It's pretty dark, pretty angsty and has quite a bit of superfluous Tommy torture... pretty much what you'd expect from me really <g>.  If you need more specific warnings than that, I'd suggest you give this one a miss.

This is a sequel to a story called "The Edge". It isn't *necessary* to read that story first but it does establish a relationship between Tom and Chakotay and, more importantly, an incident which created something that is integral to this plot. 

"Free-Falling" is set about a year after "The Edge", so Voyager has been in the DQ for about six and a half years but there's no Seven in this story, Tom has never had the bad taste to fall for B'Elanna and no contact has been made yet with the Alpha Quadrant.

It's my story, so I can do that <g>

 


"A race?" Tom said, leaning over the ready room table, his eyes bright with interest.

Gafor, the Verisian Ambassador, smiled in response. It was enough to make Tom's own smile falter a little. Despite having two weeks to adapt to Verisian countenances, they all still  found it a little stomach-churning to witness the number of sharp fangs the aliens displayed when they smiled. 

"Indeed," Gafor agreed. "It will be quite a spectacle. Our most exciting competition ever because we've thrown the race open to off-worlders  like yourselves this time."

"But how's that fair?" B'Elanna queried. "Doesn't that stop the race from being a test of piloting ability? If someone has better technology and a faster ship,  surely they'll win regardless of their own skill?"

"We have opened the competition to alien *pilots*, rather than alien technology," Gafor clarified. "All the ships will be provided by us, to ensure there is no unfair advantage given to any individual competitor."

Kathryn's lips twitched slightly at the look of excitement on Tom's face. He was practically squirming on his seat like a little boy, his blue eyes pleading for permission to enter the race. She spared a glance toward her silent First Officer and grinned internally at the look of fond indulgence on his face. Chakotay was too professional to speak up in Tom's favor, but it was obvious he wasn't intending to raise an objection to the idea of his lover participating.

Tom and Chakotay - Lovers. It had a nice ring to it. After years of watching the two men either snapping and snarling at each other, or stalking around with the pretended indifference of a pair of offended cats, she still found it indescribably satisfying to observe the unmistakable love and affection that now bound Chakotay and Tom together.

And all it had taken for that love to break through years of antipathy, was the pair of them dying in each others arms in a crashed shuttle.

Which, Kathryn thought,  just went to show that there was nothing like facing mortality to put things into perspective.

"We appreciate the invitation," she said, pretending to ignore Tom's wistful look, "but we told your people, when we offered to tow them home, that we didn't expect any payment for our help. We wouldn't have left *anyone* stranded in a crippled ship."

Gafor bowed at her over the table.

"My government are well aware that your actions were 'humanitarian', as you call it. Nevertheless, we sincerely regret the fact that our laws prohibit us from rewarding you for your kindness or even engaging in fair trade with you. We are aware that you expended considerable energy in bringing our ship home and it seems unfair that we cannot even offer to replace the energy you used. That leaves us at an impasse. One that we believe can be solved should you agree to allow your pilot to enter our race. The prize is sufficient trilithium to fuel your entire journey home."

Kathryn nodded. Even allowing for the work it would take to transform the trilithium into the dilithium their warp engine required, there was no escaping the fact that the Verisians were offering a substantial prize to the winner of the race. 

"I appreciate the opportunity," she said, "although, realistically, I don't see how we have a chance of winning. There's sufficient physiological differences between our two species to make me doubt Tom could fly one of your craft regardless of his piloting ability."

Tom opened his mouth to argue, but she gave him a swift, quelling look and he subsided with just a low mutter of protest.

"There's no guarantee of your pilot's success," Gafor said. "But  I can put your mind at ease with regards to physiological disadvantages. Our craft will adapt perfectly to your pilot's stature. Many of our pilots are female, and a number of our females are very short."

Harry Kim snorted loudly. Kathryn gave him a warning glare and he blushed and dropped his eyes. She felt her lips twitching again. Harry was right. It *was* pretty funny to hear Tom described as 'short'. Even by Gafor who towered over all of them by more than two feet.

"Even so..." she continued, determined to continue teasing Tom for as long as possible, only to be interrupted by the alien.

"I assure you, your pilot actually has a distinct physiological advantage over the other competitors." 

"Which is?" Chakotay asked, his eyes narrowing.

"The fact that he has already flown at warp ten."

Gafor's smug announcement was met with stunned silence

Kathryn swallowed heavily and tried to ignore the Verisian's two rows of pointed teeth and the way his smile made the  tentacles on either side of his face writhe like serpents.

Privately, she had to admit that the Verisians were just about the ugliest entities she'd ever set eyes upon. They were self-acknowledged close biological relatives of the Hirogen, and their height, bulk and general facial characteristics were the same. But the Verisians had snake-like horizontally slitted eyes and a secondary, prehensile jaw which was like a second, sharp fanged mouth located inside their first. The tentacles that writhed around their faces just added to the reptilian cast of their appearance..

"How do you know Tom has flown at warp ten?" she said, her voice sharp with sudden suspicion.

Gafor looked surprised, and a little dismayed, as though he'd expected his comment to draw them further into his net rather than spook them. "It was mentioned in passing to one of the crew you rescued, during his time upon your vessel. He was intrigued enough to mention the fact to his superior when he returned home, and that officer told me. Forgive me. I wasn't aware it was a sensitive matter."

"It isn't," Kathryn denied, though her cheeks colored slightly. "But what relevance does it have to the race?"

"Our ships are also designed to breach the warp ten barrier," Gafor said. "Though our technology is somewhat different. We have been experimenting with different ways of folding space  to instantaneously move from one point in space to another by creating a warp bubble around the hull of the ship. We call it a Gegahedron Drive."

"Sounds like a borg trans-warp drive to me," B'Elanna muttered.

Gafor beamed so widely that his secondary jaw emerged through his first and snapped its teeth in B'Elanna's direction. She flinched slightly, then glowered around the room as though daring anyone to comment on her reaction.

"We've done a lot of work based on captured Borg technology," Gafor agreed. "It does, at least, avoid the unfortunate side-effects of your own experimentation."

Kathryn's eyes narrowed at this confirmation that Gafor knew more about Tom's foray into warp ten than should have been mentioned 'in passing' from a member of her crew to one of the rescued Verisians.

"If your pilots already use this technology, why should Tom have any advantage in this race?" she demanded.

Gafor sighed heavily, his eyes clouding with irritation. "This isn't easy for me to admit, " he growled. "To date, no pilot has displayed the necessary courage to fully activate the drive."

"You're saying not even your own pilots have actually flown at warp ten, despite you having this Gegahedron Drive technology? No one's even *tried*?" Tom demanded incredulously.

Gafor chuckled at the amazed look on Tom's face. "You see what I mean?" he asked the room in general.

"We'll advise you of our decision," Kathryn said, rising from her chair to indicate the meeting was over,

Gafor frowned at her but, seeing the closed look on her face, he nodded and rose to his feet. "I'll send you details of the schematics of the drive," he said. "You can judge for yourselves that the scientific principles are sound. I would not expect you to make a decision on my word alone."

"I appreciate your consideration," Kathryn said politely,  and instructed Tuvok to escort Gafor back to the transporter room. 

Tom waited until Gafor left the room, then jumped to his feet.

"Captain, I want to do it. We can't turn down the chance at winning that prize."

"Sit down, Tom."

He pouted and crossed his arms defiantly, but silently sank back into his chair regardless. She appreciated being allowed a moment to ponder why she was suddenly feeling so apprehensive about Gafor's invitation. She couldn't quite put her finger on what disturbed her but, looking at Chakotay's frown, she was confident that she wasn't the only one who was having second thoughts about the race.

"Your thoughts, Chakotay?" she asked, deliberately putting him on the spot.

Chakotay gave his lover an apologetic look but shook his head firmly. "I was all for saying 'yes', until Gafor mentioned the fact he *knows* Tom's flown at warp ten already. That rang alarm bells.  It's all too convenient. My gut's telling me this is a set up."

"Explain," Kathryn said.

"We come across a ship drifting in space. A ship that is so basic in design that it doesn't even have decent shields. It has all the 'appearance' of having been damaged by a meteor storm, but none of the crew are hurt and they aren't jumping into lifepods. They're just placidly waiting for someone to rescue them. Almost as though they *knew* we were coming. They hitch-hike a lift home, obviously using their time on our ship to find out more about us than we realize, and when we get here we find out they're far more technologically advanced than we suspected. Far too advanced to have sent an unprotected vessel out into deep space.

"Then Gafor turns up, saying he wants to reward us but can't. Conveniently enough, the Verisians even have laws that prohibit straightforward trade with other races. But, co-incidentally, we've turned up just in time to enter Tom into this race. And now it seems that the reason they want him to compete is simply to test the limits of  their own warp drive."

"I agree," Kathryn said. "It seems like an elaborate scheme to get Tom into the pilot seat of one of their experimental ships."

"This is crazy," Tom objected. "Why would the Verisians plant that stranded ship out there in the first place? They didn't know anything about us until they got on board Voyager."

"Tom's right," Harry agreed. "Unless you're suggesting that the Verisians routinely do this kind of thing, to try and lure pilots of other ships to their homeworld, in the hope of finding someone who will push this drive of theirs to warp ten."

