Tom's first reaction to the message winking on his terminal was to simply pretend he hadn't seen it. 

After spending a largely restless night, he'd finally managed to drift off into something resembling sleep but merely two hours before the computer had rudely forced him back to wakefulness.  He'd fought the alarm for twenty minutes, burrowing his head under the pillow to muffle its irritating voice, refusing to open his eyes and acknowledge the inevitability of his defeat.

It had been primarily fear that had finally forced him to throw back the tangled bed sheets and stagger to the bathroom. Fear of being late for duty. Fear of giving Chakotay a legitimate reason for his abuse.

He was starving. Having been unable to face the mess hall alone the previous evening, and being seriously low on rations because of his habit of avoiding the mess whenever Harry wasn't there as a buffer zone, he'd only dared replicate himself a cup of soup. It wasn't enough food for any grown man, let alone one with his own fucked-up metabolism.

He toyed vaguely with the idea of using a few of his precious rations to at least replicate some coffee to wake himself up then decided, on balance, that a sonic shower was a wiser choice, despite the rumbling complaint of his empty stomach. He'd learnt that jumping in the sonic while wearing his uniform allowed him to look like he'd put it through the 'fresher, thus saving *more* credits. That way he'd at least be able to have some soup again after his bridge shift.

Unless, just possibly, he found the courage to answer the message flashing on his computer. 

He had no intention of braving the Mess on his own. He'd rather starve than sit alone there and suffer the silent antagonism of Maquis and 'fleeters alike.  He vaguely wondered whether it was worth speaking to the Captain, then dismissed the thought with a self-depreciating smirk. Sure she *seemed* to genuinely have tried to make his life on Voyager better, but she'd undoubtedly draw the line at increasing his rations just because of his mental hang-ups. 

What was he supposed to say to her? That the cold speculative stares of the other crew reminded him of breakfast in Auckland? That he was reaching a point of such loneliness that he was seriously considering offering his ass to someone just for the touch of another's hands? Just for their *attention*. Just so he could temporarily feel connected to someone, even if it was only as their fuck toy?

Shit. She'd space him if he admitted the truth; that he was actually missing Auckland, that he wanted to go back there where he knew who he was and *what* he was and no one ever expected any more of him and no one pretended publicly to like him but then took every opportunity to stab him in the back. Where there wasn't a Chakotay or a Harry.

The message on the terminal mocked him.

"See you at the mess, 0730??"

Why?

Why the fuck did Harry think he'd turn up, after the way he'd dumped him the night before?

Because Harry knew he'd be starving or because Harry thought he was a sad, pathetic fuck who couldn't cope without *one* friend?

Harry obviously thought he'd jump at the message, that he wouldn't even dare to mention the evening before or ask *why* Harry hadn't wanted to be seen with him then but had miraculously changed his mind again.

And Harry was right, Tom decided bitterly.  

He *was* that sad, pathetic fuck because he *would* turn up and pretend it was okay.

Not because it *was* okay.

