life.  "Kes to Lieutenant
Calloway."
	Leena tensed involuntarily.  Last night's visit was still fresh in
her mind.  Kes had been right about the shock and the bottled emotions.
Now Leena had the uncomfortable notion that the Ocampa was invading her
private thoughts.  Everyone knew that Kes was developing mental
abilities similar to Lt. Tuvok's.  She did not have Lt. Tuvok's
discipline or restraint, though.  Who was to say that she wasn't
eavesdropping on the thoughts of everyone on the ship while she learned
to hone her powers?  It was a silly notion, really; Kes seemed too
considerate a person to commit such a violation, but Leena was hesitant
to strike up another conversation for fear of making herself more
vulnerable.  Unfortunately she couldn't ignore the hail.  "Calloway
here."
	"Lieutenant, could you come to the Doctor's office for a few
minutes, please?"
	Leena's hair stood on end.  The only thing she wanted to do less
than speak to Kes was to go back to Sickbay.  It was too soon.  Her
edginess bled into her voice.  "I'm not sure if I can."
	"Please, Lieutenant, you have to come.  Something's happened to
Tom."  Leena's breath stopped even as Kes said, "He's alive again."

	The turbolift doors barely finished opening when Leena bolted into
the corridor.  What Kes claimed was unfathomable.  She had seen Tom and
heard the Doctor's diagnosis.  The Doctor must have malfunctioned or
something.  How could the cellular degradation suddenly reverse itself?
She was determined to get his explanation for why he had falsely
declared Tom dead.  So determined was she, in fact, that she nearly
walked into the Sickbay entrance when the doors did not open.
	"What the -"  She pressed the manual door release, but nothing
happened.  "Computer, open the doors to Sickbay," she ordered
indignantly.
	"Access denied.  Sickbay doors are sealed according to quarantine
protocol."
	"Quarantine?"  Her jaws clenched.  If this was a joke, she wasn't
laughing.  "How am I supposed to see the Doctor?"
	"Crew members seeking medical attention should report to Holodeck
2 until quarantine is lifted."  The computer was actually prepared for
the query, but it misinterpreted the context.
	Leena fumed for a few moments before she thought of something.
She slapped her communicator pin.  "Sickbay, this is Lieutenant
Calloway.  Would somebody please explain to me why I would be paged to
come here when the whole room is under quarantine?"
	The Doctor's irritated voice replied.  "My office has an alternate
access approximately nine metres to your right, Lieutenant.  I'll open
the door for you."
	Walking an extra nine metres down the hallway, she was satisfied
when the door opened automatically.  The Doctor stood in the mouth of
the entrance, just off to the side.  "You could have at least told me
about the security locks before I ran up here."
	"You're welcome," the Doctor answered sarcastically.  "I thought
it best under the circumstances to shield Mr. Paris from unexpected
visitors, and vice versa.  He's a little sensitive about his appearance
right now, and any patients to come in would no doubt be uncomfortable
with his appearance as well."
	"Why?  What's going on?  And what did Kes mean when she said that
Tom is alive *again*?  People just don't come back to life, you know."
	"I'm a doctor, of course I know," he snapped back.  He paused,
then sighed.  "I realize this must be a very difficult time for you
right now, Lieutenant.  The information Kes provided is accurate; Mr.
Paris was clinically dead for several hours.  His autonomic system, his
internal organs, his brain wave activity - all were completely
inactive.  Then all at once they were functioning again."
	"How is that possible?"
	"I wish I had an answer for you.  His DNA appears to be mutating,
but how that accounts for his spontaneous reanimation, I have no idea."
	"Mutating?  You can fix that, can't you?"
	"I'm trying, but to be honest, unless I can determine a pattern to
the mutations it will be very difficult to correct."
	Leena looked at the door to the examining area.  "Let me see him."
	The Doctor grimaced.  "I would advise against that.  Mr. Paris has
been behaving oddly since his reawakening."
	Leena resolutely grabbed the Doctor by the scruff of his uniform,
much to his surprise.  "Please, I have to see him!  I don't care what he
looks like or what he does; I'm not turning my back on him.  He needs
me."
	The Doctor adjusted his matrix to slip out of Leena's grasp, but
her rough handling still left him a bit flustered.  "Very well, but
don't say I didn't warn you."  He led her through the doorway.  Kes was
standing guard over a diagnostic centre nearby, looking older than she
should have.  Leena worried about what was robbing the Ocampa of her
sprightly demeanour.  "Mr. Paris, you have a visitor."  The Doctor