 "I think that's exactly what they do," Chakotay countered. "Look how many alien ships are orbiting right now. Want to make a guess how many of *them* came here initially because they found a stranded vessel?"

"I knew you're paranoid sometimes, Chakotay, but this is taking it a step too far," Tom said. "Can't we at least take a look at this drive they're talking about before making a decision?"

"The race is tomorrow," B'Elanna pointed out, reluctantly. "Even if they send the schematics immediately, there's no way I can make a full safety assessment in time."

Kathryn shook her head. "Sorry, Tom, but I agree with Chakotay. It seems as though the Verisians are simply looking for skilled but expendable pilots to test their drive. We have to assume the craft we 'rescued' was bait in a trap and, if that's the case, we know the Verisians aren't trustworthy. I think it would be best if we left Verisian space as soon as possible."

For a moment she thought Tom was going to continue arguing, but then he hesitated, glanced over at Chakotay, and turned back to her with a shrug. "Okay. You're the Captain."

She felt surprised and relieved by his capitulation. And a little guilty. In forcing Chakotay to air the doubts she shared, she'd deliberately used Tom and Chakotay's relationship to ensure Tom's compliance. Tom was undoubtedly feeling resentful.  Under the circumstances, it seemed only fair and prudent to give the couple a few minutes privacy to resolve any residual tension.

So she dismissed everyone else from the room and offered the two men an apologetic smile. 

"I really am sorry, Tom," she said, though  she made it clear from her tone that she wasn't opening the subject back up for discussion. "I know you're disappointed and the trilithium *would* have come in useful, but I'm not risking the life of my Chief Helmsman for a mere race. We'll be ready to leave orbit in about thirty minutes, gentlemen. I'll see you both on the Bridge when we're ready to depart."

She rose to her feet and left them alone.

 

~#~#~#~

 

Tom stared in disbelief as the door closed behind her. Then he turned towards Chakotay and, although his eyes were dark with resentment, his lips curled into a teasing grin. 

"Did you hear that? She just give you permission to do me on the ready room table."

Chakotay choked, coughed, and then snorted with amusement. "I think she's just giving us some privacy to talk about what just happened," he corrected.

Tom shrugged. "So? Let's converse horizontally," he suggested, with his best come-hither smile.

Chakotay cleared his throat and adjusted his suddenly too-tight uniform as the room's temperature seemed to jump 20 degrees.

"Tom, be serious," he growled warningly.

Tom's smile broadened. "I am serious. Think about it. We've done it in engineering. We've done it in the cargo bay. We've done it gadzillion times on the Holodec. We've even done it in every lift and  Jeffries tube. But..."  He paused significantly. "We've *never* done it in the Captain's ready room."

Chakotay swallowed heavily, stared deeply into Tom's hopeful eyes, made a command decision that a couple of *kisses* wouldn't hurt and huskily told the computer to put a privacy lock on the door.

Tom gave a whoop of triumph. "Weird day, huh? One door shuts and another one opens."

"What?" Chakotay asked, frowning his confusion.

"One of my fantasies bites the dust but, with a bit of luck, the other one's going to bite my ass."

"I'd like to do considerably more than bite it," Chakotay chuckled.

"Yeah. That's part of the fantasy too," Tom agreed happily.

"Have I told you recently how much I  love you?" Chakotay murmured quietly, as he pressed Tom's body  against the table and nuzzled his face into the pale skin of Tom's neck.

"That's nice," Tom purred. "But something's digging into my ass and it isn't what I was hoping for."

Chakotay deliberately rubbed his groin against Tom's, loving the way Tom gasped in response. "Does that feel more like your fantasy?" 

"It will do when I'm flat on my face," Tom hinted.

"We're on duty."

"So? Hasn't stopped you before, *Commander*," Tom reminded him, with a smirk.

"You're determined to totally corrupt me, aren't you?"

"Bit too late to worry about that, Tay. "

Chakotay snorted. "You might be right," he admitted.

"So are you gonna do me before we both die of old age here?"

Chakotay shook his head in mock anger, but his eyes sparkled, his lips curled into a slow, smoldering smile and his voice was husky and dark when he finally replied.

"I think I need to give you an attitude adjustment."

"Is that what you're calling it these days? Feels like a big 'attitude adjustment' to me," Tom purred, writhing his groin against Chakotay's swollen cock.

"Drop your pants and spread 'em, Lieutenant."

Tom's eyes darkened and his heartbeat quickened. He began to unfasten his uniform with shaky fingers. "Call me that again," he said breathlessly. "Tell me exactly what you're going to do to me now you have me at your mercy, *Commander*."

Chakotay chuckled fondly at the look of wanton desire on Tom's face but shook his head.  "We don't have time for *that* kind of fantasy, Tom."

Tom pouted slightly. "You *always* say that." 

"But *this* time, we really *don't*."

"Damn. I always imagined doing this with the whole 'bad-boy getting disciplined' routine. Maybe even with a spanking thrown in for good measure."

"You fantasize about me spanking you?" Chakotay asked, with a worried frown.

Tom blushed, but his eyes sparkled brightly as he grinned at his lover. "Just this scene. You get pissed with my bad attitude, haul me in here and give me the old fashioned Maquis discipline ."

"What old fashioned Maquis discipline?" Chakotay queried,  but his heart was beginning to thump wildly at the picture Tom's words were painting and his cock was definitely rearing in fascinated attention.

"Just work with me here, big guy. It's *my* fantasy.  I've fucked up big time, but I'm just giving you some cocky shit about it, so you decide you've finally had it with my attitude. You tell me that since nothing else has worked, you're gonna give me  'six of the best' like you used to do on the Crazy Horse...."

"I never..." Chakotay spluttered.

"It's a *fantasy*," Tom reminded him impatiently.  "So, anyway, you order me to drop my pants so I can *really* feel the punishment, and I'm so shocked by your suggestion that I do it. Completely forgetting I'm not wearing boxers. So there I am. Naked in front of you. You're kinda stunned, but you're too cool to tell me to pull my pants back up so you just pull me over your lap and start smacking my bare ass. And once you start  leaving those big red handprints all over my ass cheeks, you just can't stop yourself at six. You get carried away,  loving the way your hands are making me  bounce up and down on your lap.  So there I am, red-assed and sniveling, pleading for mercy, begging you to stop smacking me, and you get so turned on by this sudden power you have over me that you decide it's time to really show me who's in charge. You throw me down on the table and, before I know what's happening, you bury your cock in my ass and fuck the attitude right outta me."

"It's a *rape* fantasy?" Chakotay demanded incredulously.

"Oh, yeah," Tom agreed, licking his lower lip provocatively.

Chakotay looked a little disturbed. "I had no idea, Tom."

"Hey, chill, Tay. It's just a fantasy, okay?"

"I know," Chakotay agreed, with a nervous laugh, "but, at this moment, my own fantasy goes more along the lines of offering you a reward rather than a punishment."

Tom stiffened and pushed him away, his eyes clouding with anger. "Fuck you, Chakotay. I don't play that game."

"What game?" Chakotay asked, sincerely puzzled by Tom's reaction.

"The 'do as I say if you want me to love you' game," Tom snarled. 

Chakotay sighed heavily and drew Tom back into his embrace, his strong arms trapping Tom's resisting body against his own. "That wasn't what I meant," he replied patiently. "I meant I wanted to reward you for loving me enough to respect my worries for your safety over your own desire to enter the race. I just want to show you how much I appreciate the concession you made."

"Some concession," Tom said, although he relaxed again against Chakotay's body. "The Captain wasn't going to let me do it anyway."

"No," Chakotay agreed. "But you could have argued a lot more about the decision and made both Kathryn and I  feel a hell of a lot worse about saying 'No'. So thank you."

"So you're saying thanks for being so damned mature for a change?" Tom scoffed.

"Yeah," Chakotay said, with a rueful chuckle. "I guess that doesn't sound much better, huh?"

"Nope," Tom said, but he laughed and pressed a light kiss against Chakotay's throat. "So you really think the Verisians are up to something?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"Yeah." Tom agreed, with a sigh. "I hate to admit it, but what you said made sense. I still sure wish I could get my ass into one of their ships though. I mean, think about it, Tay. Warp Ten flight without having to worry about turning into a lizard."

"How do you know?" Chakotay pointed out. "The Verisians haven't actually tested the damn thing properly yet and they *already* look like lizards to me."

"You've got a point," Tom admitted. "But still...don't you want to know for sure?"

"Right now, the only thing I want to know for sure is that I'm going to get my cock into your ass, Lieutenant.".

Tom snickered. "Back with the fantasy, huh?" He didn't wait for a reply. He dropped his pants, stepped out of them and bent over the table, wriggling his ass provocatively in Chakotay's face.

"Do I want to ask you why you came on duty without underwear?" Chakotay growled, as he began to slick himself up.

"Only if you want me to ask what you're doing with lube in your pocket," Tom snickered.

"I *definitely* think you need an attitude adjustment, Lieutenant," Chakotay replied, pressing his middle finger against Tom's anus and burying it to the knuckle inside the tight flesh.

Tom yelped with surprise and bucked his hips upwards.

"Oh...What are you doing to me, Sir?" he gasped.

"Save the abused innocent routine for the holodec, Tom." Chakotay chuckled, removing his finger and replacing it with the blunt head of his cock. "I promise I'll play 'Captain and cabin boy' with you later. Right now, I'll settle for landing this shuttle safely inside your bay."

