Guess I Owe You One
Ensign Harry Kim stumbled along the night-empty corridor leading to the first officer's quarters. His lip was torn and bleeding, his right eye swelling shut from the beating he had received. Yet, he ignored his own pain as he slumped against the wall and pushed continuously at the buzzer, trying to gain the attention of the Indian Chakotay, who was asleep inside his quarters.
Chakotay swore as the buzzer drew him from the first real sleep he'd had since the destruction of his ship. Biting back a string of old Indian curses he pulled on a cloak to cover his nakedness and, moving to the door, he slammed his palm against the button, allowing the door to open.
Harry Kim stumbled into the room; he'd been using the door as support. "Chakotay," he gasped, as the older man caught him and helped him to a chair.
"What the hell..." began Chakotay, but Harry reached up and pulled him down, stopping any further words as he insisted in an agitated tone.
"They've got Tom," he gasped. "They said they were going to teach him a lesson."
All annoyance fell from Chakotay as he realised the seriousness of the situation. "Who?" he asked, moving towards his sleeping quarters and his clothes. "And where?" he shot over his shoulder as he hurriedly dressed.
"I don't know who," Kim answered, wiping a hand across his mouth and then staring stupidly at the blood smeared across his hand. Pulling himself together, he continued, "He was playing cards in one of the lower bars. He was winning and making bad jokes, you know how he is. Anyway, the other guys were getting really riled so I suggested that he called it an evening. He argued at first but then agreed, so we left." He paused as Chakotay came back into the room, now fully dressed. "They jumped us just as we were getting into the turbolift."
"Was it the men he was playing cards with?" Chakotay asked, his eyes blazing with intent anger.
Kim shook his head, then winced. "I don't think so. I mean, they got me from behind, then they bundled us both into the lift." He looked up at the Indian and apologised by saying, "It got a bit confusing, but as they were hitting us, they kept saying that Paris was going to be taught a lesson, that he had no right being on the ship. I tried to fight, but there were too many of them." He paused again, remembering the way Tom had renewed his efforts once they left the lift, yelling for Harry to get away. "Tom managed to distract them while I got away..." Kim swallowed hard; it had not been easy to leave his friend. "I was going to get security... then thought of you."
"You did right," Chakotay said, bending down to look the other man in the eyes. "It would be best if the captain did not know of this." Then he stood his mind once more turning to the problem at hand. "No, I will take care of this. Do you know where they were taking him?"
Kim was about to nod, then changed his mind, saying instead, "Level eight, section two. It's a storage area," he added for good measure.
"Go to sickbay if you need to, I'll deal with this now." Chakotay headed towards the door, but was pulled up short as Kim grabbed his arm, saying firmly, "No, I'm coming with you."
"You're in no condition...." began the first officer, then stopped when he saw the determined look in the other's eyes. "Alright," he conceded, "but you will do as I say, and stay out of the way."
***
The corridors of the Voyager were empty and quiet, but then at this time of night Chakotay would not expect it to be otherwise. The ride down to level eight was made in silence; neither man spoke, each thinking instead of the injuries that might be sustained by their impetuous friend.
As they entered section two, Chakotay realised that it was one of the larger storage sections, and it was crammed full of containers. Walking quietly through the alleyway between the containers, he could hear the laughing voices of the men as they tormented their victim up ahead of him.
"Bet you don't feel like giving orders now, do you Lieutenant?" came the bitter jibe from one of Paris's attackers. This was followed by a dull thud, that had to be a fist landing upon a helpless body.
"He ain't so smart-mouthed now is he, Pete?" came another laughing voice, which was followed by another dull thud.
Chakotay edged along one of the containers and quickly shot a look around its corner. The scene that met his eyes shocked him for a moment: Paris had been strung up by his wrists from a pipe that stretched across the room and was slowly spinning from the last blow, his feet dangling a few inches above the ground. Four men were clustered about him, each laughing and obviously taking turns at battering the defenceless body before them. Chakotay had seen enough. With his temper raised, he burst into the small clearing. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" he snarled in his best command voice.
The group of men stood frozen, each man's face displaying sudden fear. "He's only getting what he deserves," one man shot back, recovering from his shock, only to fall silent under the Indian's glare.
"Cut him down," Chakotay hissed, his tone as cold as brittle ice. "Now."
While three men moved to obey, the other - Chakotay took him to be the ringleader - hissed, "You can't give us orders. You're nothing but a damned outlaw." His words stopped the men cutting at Paris's ropes, but enough had been split for his weight to finish the job and he slumped to the ground, groaning on impact.
"I am the first officer of this ship," Chakotay shot back as he grabbed for the man who had spoken and brutally slugged him to the floor, snapping at the others, the heritage of his blood coming to the fore, "and if you don't want to find yourselves in the brig for attacking an officer, I suggest you get the hell out of here." His tone was steel and the others wavered, looking at each other, their fear tangible within the small confines. Having a bit of fun at Tom Paris's expense was one thing; being accused of attacking an officer was a serious offence in Starfleet's eyes, and the man before them looked very capable of sustaining any threats he made.
The man upon the floor snarled a curse and looked to his companions for support, but found none. Slowly he too wilted under the glare of the first officer. Finally, climbing unsteadily to his feet, he followed the others as they began to leave. As they passed Chakotay, he snarled, "If anything like this happens to Lt. Paris again, I will personally seek each one of you out. Do I make myself clear?" His voice told them that they would suffer worse injuries than Paris if he had to come looking for them.