Just because he didn't have any other options.

~~~

Chakotay had a similarly restless night, but his stomach wasn't churning because of hunger. The source of the roiling, twisting in his guts was far less to do with physical discomfort than mental confusion. He'd left the Captain's quarters in a fury of combined anger and relief, with a strange, insistent nagging feeling on the edge of his consciousness that felt oddly like shame.

He was a proud man. Quick and decisive in his judgments, certain in his convictions, never second-guessing his choices or allowing himself the luxury of regret. As a deeply undercover SCC agent, he'd been living on a dangerous knife-edge for years. He'd precariously balanced the orders of his superiors, whose goals he fully endorsed, with his very real sense of obligation to the Maquis crew who had put their trust in him.

The life of an undercover operative was, by necessity, a bitterly lonely one. If any of his Maquis crew had realized that he was really a Starfleet plant they would have understandably turned upon him. They wouldn't have believed that the SCC genuinely cared about their cause, or that Chakotay's own decision to accept the life of an apparent renegade traitor had been something he embraced in his heart, despite the genuine sorrow he'd felt in putting aside the Starfleet uniform he was so proud of.

His own homeworld, Dorvan V, had fallen to the Cardassian Treaty. His own people had been sacrificed by the Machiavellian plots of the FIA. His own father had died at the hands of the Cardassians and his mother and siblings were imprisoned somewhere in labor camps.  He had every reason to join the Maquis. Which, of course, was why the SCC had chosen him to infiltrate them.

But being an SCC spy *hadn't* meant his respect for the Maquis was any less. It hadn't prevented him from doing everything humanly possible to help their cause. It didn't mean his *feelings* for them were any less real. It just meant that his ultimate loyalty was to a greater purpose, one that secretly supported the Maquis efforts.

Not that B'Elanna or Ayala or any of the other Maquis would possibly understand that. He didn't doubt that any one of his *friends* and former crew would turn on him in an instant if they realized the Starfleet uniform he now wore had always been his true colors. They would hate him. They wouldn't listen to his excuses, his reasoning. They wouldn't see the truth. That he loved them all as though they were his children and he would die to protect each and every one of them.

And knowing that... accepting the sorrow that his motives and actions would be so easily misunderstood by the brave, good people that he cared for so much, he couldn't help wondering whether he'd been fair to Tom Paris, after all.

Was what Tom had done any worse than what *he* had done?

He was cursing Tom for being what he was himself - a spy.

Why? Because Tom was working for his avowed enemy the FIA or simply because he felt like such a damned fool for falling for a pretty face? He hated Tom for fooling him, but hadn't he fooled Tom himself? Tom *still* didn't know that his former lover was an SCC Commander rather than a Maquis Captain. So had he been any more honest with Tom?

No.

Yet had his failure to tell Tom the truth been a deliberate choice to deceive him?

No.

It simply hadn't mattered. Chakotay hadn't seen that his own legal status had been anything to do with his feelings for the younger man. His love for Tom had been real. Just as his love for his Maquis crew was real.  So was Tom....

No.

It wasn't that simple, goddamnit! Tom was a mod, a monster. He had deliberately deceived him by pretending to be raped by Dukat. Tom had set him up. Tom had deliberately used the injuries to gain his sympathy. Injuries that, if what Chakotay understood about mods was true, Tom had thoroughly enjoyed receiving. Like the way Tom had writhed like a Risan whore when Chakotay had hurt him in the cargo bay.

Hurt him.

/Spirits/ he cursed, 

/at least be honest in my own thoughts.

/I raped him.

/So what if he egged me on? That's what mods do, isn't it? It's their programming. The moment I started to hurt him, Tom Paris left the room and the mod arrived to take his place.

/And...

/And...

/That means...surely that means...

/The Tom Paris I made love to before that terrible day *wasn't* the mod, wasn't the FIA spy.

/Maybe./

And the question that really plagued him. The thought that kept him tossing and turning all night was this:

"If I walked out of my quarters tomorrow and told the Maquis the truth, would any of them support *me* like Harry is supporting Tom? Would any of *them* look below the deceit and see my heart is true to them? Would any of them 'accept my baggage and just deal with it'?"

He had a horrible feeling that the answer was no. That none of the Maquis would care enough to look beneath his surface to the truth.

Why would they?

Why should they give him the benefit of the doubt when he hadn't even contemplated giving the same courtesy to Tom Paris?

~~~  

Harry knew Tom was upset with him. It wasn't anything the pilot said, it wasn't even shown in his expression, it was just the way the blue eyes seemed dull and lifeless. Whenever Harry spoke, Tom pretended to be giving his full attention but his eyes were flat, never reflecting the cautious smile that hovered over his lips.

It made Harry feel bad, seeing the return of Tom's doubt in their friendship, but he couldn't think of any way to deal with it except by pretending he didn't notice. There was no way he could explain *why* he'd rushed off so abruptly the night before without admitting that Chakotay had been trying to cause trouble between them.

Tom loved Chakotay. It was so obvious that Harry wanted to track down the huge First Officer and slap his face until he came to his senses.

But Harry didn't have a death wish and, besides, he didn't think it would help Tom's cause. The only thing he could do for Tom was try to cushion him from Chakotay's aggression and be there for him as a friend.

He knew it would take Tom a few days to put his apparent rejection behind him so, in the meantime, all Harry could do was be patient and persistent in his friendship until Tom settled down and relaxed again.

"Meet me here at lunchtime?" he asked brightly, as they rose to head for the bridge.

Tom flinched a little, as though shocked by the offer, but then gave Harry another of his tentative, heart-breaking smiles.