casually stepped aside, allowing Leena a glimpse of Tom.  She couldn't
help but gasp at his unexpected appearance.
	Tom's eyes widened in panic when he saw her, and he vainly
attempted to conceal his blemished features with a pair of gnarled
hands.  "Don't look at me!"
	"Oh, Tom," she choked out.  Most of his hair had fallen out; a few
wispy patches stuck out from his crown at odd angles.  She looked down
at the floor.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.  I never should have pushed
you to take part in that transwarp project."
	Tom was quiet for a moment, but when he spoke his voice was calm.
"You've got nothing to feel guilty about.  I would have flown the
shuttle anyway.  I got what I deserved."
	Her head snapped back up, and he flinched at the movement.  "What?
What makes you think you deserve *this*?"
	"Because I've been nothing more than a nuisance to everyone I've
ever known.  All I've ever done - all I ever will do - is cause
trouble and grief.  Bottom line: I put my needs above everything else.
You made me realize that."
	For a second Leena thought to step forward and reach out for Tom,
but remembered the force field surrounding the surgical bay.  She felt
frustrated by the inability to physically console him.  "You like to
push the envelope, to openly question the rules of life.  Sometimes you
go too far, but that doesn't mean you're a nuisance."
	Tom laughed at her.  "Why do you care?  I thought you'd be happy
that you wouldn't have to put up with me anymore."
	"I care," she said, the words sticking in her throat.  "I care
because I've fallen in love with you."
	His hands fell to his sides, but he did not turn around.  His face
looked flushed and oily.  "You're joking, right?"
	She shook her head.  "It's no joke, Tom.  I tried for so long to
deny it because, frankly, you scare the hell out of me.  I was afraid to
tell you how I really felt because I didn't know for sure whether you
really care for me or if it's just part of some routine you use to charm
women.  Only after Kes told me you died did I realize what a fool I'd
been.  You've taken time to talk to me and learn about my past.  You've
tried to share in my hobbies and interests.  You've shown me respect
even when our opinions clash.  Most of all, you've willingly shared some
of your most private secrets with me.  You've been so open, and I kept
you at arm's length.  I'm the one who's been a coward."
	She could see his smile, and a weight lifted off her shoulders.
Now that she had finally admitted her feelings it didn't seem like such
a bad thing.  Then she heard that cynical laugh again.  "You almost had
me for a second," he replied.  "I've got to hand it to you, you really
know how to make a speech.  I almost believed every word you said."
	The words stabbed through her heart.  "I'm telling you the truth,
Tom.  Why can't you believe that?"
	"Why?"  He finally turned around and glared at her with one good
eye.  A trembling hand reached up and clawed off a handful of hair and
skin, making her flinch.  The Doctor was immediately at his side to
treat the self-inflicted wound and Tom tried to push him away.  "*This*
is why.  I'm turning into a freak.  The rest of my life is going to be
spent behind force fields."
	She shook her head sadly.  "There's more to a relationship than
physical closeness, Tom.  It's about the sharing of lives.  We've each
given parts of our past to each other that no one else has ever seen."
She gently placed her hand against the electromagnetic field.  It hummed
softly from the contact, tickling the surface of her palm.  "You can't
get much more intimate than that."
	For a brief moment his eyes seemed to glaze over.  He shut them
and shook his head, and when he opened them they were again clear.  "It
would never work.  We're both aware of how much we were attracted to
each other physically.  That's gone now; I'm probably never leaving this
room again.  You're better off without me, anyway; I'll only end up
hurting you."
	"Don't do this, Tom.  I can help you get through this."
	"Stop patronizing me!  I don't need your help, and I don't need
you!"  He moved threateningly towards her and would have smacked into
the isolation field if the Doctor hadn't been there to restrain him.
Instead he turned her back on her again, dismissing her presence.  "Just
go away, and don't come back."
	She wanted to say something, to beg reconsideration, but she
realized it would be pointless.  Sick or not, Tom was still acting as
stubborn as ever.  If he wanted to cope with his condition by himself,
then that's how it would be.  As much as she wanted to stay, Leena
turned around and left the way she had come in.  Let him wallow in self
pity until he decided that wasn't the best way.  He would come around
eventually, and she would be prepared to be there for him.  She wasn't
about to give up on him this time.