Tom groaned. "That's bad, Tay. Really bad."

Chakotay grinned, grasped Tom's waist for balance and steadily  forced his cock into Tom's barely stretched ass.

"Oh FUCK," Tom gasped, then clenched his teeth against the familiar burn of Chakotay's entrance.

Chakotay sheathed himself deeply inside Tom's tight heat, then patiently waited for the small gasp of breath that confirmed Tom had adjusted to his presence.

"You ready?" he asked, rocking his hips slightly.

"Oh, god, yeah. Do it, Tay. Fuck my brains out."

Chakotay snorted but started to move inside his lover in slow, deep strokes. 

"Harder, Tay," Tom begged, using his hands against the table to push his ass up to meet Chakotay's thrusts. "Make me howl."

Chakotay obliged. 

Tom was right about doing it in the ready room, he decided. The idea of making Tom scream with pleasure less than twenty feet from the command chair  was an unbelievable turn-on. It didn't matter that the room was secured and completely sound-proof. Just the idea that the entire senior staff were just on the other side of the door was enough to make his blood surge.

He began to slam his hips against Tom's buttocks, driving his cock deep and hard into Tom's bowels.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck," Tom chanted, as Chakotay drove into him, and Chakotay wasn't sure whether it was a commentary or an order but he was damned sure that if Tom could still speak in words he wasn't fucking him hard enough.

He tightened his grasp on Tom's waist and lifted him upwards and backwards until Tom's ass was at a better height for his thrusts. 

"Ready or not, here I come," he snickered. He pulled out, until only the head of his cock was inside Tom's body, then he braced his thighs and used his whole bodyweight to drive his cock back inside

Tom threw his head back and howled. Before the sound of his cry died in the small room, Chakotay pulled back and thrust again. He kept rhythm with Tom's cries of pleasure, timing each thrust to ensure a constant, ululating wail from Tom's throat and then, as he felt Tom's body begin to jerk and flail in reaction, as Tom's ass reflectively tightened around him, he picked up his pace so that they'd come together.

Inevitably Tom came first, his spine arching unnaturally as he threw back his head and screamed. But the moment his ass clenched down on Chakotay's cock, Chakotay joined him in his throes of passion and added his own yell of triumph to Tom's howl. Then he collapsed over Tom's back, his sweat-drenched forehead pressing into Tom's neck, and he licked lazily at blond, perspiration-soaked hair.

"I'm dead," Tom groaned, turning his head until Chakotay could reach over his shoulder and join their lips in a gentle kiss.

"At least you died happy," Chakotay quipped.

"Asshole."

They lay there for a few moments, catching their breath, waiting as Chakotay's cock softened and slipped out of its warm cocoon.

"I hate that," Tom muttered.

"What?"

"That moment when you leave me. I feel so empty... so alone."

"You aren't alone. You'll never be alone again," Chakotay insisted, his tone fierce.

"I know," Tom sighed. "But this moment always feels like... I don't know... losing a part of myself maybe."

"I know," Chakotay agree with a sigh.

They continued to just lay awhile, silent except for their ragged breathing, then Chakotay chuckled quietly.

"What?" Tom demanded suspiciously.

"I was just imagining us trying to spend the rest of our lives with my cock permanently inside you."

"Yeah," Tom said, with a low laugh. "I can see the practical problems."

"Speaking of practical problems, do you have any idea how we're going to get cleaned up and onto the Bridge within the next five minutes?"

"I'll lick you. You lick me. Then we'll use the replicator and order an odor suppressant."

"That's what I like about you, Tom. You can think on your feet."

"I'm not on my feet. I'm face down on a table with two hundred pounds of horny First Officer on my back."

"You complaining?"

"Never," Tom purred, and offered his mouth for another kiss.

 

~#~#~#~

 

Ten minutes later, the phrase 'be careful what you wish for' sprung to Tom's mind as he stared down at his abruptly unlit helm.

"Life support functions read normal. As do communications," Tuvok announced, "but all other systems are off line."

"So, it seems the Verisians are showing their true colors," Kathryn announced quietly,  her eyes dark with fury.

The viewscreen flickered with static and then the face of Gafor appeared in front of them, his smile no longer concealing his malevolent threat.

"Release my ship," Kathryn demanded.

"I apologize for our rash action, Captain Janeway, but we owe you a debt of gratitude and cannot possibly let you leave empty-handed. It's a matter of pride."

"Then just *give* us the Trilithium, Ambassador," Kathryn suggested. 

"I've explained that isn't possible," he countered, his smile slipping a fraction. 

"What exactly do you want from us?"

"We want Mr. Paris to participate in the race," Gafor replied. "That is all. Afterwards, regardless of the outcome, your ship will be free to leave."

"And if we refuse?"

Gafor shook his head slowly. "I really don't think you want an answer to that question."

"I see," Kathryn snapped.

"Is there really a race?" Chakotay challenged.

Gafor looked surprised. "Of course. Everything that I have told you about it is the truth."

"But not the whole truth," Kathryn pointed out. "For instance, you didn't tell us that participation was obligatory."

"If you hadn't attempted to leave, it would not have been necessary to raise the subject," Gafor pointed out.

"And are the other pilots being forced to take part too?"

"The majority of them are sufficiently tempted by the prize to make coercion unnecessary."

"Is the prize real?" Tom interrupted.

"It is," Gafor agreed, his expression solemn. "I give you my personal guarantee of that."

Tom turned in his seat and gave Kathryn and Chakotay a  wry shrug. "Seems we don't have an option. You may as well let me fly."

 

~#~#~#~

 

"As much as I hate being railroaded into this, I've looked at the design of this Gegahedron drive and it *seems* to be based on valid principles," Kathryn said. "But there just isn't time to examine it in detail."

Chakotay rubbed his eyes tiredly. "It's hard for me to be objective here, Kathryn," he admitted quietly. "The fact that the Verisians are forcing us to let Tom fly is proof enough to me that the drive isn't as safe as they're suggesting. Why force alien pilots to test the drive at all? The only explanation which makes sense is that the Verisians *know* it has a problem." 

"But what kind of problem? Why go the expense and danger of kidnapping alien pilots to test the design if they know it's flawed?"

"Perhaps it's not the drive itself that's the problem," Chakotay mused. "Perhaps it's their own physiology. What if they can't use it themselves but, instead of giving up on the technology,  they're looking for a species who can?"

"To what end? What use is it to them to find out whether someone else can use it if they can't?"

"A process of elimination, maybe. If they find a species with the right physiology to use the drive they can isolate the difference between themselves and that species. Isolating a problem is the first step towards fixing it."

"It's possible," she agreed. "Let's ask Gafor. The one thing I've noticed about him is that he evades the truth but doesn't seem to lie to us if faced with direct questions."

Chakotay nodded his agreement.

Kathryn opened a comm. channel down to the surface and Gafor's face appeared almost instantly on the ready room's viewscreen.

"Captain Janeway. A pleasure, as always, " he greeted her smoothly.

She ignored his greeting. "So the ship we 'rescued' was bait in a rat-trap," she challenged.

"In a way," Gafor agreed. 

"You've been lying to us all along."

"Only to a degree. The prize we offer is genuine. The winners of the race will receive the trilithium we promised. It's a generous prize. There's more than sufficient for you to power your entire journey to your homeworld."

"And the cost of this power is risking the life of our pilot? No deal."

"I assure you, your pilot's life is not at stake.  We are not the monsters you obviously believe us to be. Perhaps I should be entirely honest with you. This is not the *first* time we have held a race of this type and, in the beginning, there *were* a great number of fatalities. But  we have used the results of these races to considerably narrow-down the physiological parameters of the participants. We now have a very clear idea of the type of pilot who will successfully be able to deploy the Gegahedron drive's full capacity."

"What use is the drive to you anyway?" Chakotay demanded. "What's the point of inventing a form of travel that's fatal to your own species?"

Gafor blinked with surprise, then gave a respectful nod. "I should have anticipated your ability to unravel the reason for our unfortunate deception," he acknowledged. "You are right. The drive has proven invariably fatal to our own people. We should, perhaps, have abandoned our experiment as a failure. But we have invested decades of work and a considerable fortune into its design. Politically, it would not be wise for us to acknowledge failure. "

"But it *is* a failure," Kathryn pointed out.

"Not if we can establish the reason why some alien species can use the drive with minimal consequences."

"What kind of 'minimal consequences'?" Chakotay demanded.

"Minor side-effects such as nausea and headaches," Gafor replied. "Just temporary symptoms but enough to discourage a pilot from fully utilizing the drive unless they have sufficient motivation to proceed."

"So that's the reason for the *race*?" Kathryn asked. 

"Exactly," Gafor agreed.. "Without the stimulus of competition, a pilot is more likely to let himself be distracted by the minor discomfort of using the drive. We've found that pride, natural competitiveness and the chance of winning a considerable prize allow a pilot to ignore the temporary side-effects."

"And yet, you told us no-one has ever fully deployed the drive," Chakotay challenged.

Gafor's expression darkened. "A number of previous competitors have shared the physical ability to use the drive and the talent to fly the ships. Unfortunately, to date, it has never been necessary for the winning pilot to exceed warp nine to defeat the competition and none have had the courage to use more power than was strictly necessary to win."