"Sure," he whispered, although his eyes remained wary as though he was uncertain whether Harry would let him down.

Harry refused to let himself feel hurt by Tom's mistrust. Tom didn't doubt *him*, he reminded himself. Tom doubted the whole universe. And with good reason.

"Great," he replied, with a broad smile.

Tom quickly looked away, but not before Harry thought he saw a tiny spark beginning to splutter back to life in the sad blue eyes.

~~~

"Damn, that was close," Harry exclaimed loudly, then blushed furiously as everyone turned to look at him. He cringed slightly as the Captain swiveled to look at him.

"Too close," she agreed, with an understanding smile. Then she turned her attention to the pilot whose lightening reflexes had just prevented Voyager from taking a nose-dive into the alien ship that had just popped out of hyperspace 2000 meters from their bow.

"Well done, Tom. I've never seen such brilliant flying."

Tom turned his head and gave her a hesitant smile, then his face drained of color as Chakotay silently rose and walked over to check the readings on the conn. Tom cringed in his seat, fully aware that the maneuver he'd just performed was impossible. If the Captain hadn't already told Chakotay he was a mod, it wouldn't take many seconds for Chakotay to figure it out for himself. No unmodified human had the hand-eye co-ordination to react as fast as he had just done.

Tom closed his eyes, half expecting Chakotay to simply whip out his phaser and execute him on the spot. He knew full well that Chakotay had been waiting for an excuse to get rid of him and now he'd just given the Commander enough evidence to shoot him dead and cite Clause 23.5 of the Eugenics Code as full justification.

He nearly fell off his chair when all Chakotay did was murmur "Very impressive, Lieutenant," and then returned to his own seat.

Wow, I bet *that* hurt, Harry thought, seeing the strange expression on Chakotay's face but assuming it was just because the Captain had kicked his butt about riding Tom constantly on the bridge.

"The alien vessel is hailing us, Captain," he said, out loud, as his console flashed.

"On the viewscreen," Kathryn snapped, but she remained at the conn, her hand resting on Tom's shoulder in an obvious gesture of approval.

A view of the bridge of the alien ship flickered onto the screen. The facial characteristics of the aliens was distinctly similar to the Kazon, but their hair, uniforms and expressions were all far more relaxed in appearance, except for the unmistakable embarrassment on their faces. It took a few seconds for the universal translator to kick in, but when it did there was no doubt the aliens were sincerely apologetic about the near disaster since the first translated words were

"...we really can't apologize enough."

The whole bridge crew released the breaths they'd been holding and began to relax as it became evident that this hadn't been a strange form of attack but just an unfortunate error on the aliens' part.

"We've been testing this new drive for months," the alien continued, "and it's *usually* reliable but has an unfortunate habit of throwing us back out into normal space without warning."

"What kind of technology is it?" Kathryn asked, after accepting the apology gracefully and introducing herself.

The aliens looked at each other a little shiftily before their Captain decided to answer.

"We call it a slip-stream. It creates a vortex, similar to a worm-hole. It sort of folds space so that you move incredible distances without creating undue stress on your own hull."

"What kind of distances?" Kathryn asked urgently.

"We've said too much already," the alien replied awkwardly. "As genuinely sorry as we are for almost damaging your vessel, we have a policy of not sharing technology with less advanced species. The Delta Quadrant is already a constant war zone without risking any alteration of the current power structure." 

"We understand. We have a similar rule called the Prime Directive. However, we are travelers through your space, only looking for a way home. If you shared your technology with us, all we would do is use it to return to the Alpha Quadrant," she urged.

"We're sorry," the alien replied sadly. "It is a law. We cannot pick and choose whether to break it..."

Tuvok snapped off the two-way communication and turned to the Captain.

"Their vessel is only equipped with long-range weapons," he announced coldly. "I have isolated the frequency of their shielding and there are only eighteen life forms on their ship. They have no way of preventing us from acquiring the technology if we act before they use it again."

Kathryn's eyes flared in fury and she stiffened as she turned towards him.

"We are a Starfleet vessel, not pirates, Mr. Tuvok."

"It is our duty to return to the Alpha Quadrant," he replied.

A small smile played on Kathryn's lips.

"Duty? That's a strange term for a *Maquis* to use, isn't it?"

She felt Tom's shoulder go rigid beneath her hand and wondered, as she imagined Tom was, whether Tuvok would take the opportunity to publicly reveal he was FIA.  Instead the Vulcan gave a cool shrug.

"We Maquis have a duty to our comrades," he replied. "We aren't constrained by your ridiculous Starfleet morals. We should take this technology and go home where we belong."

"This is a Starfleet ship and you're wearing the uniform of a Starfleet Officer," Chakotay growled. "However temporary our allegiance is to Captain Janeway, while you wear that uniform you will act and *think* like a Starfleet Officer."

/He is,/ Katherine thought to herself grimly. /The only problem is he's thinking like an FIA Officer./

"Too late," Harry interrupted, as the aliens obviously decided the silent conversation was a potential threat and engaged their slipstream again without warning. In less than a blink of an eye, the alien ship disappeared.

"And we didn't even catch their names," Tom drawled, relaxing again under Kathryn's hand.

She gave him a quick smile of appreciation and moved back to her chair. 

"Whenever you're ready Mr. Paris, resume our original course."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied happily.

Strangely enough, since she hated being called 'ma'am', she found she liked the way it sounded from Tom's mouth. Besides, she'd said people could use it in a crunch and looking at Tuvok's rigid posture she had a feeling crunch-time was approaching at warp speed. 