                              *	*	*

	*"Sorry I'm late."
	*"That's okay, Mr.Paris, we don't need you.  Mr. Grimes has taken
your place at Conn."
	*"But it's my shift."
	*"Not today it isn't."
	*"What, because I was ten minutes late?"
	*"That's right."
	*"Captain?"
	*"Don't look at me, Mr. Paris.  Commander Chakotay has complete
discretion in this matter."

	*"Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, you are guilty of
insubordination, unauthorized use of a space craft, reckless
endangerment, and conduct unbecoming an officer.  Do you have anything
to say?"
	*"Riga needed my help."
	*"In doing so you disobeyed my direct orders."
	*"Yes, ma'am."
	*"You violated the protocols that govern this ship."
	*"Yes, ma'am."
	*"You nearly started an armed conflict with the Moneans, and
frankly you're lucky to be standing here right now.  I would have
destroyed your shuttle if necessary."
	*"Yes, ma'am"

	*"So, when should I report back for duty?"
	*"When you decide to start taking your job seriously, we'll
discuss it, but right now you're dismissed."
	*"Get your hands off me!"
	*"Mr. Tuvok."
	*"Yes, Captain?"
	*"Please escort Mr. Paris to the brig."*

	*"Riga's people weren't going to listen; they were going to ignore
our warnings."
	*"You don't know that."
	*"Riga knew, and I was the only one who could help them."
	*"I understand your passion, but passion alone doesn't give you
the right to take matters into your own hands."*

	*"With all due respect, *sir*, I know all about you.  I know about
how you killed those three officers in that shuttle crash.  I know how
you attempted to cover up your mistakes by denying the truth.  I know
that you got expelled from Starfleet because of your treachery.  And I
know that you were apprehended as a member of the Maquis and sentenced
to prison.
	*"Now I want to make myself perfectly clear: I may have to work
with you, but it doesn't change the fact that you are a loathsome
individual."*

	*"Owen, you're being too hard on him.  He's still just a child."
	*"That's the real problem: you coddle him too much.  I am not
raising him to be a mama's boy.  He's going to find out that life hands
you some hard lessons, and I'd prefer he learns that now before he grows
up to be some day-dreaming screw up."*

	*"Until now you've been a fine officer; your service on this ship
has been exemplary.  I really believed you were past this kind of
conduct."
	*"I've never been one for playing by the rules.  It's doesn't mean
that serving under your command hasn't changed me, for the better.  At
least this time I broke the rules for a reason, for something I believed
in."
	*"I admire your principles, Tom, but I can't ignore what you've
done.  I hereby reduce you to the rank of Ensign, and I sentence you to
thirty days solitary confinement.  Take Ensign Paris to the brig."*

	*"Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, as Starfleet's judge advocate
general for this sector I find you guilty of the following charges: for
submitting a false report into an official investigation, disregarding
proper safety protocols in the operation of a Starfleet flight craft,
reckless endangerment of Starfleet personnel, committing perjury and
three counts of manslaughter.  Effective immediately your Starfleet
commission is revoked, and you are hereby dishonourably discharged from
service.  That is my ruling.  You are dismissed, civilian."*