"That's why you want Tom to fly," Chakotay mused. "Because you think he'll just slam the drive to maximum, regardless of what the other pilots do."

 

~#~#~#~

 

"The logical answer is to allow Mr. Paris to participate in the race, thus fulfilling the Verisians' demand he compete, but to order him not to win," Tuvok suggested.

"That would reduce the risk," Kathryn agreed. 

"What?" Tom protested. "What's the point of that? If the drive really *is* dangerous, it's possible that  using it at *any* speed could kill me. So, the way I see it,  if I'm risking my life then I'm damned well going to make sure the risk's worth it by getting us that Trilithium."

Kathryn looked at Chakotay for support, but he shook his head firmly. "It's a fair point," he argued. "Besides, I'm less happy about this than you, Captain, but  you know perfectly well that once Tom's on that starting line he won't be able to resist trying to win the race."

Tom shot him a look that was half-gratitude and half-embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Captain. But he's right."

Kathryn nodded her reluctant agreement. "It wouldn't be fair," she admitted. "It's bad enough that you're possibly going to be risking your  life without putting you under the added pressure of trying to obey orders that go against your nature. And I *do* believe that the Verisians are at least being honest about the prize. At least, based on Gafor's comments about past races, we can be reasonably certain that you won't have to fly at warp ten to win. "

"But what if the drive *does* work at warp ten?" B'Elanna pointed out. "If Tom can prove that its principles are sound, we have the full schematics, Captain. We could reproduce the technology for Voyager."

"We could get home," Tom offered, with a winning smile.

"Vomiting all the way," Harry muttered darkly.

Kathryn sighed and rubbed her chin.

"I'm going to agree to this," she said finally. "If only because I don't see any other viable alternative. But I don't want you to take *any* unnecessary risks. I'm not at all happy about this situation, Tom."

He offered her a wry grin. "Believe it or not, Captain, as much as I want to fly that ship, I'm not ecstatic about the idea myself. My name might be Paris but even I've got enough sense to know the difference between a gift horse and one from Troy."

 

~#~#~#~

 

Chakotay took one step into the quarters he shared with Tom and stopped dead, blinking with surprise.

The room was dim, lit only by the low amber glow of two rows of candles that traced a footpath towards the open bedroom door. The path was strewn with a trail of discarded clothing, artfully draped over the carpet in a progressive line of suggestion.  Boots, socks, jacket, tee-shirt, pants and, finally, lying directly in the doorway of the bedroom, a neatly folded pair of silk boxers forming a black cushion for a single red rose.

He swallowed heavily. 

Even the fact that he knew Tom well enough to know the boxers had probably been fetched out of a drawer and dusted off (since he couldn't recall Tom ever actually wearing any) didn't detract from the seductive impact of their message. 

He found himself kicking off his boots and creeping along the 'path' on cat-soft feet, loosening and discarding his own clothing as he moved. Dropping his jacket over Tom's and then draping each item of his own clothing over its twin as he progressed silently towards the bedroom. Until, clad only in his own boxers, he reached down and plucked the rose from its silken nest.

"Hi, honey. I'm home," he drawled, and stepped though the doorway only to freeze again at the sight that greeted his eyes.

Tom was sprawled face-down on the mattress, his hips raised by a pillow, his wrists and ankles laced to each corner of the bed with scarlet ribbons, and in the center of his butt-cheeks the head of a second rose protruded  from the dark bud of his asshole.

"Spirits," he gasped, his heart and cock both throbbing at Tom's wanton display. "What the hell is this, Tom?"

Tom chuckled and raised his head enough to tip his chin over his shoulder and offer Chakotay a smoldering smile. 

"I'm your captive love-slave," he purred. "Bound for your pleasure,  unable to resist as you enact your every desire on my helpless body."

Chakotay launched himself onto the bed with a low roar, ripping the taunting rose out of Tom's cheeks to reveal the glistening promise of Tom's well-lubed hole with one hand and tearing at the waistband of his boxers with the other. His erection sprung loose of the confining fabric and dove unerringly into Tom's wet heat as he sheathed himself balls-deep with one grunting thrust.

"Oh fuck," Tom gasped, as Chakotay's cock battered roughly through his loosened muscles and began to move inside him in a powerful, merciless rhythm. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck...."

Grunting, panting and swearing, Chakotay drove himself harder and deeper, until Tom's words transformed into squeals and moans, until the flesh beneath him was quivering and writhing in sweat-sodden pleasure, until Tom was bucking and thrashing against the bondage with each brutal thrust of his cock. Driving towards that single, mind-shattering moment of intensity when Tom's whole body arched and froze against his and then seemed to explode with pleasure. A scream ripping from Tom's throat, come erupting from Tom's untouched cock, his internal muscles clamping down on Chakotay in a series of shuddering contractions, dragging Chakotay forcibly into a maelstrom of pleasure.

He collapsed onto Tom's back, his weight forcing a grunt of surprise from Tom's throat, and lay there quivering with the shock of his orgasm, gasping for breath, waiting for the thundering sound of his own heart to quieten.

"Jeez, Tay," Tom sighed happily into his pillow. "You're such a fucking *animal*."

Chakotay chuckled and carefully rolled off his lover, reaching for the ribbons that held Tom's left wrist and tugging them loose.

Tom's head jerked up in surprise. "That's it?" he asked, his expression confused. "You've got me tied up and at your mercy, and that's all you want to do to me?"

Chakotay frowned and shook his head, too fuck-drunk to think clearly. "Huh?" 

He saw a flicker of obvious disappointment in Tom's eyes.

"What do you *want* me to do to you, Tom?" he asked, his tone puzzled and concerned. 

Tom closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again and gave Chakotay a wide, lazy smile. "It was fantastic, Tay.  You were great. How the hell could I want anything else?" he said, his expression so satiated and sincere that Chakotay sighed with relief.

He quickly unfastened the other ribbons and pulled Tom into his arms. "I love you," he murmured, nuzzling his face into Tom's sweat-drenched neck. 

"I know," Tom agreed. "I love you too, big guy. I can't imagine living without you."

"You don't have to," Chakotay growled, clutching him a little tighter, "because now I've got you, I'm never going to let you go."

Tom sighed with contentment and snuggled into his arms. They lay there for a few minutes, content to simply listen to the sound of their hearts beating together, and then, as always, it was Tom who broke the silence.

"You know, I love the way you make love to me. But, if you ever wanted to...I mean, if you ever wanted to *really* let yourself go, it would be okay, Tay. If you wanted to be a little...um...rougher, I wouldn't mind."

"Why the hell would I want to be *rough*, Tom?" Chakotay demanded, rearing away from him. "You think I want to *hurt* you?"

Tom shook his head hurriedly and pulled him back into his embrace. "I just meant...look, I don't know what I meant. I'm just talking crap 'cos you fucked my brains into jelly."

"Okay," Chakotay agreed, relaxing into Tom's arms. Tom uttered a whimper of relief and lapsed into silence. "Get some sleep, Tom. You're flying in a race tomorrow morning."

"Yeah," Tom agreed, cuddling against him and allowing his breathing to steadily slow into the rhythm of sleep.

But Chakotay lay awake a long time, and it wasn't only his worry about the next morning that kept him from rest. It was guilt. Guilt that, yet again, he'd successfully convinced his lover that he was too damned insensitive to understand what Tom kept trying to say to him.

"I can't, babe," he whispered sorrowfully, to the man sleeping in his arms. "I can't give you what you think you want.  I can't love like *that*. "

 

~#~#~#~

 

It was a sweet ship, Tom decided. A beautifully responsive craft with streamlined bow and steering so fine-tuned that it could turn on a nickel. 

Tiny, admittedly. Barely enough room for a pilot and barren of any of the necessities for long-range flight. No hold. No storage for supplies or even medical equipment. No weaponry.

But the fact that he was considerably shorter and lighter than the average Verisian at least gave him enough breathing room to avoid a feeling of claustrophobia and, as Gafor had said, the pilot seat could be adjusted enough to bring all the instrumentation into easy reach.

He'd flown her in several looping circles around the practice area, sliding her inside and out of a row of tight buoys with flashy professionalism and he'd even cheekily buzzed several of the other pilots who were evidently having more difficulty adapting their skills to the Verisian technology.

He loved the G-drive already. The slightest pressure of his fingers on the controls could flip the craft from stand-still directly to warp eight. Accelerating that fast *should* have turned him into a greasy smear on the ship's port viewscreen. But the only noticeable effects he'd experienced were a gut-churning sensation in his stomach , a niggling headache and an overall light-headed feeling of euphoria.

Actually, it felt a little like tripping on seriously good drugs.

 

~#~#~#~

 

"I don't like this, Kathryn," Chakotay rumbled, as they watched another tractor beam catch a ship that had inexplicably begun to drift away from the practice arena.

"Neither do I," she agreed. "That's three ships that have been withdrawn from the race already and it hasn't even started yet. 

"The Verisians aren't acknowledging my hails," Harry advised them, his voice tight. "All I'm getting is some recorded announcement that there's always a few mechanical problems with some of the ships."

"I don't think it's the *ships* that are having the problems," Chakotay replied. 

"See if you can get a lock on Tom," Kathryn ordered. "If the Verisians won't let us scratch him from the race, we'll withdraw him ourselves."