~~~

Tom cringed when his door chimed.

It was gone 2200 and he couldn't think of any good reason someone would be disturbing him so late at night. He swallowed bitterly. He should have known something like this would happen. The universe never was kind to Tom Paris except when it was playing a huge cosmic joke. The very fact that he'd had such a good day should have been enough to warn him that he was about to get his feet kicked out from under him again.

From Chakotay's surprising reaction on the bridge, the day had just gotten weirder. The Captain had spent the whole shift finding any excuse to approach him, smile at him or pat his shoulder. She had made it so clear to everyone that Tom Paris was in her favor that five people had approached the table he was sharing with Harry in the mess that night and had complimented his flying. 

FIVE.

Okay, since he'd saved *everyone's* asses, five people was a damn low percentage of the entire crew but, still, it was five more than he would have ever dreamed possible.

Five people had smiled at him, had treated him like a person, like a crewmate, like someone worthy of a moment of their time.

He should have known something bad was going to happen.

With a bitter sigh, he rose to his feet, forced an expression of calm over his features to hide the way his heart was racing and told the door to open, and although his guts twisted in panic at the identity of his visitor, he found he wasn't even surprised by his arrival.

~~~

"May I come in?" Chakotay asked.

"Of course," Kathryn answered. "Help yourself to a drink, if you like. We're both off duty."

"I'm not intending to stay," he replied. "I just wanted to discuss something with you."

"Tom?"

Chakotay shrugged and gave her a rueful smile. "Am I that transparent?"

"No, not really," she laughed. "But I expected you to call by after what happened this morning."

"It's not humanly possible to react that fast," Chakotay replied.

"But then you already know he's a mod, so what's your problem? He saved our lives, didn't he? If anyone else had been at the helm we would have collided with that ship at warp 6. Nobody would have survived that impact."

"That's just it," Chakotay said thoughtfully. "Ever since you told me he was a mod, all I could think about was that he was some form of...of..."

"Monster?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay nodded guiltily.

"And now you see him as what?" she demanded. " A *useful* monster?"

"Something like that," Chakotay confessed.

"Really, Chakotay, it's been a long day. If the only reason you came here was to give me *permission* to make use of my pet *monster*, I don't want to hear it."

"I didn't mean it like that," Chakotay replied. "I meant I realized I'd been wrong to accept the idea that his modifications mean that *he's* evil. Sure, what  has been done to him is evil, but that doesn't mean that he should automatically be put under a death sentence. The Eugenics code seems so logical and straightforward in principle, but nothing's that black and white in reality, is it?"

"I'm glad you finally think so," Kathryn replied, with a relieved sigh. "I can't make Tom any promises. There's every chance that when we return home, and his father's been tried, that the decision may still be taken that Tom should be euthanized. He knows that, Chakotay. It's a terrible burden for a young man to bear and Tom has been carrying it since he was a teenager. When you judge the decisions he's made and the things he's done, try and imagine how it feels to live with a permanent death sentence over your head.

"Maybe he did fool you, Chakotay. Maybe he even used you. But can you really blame him for stealing whatever tiny happiness he achieved by doing so? He told me he had one night with you. One night of happiness and then it was ripped away from him again. The saddest thing is that he couldn't even enjoy that one night because all the time he was aware that it *would* be taken from him."

"I don't want to hear this," Chakotay snapped, jerking to his feet.

"Why? Does the truth hurt too much, Commander?" Kathryn challenged. 

"Yes," Chakotay admitted. "Because I *hear* what you say. My mind even believes it but.." he tapped his chest "...in *here* all I feel is hurt and betrayed. I can't forgive him, Kathryn. I want to. I really, honestly do. I even wonder whether it should be me asking *his* forgiveness but, inside, I just feel empty. There's nothing there for Tom anymore. Not even anger. Just...just nothing."

"I see," Kathryn said calmly, although she didn't. For someone who claimed to feel 'nothing', Chakotay was managing to portray a whole lot of agitation.

She rose and poured him the drink he'd said he didn't want, and he clutched it with obvious gratitude.

Then she sat and pondered on the amazing capacity of humans to deceive themselves.