                              *	*	*

	He found that if he lay very, very still the crippling pain that
worked on his limbs and torso actually subsided a little.  Not that he
really cared anymore.  He understood that great achievements often
required sacrifices.  *No pain, no gain.
	*It's all so clear now.  I've been given a gift.  A repayment for
all the times I've been dumped on in my life.  Just wish I didn't feel
like I'm being turned inside out.  God, it hurts!
	*And the Doctor won't listen.  What do computers know, anyway?
All he wants is to find a way to stop this.  But he won't.  He can't.
I'm already too far beyond their understanding.*
	A conversation began in the Doctor's office.  Tom could not hear
it clearly, but he knew the topic; what else would the Doctor be
discussing?  *Probably griping over his own impotency to 'cure' me.*
After several minutes the voices got louder and easier to comprehend.
They were coming out to stare at him, to ridicule his grotesqueness.
	"...erratic, unpredictable; there are moments of lucidity
interspersed with almost deranged behaviour," he heard the Doctor say.
	"I'll keep it in mind," he heard the captain say.
	Captain Janeway, to whom he owed this torturous, hideous, most
glorious transformation.  So now she had come to offer empty promises.
	Ignoring the excruciating pain of movement, he sat up and turned
to face his guest.  "Pretty disgusting, huh?"
	She stared at him without even a trace of remorse.  "You've looked
better."  Tom quietly laughed at the reply; how could anyone expect
anything but blunt honesty from the captain?  "How do you feel?"
	"Like a lab experiment gone wrong."
	"Well, we're trying to put that experiment right.  The Doctor is
working on a way to restore your DNA to its original -"
	"Why?" Tom said impatiently.  He wasn't interested in hearing the
same words over and over again.
	Janeway stopped, unsure if she had heard him correctly.  "Excuse
me?"
	"Why?  What I'm becoming will probably be better that who I was."
	"Lieutenant, you know that's not true."
	"Oh, yes it is."  He folded his arms across his chest.  "Admit it,
part of you will be glad to see me gone.  I'm the Maquis traitor who
sits on your bridge and insults your uniform, remember?"
	"We're all concerned about you, Tom.  We're here to help you."
	He swallowed her expression of concern like vinegar.  He couldn't
believe how transparent her lie was.  "No, you're not.  You're trying to
take this away from me."
	She feigned ignorance.  "Take what away from you?"
	"What I'm becoming.  How do you know this isn't good for me?  How
do you know this isn't the best thing that's ever happened to me?"
	"That's a possibility...and then again it could kill you.  We need
to find out what's going on."
	He stared at her with contempt.  "You're lying.  Just like him,"
he nodded at the Doctor.  "Just like everyone around here, always lying.
Always telling me that I'm doing a good job, that you're glad I'm on the
ship.  But none of that's true."  The anger suddenly exploded from him.
"Why can't you just say it?  You're jealous that I broke the transwarp
barrier and now you're hoping I'll die!"
	She did not back down from his accusation.  Anger penetrated her
unwavering glare.  "You're right, Doctor, I don't think there's anything
I can do here."  She turned to leave.
	*What am I saying?*  Tom was instantly to his feet.  "Wait,
Captain!  I'm sorry.  Please come back."  She stopped and faced him
again.  "I know you're doing what you can.  It's just...I'm scared.  I
didn't mean to lash out at you."
	"What you're going through would scare any of us, but you've got
to hang on, Tom.  We're doing everything we can to help you."
	"I know you are."  His face twisted with disgust.  *Show the
slightest hint of helplessness and everyone thinks there's a chance.
Pathetic.  It would so easy to wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze
the life out of her.*  "And I know you'll *fail*."  Tom lunged at her.
He would have succeeded in carrying out his impulse, except for one
detail.  He was thrown backward as his body came into contact with the
force field surrounding the surgical bay.
	He staggered back to the bed, leaning against it to support his
wobbling legs.  He chuckled.  "You know, I used to look up to you.  But
now you seem so small, so insignificant.  You don't even know what -"
his throat constricted, cutting his rant short.  Tom began to choke.  He
reached inside his mouth to remove the blockage.  After a few attempts
he pulled out the offending object: his tongue.
	Tom looked up and smiled at Janeway's horrified expression.  A
giddy feeling surfaced within him.  He waved the slippery piece of
muscle in the air triumphantly, mocking them all for even daring to
suppose that they could prevent this divine intervention.  "Hew see?
I'm whinning."