"Our transporters have just gone off line again," Tuvok announced.

"What a surprise," Chakotay snapped.

Kathryn chewed her lower lip slightly as she watched her First Officer. Instead of pacing up and down the Bridge like herself he was sitting in his command chair, his knuckles white as his fingers bit into his thighs in an attempt to harness the power of his rage inside his powerful body. He was quivering with tension, his face drawn into a tight scowl, his aura that of a pulsating black hole preparing itself to crush the entire Verisian homeworld if anything happened to Tom.

She decided that since she couldn't do anything to help Tom, maybe she should concentrate her concern on his lover.

"He seems to be doing fine," she pointed out carefully, as Tom's tiny craft cavorted playfully around those of the other competitors.

"He definitely seems to be enjoying himself," Harry agreed, equally cautiously.

Chakotay just glowered out of the viewscreen and ignored them.

Which was fair enough, Kathryn decided, since it was unarguable that Tom would enjoy the race even if the G-drive turned him back into a lizard. Tom was a seat-of-his-pants, grab the moment and ignore the consequences kind of man and though she'd hoped Chakotay would be a calming influence on his impulsive lover,  judging from the state of them both when they'd exited her ready-room the previous morning, instead of Chakotay's caution rubbing off on the pilot, Tom's influence was slowly beginning to corrupt her First Officer. 

Which was a good thing, really. It proved that their relationship worked.  The problem was that  she didn't even want to contemplate how Chakotay would react if anything happened to Tom. 

 

~#~#~#~

 

Tom had seen enough races in his life to know that the boldest starter rarely won. The ship that went barreling out in front just became the pace-setter who'd burn out his engine and then drift into obscurity as the more cautious, cunning pilots moved past him to steal the race. 

But Tom prided himself on knowing how and when to break the rules to his advantage.

During the practice laps, none of the other pilots had successfully jump-started to more than warp six. Coming out of that initial burn of the drive, the ships were erratic and liable to flip over. He was the only pilot who'd confidently slammed straight into warp eight and successfully ridden the rapids as his craft had emerged back into normal space. The problem was, after such a jump, he was too busy fighting a heavy sensation of nausea to crank the speed up again.  The jump to warp six was a hell of a lot easier on the stomach and so the pilot recovered quickly enough to program another jump to warp nine.

Calculating in his head, he figured that if he started from warp eight and maintained a constant speed he could *probably* keep his head-start even if the other pilots began with a surge to warp six and then accelerated to warp nine.

But the margin was too tight for comfort.

Jumping straight to warp nine was out of the question. There was no way he'd be able to handle the spin. He'd lose control completely.

Which left him with the option of warp ten.

Which was a beast of a different color completely.

Warp ten was...well, warp ten meant that he'd be at the finishing line practically before he'd even left the starting line.  Warp ten wasn't a speed. It was the shattering of every law of physics. Time and space became relative. The whole universe condensed to a single point of light and he would instantaneously be everywhere and nowhere. 

And it wouldn't matter if he was puking his guts out all over the helm or if the ship went spinning wildly so far into oblivion that it took him hours to recover and limp the ship back to Verisian space.

Because he'd have won the race.

~#~#~#~

 

"We've got a problem, Captain," B'Elanna announced as soon as she entered the Bridge.

"What kind of problem?"

"The Verisians have accessed our main database."

Tuvok peered down at his console and shook his head decisively. "There is no record of any security breech."

"The how come the schematics of the Gegahedron Drive have disappeared from the mainframe along with a number of medical records?" she challenged.

"What records?" Kathryn demanded.

"Well that's the strange part. The missing files are a random selection of unrelated documents, as though someone wasn't really sure what they were looking for."

"Why didn't they download everything if they had access to the computer?" Chakotay asked.

"There was probably a limit to the amount of data they could access without tripping our security firewalls," Kathryn replied. "Damn. I wish we'd made a back-up of the Drive details."

"We did," B'Elanna informed her, with a wolfish grin.

"Captain?" Harry interrupted. "The race is about to start."

They all swung their attention towards the viewscreen.

"Which one is Tom?" B'Elanna asked.

"He's...."

"FUCKING MANIAC!" Chakotay roared.

Kathryn was too busy gaping in disbelief at the viewscreen to even notice.

One moment two dozen tiny ships had been hovering at the starting line. The next moment they had all vanished into warp. The next, a sole ship had materialized at the finishing line like a neon-blue lightning bolt only to disappear off their viewscreen again in a streak of light.

"Was that Tom?" B'Elanna asked uncertainly.

 

~#~#~#~

 

"WHOA!" Tom gasped, as he wrestled the ship to a halt.

He waited for the nausea to hit him, for his guts to clench and spew vomit all over the helm, for the light-headed sensation in his brain to transform into the skull-pounding headache he'd suffered after his jump to warp eight.

Nothing.

Nada.

Not even a tingle of discomfort.

He'd proven the Gegahedron Drive, won the race and the only side-effect he was feeling was a burgeoning sensation of pride.

"Stick that, you Verisian assholes," he chuckled, and turned the ship around.

Checking his co-ordinates, he calculated that he'd overshot the finishing line by less distance than he'd expected. At warp six he'd be able to cruise back in less than an hour. He'd arrive just in time to watch the last stragglers coming home.

Life was good, he decided, as he put the ship on autopilot and closed his eyes for a well-deserved nap.

 

~#~#~#~

 

"We're being hailed by the Verisians," Harry said, into the strained silence of the Bridge. "They want to know whether we want them to transfer the Trilithium directly into our cargo bay."

"Tell them that would be fine," Kathryn confirmed, with a vague wave.

"The Verisians have restored full ship's functions to us," Tuvok advised. "Our transporters are working again."

"Can you get a lock on Tom?" Chakotay demanded.

Tuvok raised his head from his console. "Yes. However I do not believe it is necessary to do so. His lifesigns are stable and  he is currently returning to Verisian space at a more sedate pace than he left it."

Which was, Kathryn decided, the understatement of the year.

"You've got the bridge, Tuvok. Chakotay? My ready room," Kathryn announced.

She waited until the door closed then gestured him into a seat.

"Tea?" she offered.

"Coffee."

"That bad, huh?" she asked, as she programmed the replicator.

"It's more appropriate than asking for a double brandy," he countered.

"You can have one of those too," she chuckled. "God knows you probably need one."

Chakotay just grunted and reached for his coffee with a trembling hand.

"He's fine," Kathryn pointed out, as Chakotay continued to glower.

"I know," Chakotay agreed. 

"So why do still  you look so worried?"

"This isn't worry on my face, Kathryn. This is an expression of contemplation."

"And what are you contemplating?"

"Old fashioned Maquis discipline," he growled.

"Oh?" she asked, with an interested look. "Which is?"

Chakotay finally allowed his mouth to twitch into a smile.  "It's not you who needs to worry about it, Captain."

"Oh," she replied knowingly. "You're really mad at him, aren't you?"

Chakotay shrugged. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised he did it and I know that loving him doesn't give me the right to control his behavior. But it's hard, Kathryn. It's hard to be in love with someone who's so damned careless about his own safety."

"I know what you mean, Chakotay, but I don't think you're being fair. Tom plays the odds, admittedly, but he always has a good hand. He trusts his own instincts and he's rarely wrong about his own abilities."

"It only takes one time," Chakotay pointed out. 

"Yes," she agreed.

Chakotay rubbed his face and took a deep breath.  "I don't think I could deal with losing him, Kathryn."

"I know you love him," she agreed. "It's a wonderful thing you have together."

"Is it? Is it really such a good thing to be so in love with someone that you can't imagine living without them any more? I'm not so sure it is. I used to live my life in a safe place, Kathryn. I used to watch him from a distance, always wanting him but able to keep this invisible chasm between us. Then one day I asked him what would happen if I jumped off the edge of my safe little life and into his arms."

"And he said?"

"He promised to catch me."

"He did," she pointed out.

"Did he?"

"You can't be doubting the way he feels about you, Chakotay," Kathryn protested angrily. "Tom adores you."

"I know," Chakotay admitted. "It's just that...that Tom and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, particularly his own safety. When he does things like this I suddenly find myself free-falling without a parachute, knowing that if anything happened to him there'd be no one to break my own fall." He chuckled ruefully. "I guess I sound pretty selfish, huh?"

"No. I think you sound like a man who's very much in love. A man who's had a very traumatic few hours and who probably needs to take a little time for himself before Tom gets back to the ship. Go get some rest, Chakotay. It's going to take Tom a few hours to escape the party that the Verisians are planning on throwing for the pilots. Since we aren't invited, why don't you spend that time getting your feelings back into perspective?"

Chakotay nodded gratefully. "I'll do that," he agreed.

 

~#~#~#~

 

Tom decided there was nothing he hated more than formal parties. Particularly ones where the so-called guest of honor hadn't even been allowed to bring a companion.  He was simply paraded up and down the room to meet countless dozens of Verisian dignitaries who all greeted him with fascination rather than friendliness.

He felt like a canary in a room full of hungry cats.

The only up-side of the party was that it gave him an excuse to avoid the confrontation he knew he was going to have with Chakotay. Now it was all over, despite the Trilithium that was apparently already in Voyager's hold, he couldn't remember why he'd thought winning the race was more important than his own safety.