~~~

"Captain Janeway was right," Tom argued, pacing around his quarters nervously. "What's the point of the Prime Directive if we don't accept the same principles from other species?"

"There*is* no point to the Prime Directive," Tuvok replied coldly.

"What?" Tom asked, stumbling to a halt and regarding the Vulcan in surprise.

"The current Federation is built on a lie. The image of a perfect utopian civilization. That Utopia does not, and can not exist. The idealistic rules of Starfleet pander to that lie. They bear no relation to reality. It is a rule of nature that whenever a civilization achieves a pinnacle, there is always someone stronger who will attempt to steal what it has achieved. In the light of that reality, the FIA has reached the logical conclusion that in the battle to protect the aligned worlds the ends always justify the means." 

"You sound like the Admiral," Tom muttered. He didn't mean it as a compliment but the Vulcan puffed up and preened regardless.

"Your father is a great man. A man of vision. He's one of the only people who stands between the Federation and its inevitable destruction."

"Oh yeah," Tom snapped. "President Paris. I've heard it all before."

 "If you had cared to *listen*, perhaps it would not have been necessary to turn you into an abomination just to ensure your co-operation," Tuvok replied.

Tom staggered slightly and turned away from the Vulcan to try and conceal how much Tuvok's comment had hurt him.

"Damn you," he hissed. "How dare you call me that when I know it was *you* who suggested he did this to me?" he snarled.

"Once it was obvious that you had received none of your Father's greatness within your genes, when he was faced with the fact that you were a complete disappointment to him and would continue to prove so, he made the decision to have you terminated so that his enemies would never be able to use you against him. At that point, since you were already deemed expendable, it was logical to include you in the experimentation. We required a modified agent to infiltrate Dukat and it was  highly improbable that even a mod' would survive the experience. You were the logical choice."

"Because I'd already been written off?" Tom demanded bitterly.

"Indeed," Tuvok replied emotionlessly. "Furthermore, in view of your mother's indiscretions, your father believed you were genetically predisposed to the life of a whore. He was evidently correct."

"You pompous bastard," Tom snarled. "My mother left the Admiral because she saw him for the insane megalomaniac he is, that's all."

Tuvok raised his eyebrows in a Vulcan sneer. "Whatever," he shrugged. "The point is that you are, whether you chose the role or not, an operative of the FIA and you will obey me as your ranking Officer."

"Doing what?"

"Anything I tell you to do," Tuvok informed him in an emotionless voice, although he didn't attempt to hide the distain in his eyes.

Tom's stomach clenched but he attempted to shrug nonchalantly.

"Your orders are pretty irrelevant, I'd say. We're seventy years away from the Alpha Quadrant."

"Thanks to the stupid decisions of the Captain, all of which have proven her incompetence," Tuvok replied coldly. "When the next opportunity presents itself to shorten our journey, I intend to be in a position to take advantage of it."

"Captain Janeway won't..."

"She is irrelevant," Tuvok snapped. "She will be relieved of duty, leaving me the most senior officer."

"What about Commander Chakotay?"

"He's a Maquis criminal," Tuvok replied. "Under my command, no Maquis will hold any position of rank. Janeway's decision to include them in the ship's hierarchy was a mistake from the start."

"She had no choice," Tom argued. "The ship's under manned. We can't function without the Maquis."

"In lesser roles," Tuvok allowed. "They should have been taken prisoner and given their duties as an alternative to the brig. Not given rank and position within the ship. I will address the problem when I am Captain."

"No," Tom argued. "You can't. She's not only Starfleet, she's..." his voice trailed off. He didn't know *why* she'd forbidden him to reveal she was FIA, but her orders held sway over Tuvok's.

"She's SCC," Tuvok growled. "She must be. There's no other logical explanation for the decisions that she's made."

Tom looked at Tuvok with something akin to pity.  Boy, was the Vulcan going to be embarrassed when he discovered his faux pas.

~~~

Chakotay put down his glass with a sigh.

"I ought to go," he told Katherine.

"Oh no you don't," she laughed, "I want to know *why* you and Will got onto that freighter in the first place."

Chakotay blushed slightly.

"It was just a lark. You know what first-year cadets are like."

"I do," she grinned, "which is why I want details, Mister!"

The ready room door chimed.

"Saved by the bell," Chakotay quipped.

"No way," Katherine replied. 

Although her tone was teasing, she seriously didn't want to end this conversation yet. It wasn't that she gave a damn about Chakotay's Academy stories but that she'd spent almost two hours breaking through the Commander's natural reserve and she knew only too well that if he left now she'd have to start again from scratch. Somehow she wanted to get to the bottom of Chakotay and Tom's relationship and if she had to work her way through Chakotay's entire history to discover why he was denying his feelings for the pilot, she was prepared to do so.

"It's past midnight," she told him. "Whoever it is won't stay long. Just nip into the bathroom for a few minutes while I get rid of them."

"You want me to hide in the bathroom?"

"You did it on that freighter," she reminded him, with a grin.

He chuckled, refilled his wine glass and disappeared into the annex of the ready room.

Katherine waited until the door closed behind him, then opened the door.

"Tom," she exclaimed, a little louder than necessary so that Chakotay would take the opportunity to eavesdrop. Tom was always so surprisingly honest with herself that she thought it might be an education in itself for Chakotay to overhear.

"I...I know it's late, Captain," Tom began hesitantly, folding his arms over his chest in an obviously self-protective gesture.

"Come in, Tom. It's obviously important or you wouldn't have come. Tell me what's wrong."

She expected it to be Tom's version of the day's events, mixed in with fully understandable worry about having revealed himself as a mod in front of the Commander. Tom was smart enough to realize that Chakotay had too much experience as a pilot himself not to have understood the impossibility of Tom's lightning reflexes.

So she was mystified when Tom said, "It's Tuvok."

"What about Tuvok?" she asked, walking to the replicator and requesting coffee and cakes. She was well aware that Tom hadn't been eating properly. She hadn't been able to think of a justification to increase his ration allowance without his finding her action suspicious, but there was no reason she couldn't feed him herself.

"He's...well, he's planning a mutiny," Tom mumbled.

Katherine nearly dropped the plate of muffins.

"He's what?"

"He said what you did today proved your incompetence. That an FIA operative should know that the Prime Directive is a utopian fantasy and that the ends always justify the means," Tom blurted, then flushed and dropped his eyes to the carpet.

"I see," Kathryn said calmly. "Drink your coffee, Tom."

She waited until he'd taken a gulp, and was eyeing the muffins wistfully, before speaking again.

"So he told you this directly?" she asked, careful to keep her voice light.

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom replied, cautiously edging his fingers nearer the plate.

"Help yourself," she said. "I assumed you'd like blueberry. I prefer chocolate myself but I've noted you rarely eat chocolate."

"I never developed a taste for it," Tom replied casually, although he noted the fact she was obviously keeping an eye on his replicator account.

"I doubt the Admiral approves of chocolate," Kathryn said.

"I don't think he approves of much," Tom commented ruefully. "Particularly me."

"Is that what Tuvok told you?"

Tom shrugged and chewed on a muffin.

"Pretty much," he answered eventually, "but that's old news."

"As is Tuvok's knowledge of what the Admiral thinks," Kathryn replied carefully. "Remember, Tom. He's been undercover for a long time. His intelligence is out of date. He doesn't even know that *I'm* FIA...unless...."

"I didn't tell him," Tom assured her. "You told me not to, so I didn't."

"And, of course, you always do what you're told," Kathryn replied, a little sadly.

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom agreed, then flushed. "Well, usually."

"Except when you wanted to run away with Chakotay?" she asked, for the benefit of the big lug in the bathroom.