It didn't take much imagination to picture the look on Chakotay's face when he'd streaked his meteoric passage over the finishing line and he sincerely doubted the expression on Chakotay's features had been pride in his achievement.

Shit. He was a thoughtless, selfish bastard at times.

And it wasn't only the race he'd fucked up. He'd gotten *seriously* close to fucking up their whole damned relationship the night before. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd finally found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his damned life with and he still had to push for more than Chakotay was capable of giving.  So what if Chakotay wasn't the most imaginative lover he'd ever had? Why couldn't he accept the fact that Chakotay loved him *too* damned much to play the kind of games with him that other, less caring, lovers had been happy to oblige? Why couldn't he just accept that Chakotay's kind of love making was 'normal' and his own, darker fantasies were the products of his own less savory past?

Chakotay was right. Bringing that kind of shit into their bedroom would be like spreading the stain of his past into the present.

It just wasn't fucking 'normal' to have a body that was hard-wired to only get off on a certain level of pain.  He was lucky that Chakotay was understanding enough to accept that he only wanted to bottom in their relationship and had accepted, eventually, that he didn't want or need any stimuli other than a hard cock  to bring him off.

He was *damned* lucky.

He could fill a whole data PADD with the names of previous lovers who'd refused to take no for an answer when he'd said he didn't want them to touch his dick when they fucked him.  Lovers who'd taken it personally that he gained no satisfaction from their blow-jobs. Lovers who'd either been offended or amused to discover that the brash, confident Tom Paris could only get it up if he had a cock pounding inside his ass or his mouth.

Chakotay was the only lover who'd ever just accepted him the way he was and made him feel it was 'okay' to feel the way he felt.

And he still had to keep pushing for more. Like he had some fucking self-destruct button inside his head.

Just like he'd pressed that fucking control to throw the Gegahedron Drive into warp ten.

He'd be lucky if Chakotay even *spoke* to him when he got back to Voyager.

And the fact that his dick was twitching inside his pants at the thought that Chakotay might *finally* be pissed off enough with him to *really* beat some sense into his head just proved what a sick, sad puppy he really was.

Shit, he was fucked.

He was going to have to do some serious sucking up when he got back home. Or maybe just some serious sucking.  The thought made him smirk.

"You look as though you're enjoying yourself."

Tom looked up in surprise and flinched. Gafor's fangs were practically in his face and that was far too close for comfort.

"Um...yeah," he lied, taking a gulp of wine and trying to look sincere.

"And you experienced no side-effects whatsoever," Gafor continued smoothly. "Wonderful."

"Yeah," Tom agreed.  

Which wasn't strictly true. He *had* been feeling fine until the party but now he was feeling the first needling stabs of a headache, his stomach felt queasy and he was beginning to feel a little hazy and light-headed.

Or maybe it was just the unfamiliar Verisian wine going to his head.

And returning home drunk was definitely guaranteed to piss Chakotay off even more.

He extricated himself from Gafor's company and took a slow but purposeful meander towards the door. It took him several minutes to cross the room, but his unhurried progress meant no one paid any particular attention to what he was doing, so no one challenged him when he slipped outside and hit his comm. badge to request a transfer back to Voyager.

 

~#~#~#~

 

To his disappointment, when he materialized in the transporter room, the only person waiting to welcome his triumphant return was Ayala.

"You the sum total of the welcoming party?" he quipped, although he wanted to cry. Not one person had come to greet his return to the ship. Didn't anyone even care that he'd won the race? Or that he was even still alive? Didn't even Chakotay care? Was Chakotay *that* mad with him? 

His head was *really* starting to hurt. And his stomach, And, shit, if he wasn't suddenly feeling so tired he could just lie down and sleep on the floor of the Transporter Room and fuck anyone who had a problem with the idea of having to walk around him.

"You're an asshole, Paris," Ayala retorted, in his normal, taciturn manner.

Tom decided he was probably right,

"Chakotay pissed with me?"

Ayala just nodded.

"Fuck," Tom groaned. His gut was churning and his head was pounding and he *seriously* couldn't face a pissed-off Chakotay in this state. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes and he was feeling too damned tired and ill to fight them.

Perhaps he looked as bad as he felt because Ayala suddenly took pity on him.

"You aren't *that* much in the shit," he admitted.

He sighed heavily at Tom's look of incomprehension and consented to explain. "Everyone was getting ready to throw you a victory bash when we had an emergency in the cargo bay. B'Elanna's dragged everyone in to help with the containment field for the trilithium. Even the Captain's in the hold with her sleeves rolled up. That's the reason no one's here. The only reason."

Tom nodded gratefully and furtively wiped his eyes. 

"You look like shit, Paris. You'd better get some rest before Chakotay sees you like this."

"Yeah," Tom agreed miserably, wondering whether he could get to his quarters before he threw up. 

"You need a site to site to your room?" Ayala offered, as Tom paled and lurched on his feet.

Tom nodded gratefully and Ayala activated his console.

Materializing in the quarters he shared with Chakotay, Tom staggered over to the bed, stripping off his clothes and discarding them in a weaving, haphazard trail over the floor. He collapsed onto the mattress with a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and curling his body into an almost-fetal ball.

It was a mistake. The moment his head hit the pillow, the room seemed to spin around him as though Voyager's inertial dampeners had gone off line. 

He lurched back off the bed, his feet slapping heavily on the floor as he ran blindly towards the head and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet.

 

~#~#~#~

 


"How much did you drink last night, Tom?" Chakotay asked, his eyes soft but his mouth set in a faint line of disapproval. As much as he hated witnessing Tom's obvious misery, he was struggling to be fully sympathetic about a hangover.

Besides, it hadn't been a bundle of laughs returning to their quarters in the middle of the night, exhausted from handling the problem with the Trilithium storage, only to find Tom passed out in their bed and a trail of clothes and vomit on  their carpet.

"I didn't drink much," Tom protested. He opened one bloodshot eye enough to offer Chakotay a baleful glare, then groaned dramatically and pulled the covers over his head. 

Ignoring his whimpering protests, Chakotay firmly pulled the covers back down and pressed a hypospray against Tom's neck.

Tom exhaled a dramatic groan of relief.

"Better?"

"God, yes," Tom agreed.

Chakotay regarded his pale face and bleary eyes with a clinical detatchment. The hypo might have made Tom *feel* better, but it hadn't done anything to improve his debauched, rumpled appearance. "It's a good job you're not on duty today, Tom."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Tay. You sound like my father."

Chakotay paused and considered for a moment, then smiled apologetically. "I guess I do. I'm sorry. You were off duty so it's none of my business if you chose to drink too much and, well, I guess you had more than enough excuse last night. Victory celebrations get out of hand sometimes," he added magnanimously.

Tom muttered something under his breath that sounded like "pompous, condescending git". 

"This isn't about me trying to tell you what to do, Tom. It's just that I don't like seeing the man I love looking like he's…"

"I told you, I hardly drank anything," Tom interrupted. He scowled at Chakotay's arched eyebrows. "You don't believe me, do you?" he accused, his tone infused with a bitterness that had been long absent from their relationship.

"Of course I do," Chakotay replied quickly, hating the look of betrayal in Tom's eyes. He smiled placatingly. "I just think we have different definitions of what constitutes 'too much' alcohol." 

"Two."

"What?"

"I had two glasses of wine, Tay. Two. That's all, and I didn't even finish the second glass.  I had a couple of drinks at the party, started to feel like shit, made nice to everyone and snuck home. I didn't spend the night celebrating. I spent most of it here throwing my guts up. Alone," he added, with a pout.

Chakotay's expression transformed from mild censure to intense concern. He slapped his comm.-badge urgently. "Emergency medical transfer. Two to sickbay.  Authorization Chakotay one alpha."

"What the hell did you do that for?" Tom protested, as they both materialized in sickbay.

"Gafor said the side effects of the Gegahedron Drive were nausea and headaches," Chakotay replied. "Doctor, I want you to give Tom a full medical." Then his attention returned to Tom. "The Verisians contacted us right after the race and said you felt fine. They told us you didn't suffer *any* side-effects," he accused.

"I didn't," Tom protested. "It wasn't until I had a drink at the party that I felt weird."

"Your choice, Tom. Either you drank too much or the drive made you ill. Which was it?"

"I told you I only had two drinks."

"Then why the hell are you arguing about the Doctor examining you for side effects from the drive?" Chakotay pointed out reasonably.

"God, I hate it when you're right," Tom sighed, finally consenting to lie down on the biobed.

 

~#~#~#~

 

"Captain, I need to speak  to you."

Kathryn looked up from the PADD she was studying and frowned at her First Officer.  "What a co-incidence," she said. "I want to speak to you too. Call me paranoid, but don't you think it's a little odd that the Verisians are capable of designing warp ten technology but don't know how to create a stable containment field for Trilithium?" 

"Are you saying it was a deliberate attempt at sabotage?" Chakotay asked, his face darkening.

"No," she admitted. "I'd need proof to make a statement like that and I don't have any. B'Elanna's done a full spectral analysis of the storage containers and all she can prove is that they were manufactured to a flawed original design. If you accept *that*, then it was just an unfortunate accident."

"An accident that  might have destroyed Voyager and the whole crew, except for Tom who was conveniently on Verisian Prime at the time of the containment breach."

"Co-incidentally," she agreed dryly.