Tom flinched.

"It was just a fantasy. That's all. He wouldn't have taken me. I know that now."

"But you believed it at the time," Kathryn pointed out.

"Yeah, well I've grown up since then," Tom replied bitterly.

"So, let's see. Tuvok is planning a mutiny. He presumably came to you to enlist you to his cause and you came right here to tell me. Have I got that right?"

"I...um...I thought you ought to warn him," Tom mumbled.

"Have another cup of coffee," Kathryn smiled. "Oh, and I'm sure you've got room for another muffin or two."

Tom grinned at her with relief. He'd expected her to be angry that he'd come to see her in private this late at night. Instead she was acting like some kindly aunt, plying him with coffee and cakes while they talked.

"But..." he added hesitantly, "I do think it would be a good idea for you to speak to him before he gets anyone else riled up in this supposed mutiny. He's going to look pretty stupid when they find out *you're* FIA too."

"They?" Kathryn asked innocently.

"The other FIA on board."

"I thought you didn't know who the sleepers were," she said, pushing the muffins across the table towards him.  "You really should eat some more, Tom, You're looking a little thin these days."

Tom gratefully snatched another cake and chewed hungrily.

"I don't," he replied, licking the crumbs from his mouth. "But Tuvok does, of course."

"Of course," she replied. "Your father only shares personnel information with senior officers such as Tuvok and myself."

Tom nodded and stared wistfully at his now empty plate.

"You really *do* look thin, Tom," she murmured. "I think perhaps I should increase your ration allowance. Your metabolism probably needs better sustenance than you're getting from Neelix's cooking. Would you mind eating from your replicator more often?"

Tom blinked at her.

"I know it means you won't get as many opportunities to socialize, but as Chief Helmsman, your physical well-being is too important to the ship. You proved your value at the helm today."

She played with a large credit chip, rolling it over the table.

"Of course, if you *weren't* having to spend time eating in the mess, you could do me a favor."

"Anything, Captain," Tom breathed, staring hungrily at the chip.

"I suppose I shouldn't do this," Kathryn sighed, closing her fingers around the chip and pretending not to notice Tom's eyes flaring with panic. "Just because I don't like the man is no excuse to play games with him."

"Games?"

"It's petty, and beneath a Starfleet Captain," Kathryn said, "but I admit that I'd like to see Tuvok taken down a peg or two. The Admiral thinks he's so smart but, between you and me, I think he's a fool."

"Tuvok?" Tom breathed.

"He thinks his damned Vulcan logic is so infallible. It would be nice, just once, to let him learn that pride comes before a fall. He's just so damned superior, don't you think?"

Tom flushed and dropped his eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Tom. You probably admire him."

"I hate him," Tom mumbled.

"What?"

"I..I hate him. I hate the way he gives me orders but acts like he catches a disease just by being in the same room with me. I hate the way he calls me a whore, even though he *knows* why I'm what I am. He *knows* what the FIA did to me, it was *his* fucking...sorry...it was his idea and he makes use of it, but he still despises me. It's not fair."

"No, it's not fair, Tom. You're an FIA operative doing a job, just like I am. He's got no right to look down his nose at *either* of us just because he's too arrogant to understand that different jobs need different tools," she replied. "You're a fine operative, Tom. It's not fair that Tuvok takes such a superior attitude with you."

Tom sniffed and nodded.

Kathryn patted him kindly on the hand, then grinned.

"It would be fun, wouldn't it? Imagine your father's face when he finds out that Tuvok tried to organize a mutiny against *me*"

Tom shivered but gave a tentative smile in return.

"What...what do you want me to do?"

"Let's let Tuvok carry on making a fool of himself, shall we? Don't tell him who I am. Let him gather up his supporters. Keep me advised of what's happening and then, when it's too late, I'll come to one of the meetings of the would-be mutineers and reveal myself in front of them all. Tuvok will be left with so much egg on his face that he'll never be *quite* so arrogant again, will he?"

Tom laughed with nervous delight. The sound was so mischievous and childlike that something caught in Katherine's throat and she prayed, desperately, that she would somehow be able to cushion the blow when Tom inevitably realized that she'd played him.

How the hell could Tom have suffered all he'd suffered and still maintained such a dangerous naiveté? she wondered sadly.

It probably had something to do with the fact that his childhood had been stolen from him. He'd never been given the chance to grow and mature like a normal person. Emotionally he was still a fifteen-year-old kid who'd fallen into a nightmare one night and was still struggling to wake up again. 

~~~

"You're playing a dangerous game, Kathryn," Chakotay growled.

"Why? You think Tom will betray me?"

"Betray you? You've got him wrapped around your finger. I can't believe he fell for that routine. How naive is he? Why the hell didn't he see right through your 'let's play a silly trick on Tuvok' routine?"

"You tell me, Chakotay. This *is* the evil, manipulative spy you've been warning me about for weeks, after all."

Chakotay flushed.

"Strange, isn't it?" Kathryn continued. "To see how gullible and child-like Tom really is, I mean? But then, try and see it from his point of view. He was just a kid when his whole world was ripped apart, he was turned into a *monster*, he was forced to whore himself to Dukat, then *you* sold him out, he spent a year being sexually tortured in Auckland and then his father sent him to die in a Cardassian torture chamber. Then, next thing he knows, he's in the Delta Quadrant, hated and despised by everyone except Harry and I. Of course he's going to try and believe in me, no matter how far-fetched my story is. He's got to believe in *something* just to cling on to his sanity."

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's the only way to flush all the FIA operatives to the surface," she snapped.

"I don't mean the Tuvok situation. I understand *that*. I mean why are you continuing to let Tom think he's working as *your* operative? You're just reinforcing the programming his bastard father started."

"Ah. So now *Tom's* the victim here?" Kathryn asked, with a sly smile.

"Of course he's a victim. He's clearly been a victim all along," Chakotay roared.

"I'm glad you can finally see the wood for the trees," she grinned.

Chakotay glared at her, then his angry expression crumbled into confusion as he realized he'd just been defending the man he'd been trying so desperately to hate.

"Still feeling *nothing* for him, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked sweetly.

"You bitch!"

"I'm Captain Bitch to you, Chakotay. Don't presume to go all holier than thou on me. If you hadn't been such a bastard to Tom, I wouldn't have had to keep the masquerade going so long. Now, with Tuvok ready to fall into our hands, its too late. We'll have to make use of the situation then pick up the pieces afterwards and pray to god there's enough left of Tom to stick back together."

"What the hell are you going to do, Captain? All you're doing is flushing the FIA out, not dealing with them.  No matter what we *know* about the FIA, it is a legitimate branch of Starfleet. You can't openly arrest people just for being FIA, even if they *are* scum."

"No," Kathryn agreed. "But if they are all in one place, there *could* be an unfortunate accident, a small localized decompression perhaps with our transporter only managing to lock on to Tuvok and Tom before the disaster."

"You're a ruthless bitch," Chakotay breathed.

"This is war, Chakotay. If you can't stand the heat..."

"Oh, don't worry. I've done worse."

"I'm counting on that," Kathryn replied.

"So what happens to Tuvok?"

"Nothing. We pretend we never knew about the mutiny since his fangs will have been pulled...or...maybe the transporter isn't fully successful and there are complications. He travels the rest of the way home in stasis."

"I prefer the latter."

"Me too. My face is starting to ache with the effort of smiling when he's in the room. Besides, it makes it easier to deal with Tom."

"And what are your plans for Tom?" Chakotay asked, his voice brittle.

"I want to save him, Chakotay. I always have. But...and I mean this, so take heed. If he becomes a problem or a danger to the ship, he's going to end up in a stasis chamber himself. I won't put the crew at risk for him."

"That's what this is all about, isn't it? You want *me* to take responsibility for him, don't you?"

"You love him. You save him."

"I don't..."

Kathryn shrugged.

"Poor Tom. He's going to need *someone* when he finds out I'm a double-dealing SCC bitch. Oh well, I suppose I could find someone else to take him on. He's pretty enough that *someone* will jump at the challenge. It's a shame Harry is so straight..."

"Bitch," Chakotay snarled.

"Do I take that as a yes then?"

"YES."

"Good," Kathryn smiled. "Now we've sorted *that* out, tell me what happened on that freighter."

Go to Part Nineteen