"A few too many damned *co-incidences* going on around here, don't you think?" Chakotay suggested.

"I think we need to get the hell out of here, Chakotay. I know I promised Tom the day off, but I want him at the helm when we head out of Verisian space."

"I don't...I don't think that's going to be an option, Captain."

Kathryn frowned and peered closely at her First Officer. "Is there a problem with Tom?"

"He was sick last night when he got back to Voyager. We were so busy with the Trilithium problem I didn't realize he was ill until this morning. As soon as I realized,  I took him to Sickbay.. That's what I came here to talk about."

"How is he?" Kathryn asked.

"Feeling well enough again to be driving the Doctor crazy," Chakotay replied, with a rueful chuckle. Then his expression sobered. "There's..." He paused and swallowed heavily before trying again. "There's an anomaly in his temporal lobe."

"What kind of anomaly?"

"The Doctor doesn't know for sure yet. He's running some tests.  It's like a dark shadow inside Tom's brain. A dead zone, he called it. It's possibly some kind of tumor."

"Shit," Kathryn hissed, her eyes darkening with guilt. "I shouldn't have..."

"Don't, Kathryn. The Doctor doesn't even know whether it's got anything to do with yesterday. The anomaly is in exactly the same place as the injury Tom suffered when we crashed the shuttle. The Doctor says it's more likely to be an after effect of *that* injury."

"But Tom didn't suffer any after effects from the accident."

"Maybe he did," Chakotay said, with a sigh, "Despite the presence of whatever the hell it is in his brain, he *says* he's feeling perfectly fine again. So who knows when this thing started to grow? He hasn't had a physical for nearly a year. This could have been in his head for months and its only because of yesterday that the Doctor found it. If that's the case, and it turns out to be something that needs to be dealt with, flying in that race might even have saved Tom's life."

"But what if it was the Gegahedron Drive that caused the problem? We can't leave Verisian space until we know for sure. We need to talk to the Verisians and find out whether other pilots have shown similar symptoms. If they have, their doctors might know how to help Tom"

"No," Chakotay said, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm not letting any of those bastards come near him."  

"I understand how you feel, but let's at least wait for the test results before deciding what to do."



~#~#~#~

 

The imparting of bad news was something Tom was too familiar with for him to be fooled by the calmness of  Chakotay's expression. He knew, from experience, that when someone sat on the edge of your bed and insisted on holding one of your hands in a deathgrip before they'd allow the doctor to come anywhere near you there was more than a damned good probability you were about to hear something bad.

Seriously bad.

If Chakotay's attempt to crush his fingers wasn't warning enough, the fact that the Doctor wouldn't look him in the eye was one hell of a shot across the bow of his self-confidence. 

"Look," he said, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence. "If I'm about to turn into a lizard again, at least tell me I'm not going to end up looking like a Verisian. Even a lizard's got standards, you know?"

And, he decided,  the pained way Chakotay attempted to twist his lips into a smile of appreciation for the joke was the scariest thing of all.

"Just tell me," he snapped. "I'm a big boy. I can take it."

The Doctor shrugged and took him at his word.

"You're got a tumor in your brain."

Chakotay exhaled a ragged gasp of distress and glared at the EMH as though he wanted to decompile his program. The Doctor returned the glare with an offended sniff, as though he didn't understand what he'd done wrong. Tom contemplated pointing out that his bedside manner sucked. 

Then, finally, he actually absorbed the meaning of The Doctor's words.

"I've got a tumor?" Tom repeated, his face draining of color. "A tumor in my brain?"

"It appears to be benign," The Doctor assured him.

Tom gave Chakotay a horrified look.

"He's right, Tom. I've seen the results of the scans. Obviously he needs to do more tests but it seems to be benign."

"It's like a dead area in your temporal lobe," The Doctor explained. "Probably due to damage caused by the impact wound you received last year. Its presence doesn't appear to be causing any adverse effects at the moment so, unless the tumor grows, I suggest we just keep our eye on it for the moment and see what happens."

"Why can't you just remove it?" Tom protested.

"Neuro-surgery isn't something to be taken lightly," The Doctor replied pompously. "An operation to remove the tumor would carry considerable attendant risks. I have to gauge the consequences of removing the growth against  leaving it untreated."

Chakotay squeezed Tom's fingers tightly. "Let him run more tests," he suggested quietly. "We can make a decision when we know what we're dealing with."

"Easy for you to say," Tom snapped.

"I'm sorry..." Chakotay began.

Tom sighed and shook his head. "No, I'm the one who's sorry, Tay. It's not your fault. It's mine."

"What do you mean it's your fault?" Chakotay demanded.

"It was the Gegahedron Drive, wasn't it? I did this to myself by trying to win that fucking race, didn't  I?"

Chakotay shook his head firmly. "No. Definitely not. The tumor is in exactly the same place as your old injury. All the race did was give us a reason to scan your brain and find it."

"But what it it's there *because* of the drive? What if using that fucking thing caused this tumor just because I already had a weakness in that part of my brain?"

Chakotay shook his head again. "Absolutely not."

"Mr. Paris could be..." The Doctor interrupted, but his voice trailed off at Chakotay's deathly glare of warning.

"This isn't your fault," Chakotay insisted, squeezing Tom's hand for emphasis. "Whatever this is, you didn't cause it."

Tom offered him a sickly smile. "Yeah, okay," he agreed.

If Chakotay needed to believe it wasn't his fault, Tom decided the least he could do was pretend to agree with him. After all, it was his own failure to put Chakotay's feelings first that had got him into the mess in the first place.

 

~#~#~#~

 

"Are you sure I'm not disturbing you?" Kathryn asked, as she stepped into Tom and Chakotay's quarters.

"The doctor gave him something to help him sleep," Chakotay replied, tipping his head towards the partially closed bedroom door. "As long as we keep our voices down, he'll be okay."

"I'm so sorry about this," she offered.

He shrugged. "We all are. The important thing is what we do next."

"I've spoken with the Doctor. I tend to agree with his 'wait-and-see' attitude. Regardless of how much medical progress we've made, the brain is still pretty much a mystery. Attempting to remove the tumor  is probably more dangerous than leaving it in place."

"Unless it grows."

"Like I said. We wait and see."

Chakotay nodded. "Tom thinks it was using the G-drive that gave him the tumor and, although I keep assuring him he's wrong, I'm beginning to think he's right."

"A tumor can't just materialize full grown inside someone's head," she argued.

"And, supposedly,  no one can travel at warp ten," he reminded her. 

She nodded reluctantly. "Why do you believe the drive caused the tumor?"

"Tom said that when he was using the ship during the practice flight, he felt nauseous and light-headed every time he activated the drive. He described the sensation as being similar to tripping on drugs."

"I probably don't want to know his frame of reference for the comparison," Kathryn chuckled.

"We were all young once," Chakotay retorted, with a wry smile. "Anyway, apparently the symptoms of sickness increased with every step of activation. Warp eight made him feel considerably worse than warp six, for instance."

"And warp ten had him throwing up all night in your quarters. So what's your point?"

"That the other reactions were instantaneous, but the side-effects of warp ten took hours to manifest themselves."

"And you think his tumor developed during those hours?"

"No. I think the tumor is like a fissure that opened up in his brain when he fully activated the drive. I think the drive literally fries a segment of the pilot's brain but, in Tom's case,  it only burned cells that were already dead."

"You think Tom's been walking around with this dead area inside his brain since your accident?"

"Tom died, Kathryn, and not even the Doctor could fully explain how he managed to successfully revive him. I remember him telling me at the time that humans only use a minute portion of their brain and that he'd remapped Tom's neural pathways around the injury site. That suggests an area of damage *was* left inside Tom's temporal lobe. I think the tumor is just a visible scar of a wound that already existed."

"And the tumor made him sick?"

"No. If I'm right, the tumor saved his life. The dead area became some kind of protective barrier that cushioned him from the worst effects of the G-drive.  It even acted like a sponge for the side-effects he *did* suffer, and that's why he wasn't ill until several hours later."

"It's a good theory. But that's all it is. The only way to know for sure would be to discuss Tom's tumor with the Verisians and see whether it correlates with their own findings. The must have autopsied the dead pilots, so they'd know if the Drive causes damage to the temporal lobe"

"No way in hell," Chakotay exploded.

To his surprise, Kathryn nodded her agreement.

"You aren't going to argue with me?" he asked.

Kathryn studied her hands for a moment, then looked up and met his eyes. " Did you know that only eleven ships returned?"

"What?"

"Out of the two dozen ships in the race, only eleven came back. And that's not counting the three pilots who 'withdrew'."

"So the G-drive *is* fatal and we were right about Tom and the other pilots being nothing more than expendable experimental rats. Fuckers."

"Ruthless fuckers," she corrected. "I think you're right about not telling the Verisians about Tom's tumor and I definitely think we need to get the hell out of Verisian space as soon as possible. Tom's the only person who's ever survived using the drive at warp ten. I don't think they are going to just sit back and let us leave with the only successful test subject. We need to get out of here while our systems are back on line. I'm going straight to the Bridge."

Chakotay jumped to his feet. "I'll join you. Just let me check on Tom first."

He knew.

As soon as he threw back the bedroom door and saw the empty sheets strewn on the mattress, he knew.

But he still calmly walked to the head and checked inside.

Then he walked back out into the living area and just as calmly announced, "He's gone."

He was incapable of anger or shock or even sorrow. All he could feel was the rush of air past his face, as though he was already  falling off a cliff edge towards a too-rapidly approaching ground.

.

~#~#~#~

 

"Our weapon systems are off line. Our shield has been de-activated," Tuvok confirmed unemotionally.

"So the Verisians managed to breach our security and snatch a member of this crew right off my ship without even activating an alarm?" Kathryn demanded.

Tuvok nodded his agreement, and managed to look embarrassed without altering the expression on his face.

She turned to her white-faced ops officer.

"Harry, I want you to keep hailing the planet until someone replies."

 

~#~#~#~

 

"I hope this is a bad dream," Tom quipped as he opened his eyes and found himself lying on a bed inside an unfamiliar room, surrounded by half a dozen Verisians.

/It's finally awake/

/Its so UGLY/

/It's so small and weak. It can't possibly have survived warp ten./

"Hey guys," Tom interrupted, as the alien voices clicked loudly over his head. "That's kinda rude. Anyone want to turn a translator on?"

/Is it a male or a female?/

/Gafor says its a male. I'm not sure he's right. We managed to extract some data from their medical records that suggests these humans are actually hermaphrodites./

/How unevolved./

/Yes. They're an interesting animal but definitely far down on the evolutionary scale. They have....visible external sex organs/

There was a communal gasp of horrified fascination.

"I'm starting to get seriously pissed off here," Tom announced, as the aliens continued to click at each other in their indecipherable tongue.

One of the aliens gestured his colleagues for silence and activated a small device.

"You are Tom Paris," he announced.

"Yeah?" Tom drawled. "Funny, but I already knew that. Care to tell me who you are and what the hell I'm doing here?"

"My name is Basor. This is my colleague Ensor. The others are just students at this facility, so their names are not important."

"What facility?" Tom demanded, drawing back as far as possible to the rear of the bed and wrapping his arms protectively around his knees.

"This is the Verisian Institute for Xenobiological Research. You, Tom, are our latest and definitely most prized acquisition, " Basor announced, smiling at him with unmistakable pride.

Tom choked, then shook his head in disbelief.

"You've got to be fucking kidding."

"I'm sorry. That didn't translate," Basor advised him, attempting a genial grin. Since it involved two sets of sharp-fanged teeth, his expression didn't translate any better than Tom's words.

"Translate this, you fucker. I'm Lieutenant Tom Paris of the U.S.S. Voyager and I suggest you release me back to my ship before my Captain decides you can acquire a prized range of photon torpedoes," Tom growled.

Basor turned to his students. "As you can see, until a new specimen adapts to its new environment  it tends to be hostile. At this stage, we have to deal carefully with the animal. Keeping a careful balance between a need to establish control and allowing appropriate compassion for its confusion."

Tom listened with growing disbelief.

"I'm not a fucking animal. I'm not a specimen and I'm certainly not adapting to this fucking 'environment'," he yelled. He judged the distance to the door, pressed his weight into the balls of his feet and sprang up off the bed.

Basor tutted and sighed heavily as his students scattered with cries of alarm. His colleague, Ensor, leapt forward to place eight foot of bulk in Tom's path, grabbed Tom around the throat and expertly inserted a syringe into his neck

"Let go of me you bastard," Tom yelled, kicking furiously at Ensor's shins.

"It's a mild paralytic," Basor advised his students, as Tom's struggles weakened until he was slumped bonelessly in Ensor's grip.

"You'd better put it in its habitat before it revives," Ensor suggested.

"I will," Basor agreed. "But I want to give it an examination first. Remove its clothing and I'll take a closer look at its physiology."

He turned to his students as Ensor began to strip Tom's unresisting body.

"Who can tell me the first things we can check to confirm an animal is healthy?"

 

~#~#~#~#~

 

"I  want the return of my Lieutenant," Kathryn demanded, the moment that Gafor's visage appeared on the viewscreen.

"I am sorry to be equally blunt. But we do not care what you want. Your pilot will remain here. It's been decided that he will prove an invaluable test subject. You, however, are unnecessary to our project so you are free to leave Verisian space."

"I am not leaving Tom. Find someone else to use as a test subject. We will use any necessary force to rescue him."

"He is not in need of rescue. We consider him a most valuable asset and we do not mistreat things of value. I assure you he won't find his life here onerous. We've expended considerable time and effort to find an entity as unique as your pilot. Our appreciation of his abilities will be reflected in our treatment of him."

"As your prisoner."

"As our... valued guest. We have gone to great expense to create him a familiar and comfortable habitat on our planet."

"A gilded cage is still a cage."

"Perhaps," Gafor nodded. "Nevertheless, the fact remains that his life here will be as pleasant as we can make it. We would not expect you to happily abandon one of your crew were we not to make that commitment to you."

"We won't abandon Tom, full stop." 

"I'm afraid that you have no choice, Captain. You have been more than adequately paid to compensate for the loss of one single crewmember of your vessel. In view of your inferior technology and the fact that you are, apparently, over fifty thousand light years from any chance of reinforcement, I believe you should consider yourselves fortunate. You have the Trilithium and you are free to leave in peace. We are being more than fair with you."

"Since your attempt to use that Trilithium to destroy us failed," Kathryn retorted.

Gafor shrugged. "There was a disagreement whether you should be allowed to leave and someone took it upon themselves to settle the issue. It's since been decided that you pose no threat so no further attempts will be made on your lives. However, if your vessel has not left Verisian space within four hours, we *will* be forced to employ force to remove you. Since you are technologically incapable of defending yourselves against our weaponry,  I advise you to leave peaceably, Captain. Don't sacrifice the lives of the rest of your crew in a pointless show of bravado. I repeat, again, we will not mistreat your pilot. We intend to meet his every need to ensure his continued health in our care."

"If you keep him, he'll die. He has a brain tumor," she snapped, and heard Harry utter a grunt of shock. "He needs *our* medical care."

"Our doctors have already examined him. They *have* noted an anomaly in his brain but they assure me it is not harmful. It appears to be scar tissue from an old injury. No more."

"What gives you the right to steal a person?" Chakotay demanded, jumping out of his chair and striding towards the viewscreen. "What makes you so god-damned arrogant that you can justify kidnapping someone and refusing to let them go?"

"We obviously regret your distress," Gafor replied, with an insincere smile. "But Tom has a unique physiology. He's the key we need to unlock the mysteries of the Gegahedron Drive. "

"If this so called 'unique physiology"  is an ability to fly at warp ten, there's nothing unique about Tom. I've traveled at warp ten too," Kathryn argued.

"Perhaps any of your species has this 'uniqueness.'  But, fortunately for yourselves, we only require one test subject and  your pilot is the only entity  who has already survived  the full potential of the Gegahedron Drive. Within his physiology lies the key to our own ability to use the drive. Somewhere in his DNA we'll find the answer we are seeking."

"So keep samples of his DNA and let Tom go," Chakotay suggested. 

"Regrettably, that wouldn't be sufficient. To isolate the exact reason for his tolerance of the drive, we will need to make numerous subtle amendments to his DNA and test his reaction to the changes in a simulation of the drive until we isolate the factor that gives him immunity."

Chakotay gave a choking bark of rage. "You're talking about testing him to destruction, aren't you?"

"An unfortunate term," Gafor chided, then he shrugged. "But accurate. The most efficient way of discovering what gives him immunity to the drive is by isolating and removing it."

"You just said you'd ensure his continued health. Now you're admitting you intend to kill him," Kathryn said.

Gafor shrugged again. "I didn't guarantee his immortality, Captain. But I promise that his life, in the interim, will be as comfortable as we can make it."

 

~#~#~#~

 

"Your habitat is an accurate re-production?" Basor asked.

Tom nodded reluctantly. The room was an almost perfect reproduction of one of Voyager's guest suites. It proved, if he'd still been in any doubt, that the Verisians had planned his abduction from the start.

"Very homey," he drawled sarcastically. "Shame you forgot to reproduce me any clothes."

"The temperature in this habitat is constant," Basor pointed out. "And it's far easier to judge your continued health this way. I have noted that your skin changes color according to your moods and that your sexual organ is a good indicator of your emotions."

Tom flushed with embarrassed fury. 

"Yeah? What's it emoting now, asshole?"

"That, despite your aggressive words and behavior, you are actually very afraid. I wish to remove as much of that fear as I can. We appreciate that your physical health could be affected by mental distress and it is imperative that you remain healthy. So I will do anything within my power to maintain your emotional equilibrium."

"You wanna make me feel better?" Tom demanded.

Basor nodded.

"Then why don't you and Mr. Happy there let me go? I have a crew waiting for me. I'm their pilot. They need me."

"Another can easily take your role as pilot.  You, however, have a far more important role to play.  I assure you that you'll rapidly come to accept your life within this Institute as you come to understand that your presence here will fulfill a far higher purpose than your previous existence."

Tom shook his head in disbelief. "I don't give a shit about your 'higher purpose' and you know shit about my species if you think I'm ever going to 'accept' being your prisoner. You can't just take someone and keep them as a damned pet, you moron.  Look, I'll tell you what. Let me go now and I'll tell my Captain this was all just some misunderstanding, okay? If I'm real convincing, she might leave at leas