As a man they began to protest that it was only a joke, a bit of fun, but Chakotay silenced them with another glance and they fled from the room.
Meanwhile, Ensign Kim had rushed across the room and was gently untying Paris's swollen hands. Tom whimpered as the returning blood burned through his veins. "We'd better get him to sickbay," Harry said, looking up at Chakotay, his eyes widening at the look of pure rage he saw upon the other's face.
Kneeling down, Chakotay rubbed at the hands, helping the circulation to return. "No, we can't do that," he said, before taking a deep breath and pulling his own emotions back under control.
"Why not?" Harry began, his tone flaring with anger.
"If you take him to sickbay, the captain will find out what happened. We can't afford to let that happen." As he spoke, he felt gently down Paris's body, searching for signs of internal injuries or broken bones. If he found any, then he would have no choice but to take him to sickbay.
"I think the captain should be told," Harry began, rising from his kneeling position, his intention clear.
Chakotay reached up and roughly pulled him down again, hissing as he did so, "We are seventy-five years from home, a mix of Federation personnel and outlaws, who don't really want to be together. Tensions are high at the moment, and we can't afford to have a mutiny on our hands. This kind of thing leads to that. Paris has been hurt worse for less, the word will get out that Tom can take care of himself and that he has friends who will help him. This won't happen again." Even as he said the words, Chakotay wondered if he was trying to convince Harry or himself.
"He's right," Paris gasped as he struggled to sit up. "If this gets to the captain, it will only turn more people against me."
"And what happens the next time?" Kim asked, unable to fully understand why they were unwilling to act against the men who had attacked Paris.
"Like Chakotay said, there won't be a next time," Paris said, still trying to rise. Harry and Chakotay reached with willing hands to assist him, until he sat, resting back against Chakotay, gasping with pain, as he faced his young friend's concerned look. He smiled, and winced as his bruised face protested. Reaching up a hand, he pressed it against the swollen lip, saying, "I got careless, that won't happen again. Those men are bullies, nothing more and nothing less. Every ship has them, you just have to prove that you are stronger than they are."
Harry Kim looked at the two men before him. He knew what they were saying made sense to them, but he was still young enough, and naive enough to want to punish someone for hurting his friend. Finally he had to concede that they were right and, as he watched, he saw Paris's eyes half-close as he slumped back against Chakotay; the effort of speaking was too much for his beaten body. Reaching out, Kim gently grabbed his arm, willing to say anything rather than cause his friend more worries. "I don't really understand, but I'll go along with it, if it's what you want."
"Thanks, Harry." Paris tried to smile but failed miserably. He suddenly blinked owlishly a few times as the world tilted.
"Oh no you don't," Chakotay said, pulling Paris to his feet, where he stood swaying, held up only by Chakotay and Harry's grips upon his arms. "I might owe you my life," Chakotay continued, "but I'm damned if I'm going to carry you through the ship. If you want to get to your quarters tonight, you're walking."
Paris didn't murmur one word of protest as they gently manhandled him back to his quarters, nor did he realise that they undressed him and tended his wounds. His senses finally fled as they rested him upon his bed.
Chakotay tenderly pulled the blanket up over Paris's sleeping form then, reaching over, dimmed the lights to the sleeping quarters. Turning, he followed Harry back into the small sitting room. "Will he be alright?" Harry asked as he moved cautiously to take a seat, his own bruises making themselves felt.
"Yes, a night's sleep will do wonders. I'll inform the captain that he's feeling unwell and get him off duty tomorrow."
"Do you think she will suspect?" Harry wondered what the captain would say if she knew the truth.
"I think she might suspect; after all, he's going to have some pretty impressive bruises for the next few days."
"What do you think she'll do?" Harry asked, reaching up and touching his own smarting eye.
Chakotay glanced at the younger man and wondered what the captain really would say, then pushing that thought from his head, he assured Harry, "She's wise enough to let the matter rest... this time. If it happens again, then we'll have to consider a different approach to the problem."
"Paris isn't really that bad, you know," Harry said in his friend's defence.
Chakotay smiled and looked away, stating firmly, "He has his moments, just wait until you get to know him better."
Kim glanced at the other man, but could not tell if he was serious or not. Then, realising that he might never know, he stood, saying awkwardly, "Well, I guess I'd better get back to my quarters."
"You sure you're alright?" Chakotay asked, eyeing the ensign's battered face. Kim reached up and touched his face again, then he smiled. "Yeah, I'm just naturally clumsy and walked into a wall."
"Alright, but if you feel bad in the morning, call me and I will arrange to have your shift covered," Chakotay said, moving with the boy to the door.
"No... no, I'll be fine... Like you said, a good night's sleep..." He paused, then asked, "What about Tom? Do you think he should be left alone... I mean, he got pretty banged up." He remembered the shocking array of abrasions they had seen covering his body: the beating had been severe, and he knew that Tom would be sporting more than a few bruises in the coming days.
"I'll stay with him tonight, just to make sure. If he gets any worse, I'll contact sickbay." Seeing the concerned look his words drew to Kim's face, he smiled and patted the man on the shoulder. "Go... I swear he'll be alright." Then he added, "I'll see you in the morning."
After the young ensign had left, Chakotay made his way back to the darkened room to check on Paris. As he entered, Tom said, his voice low and croaky, "Thanks, I guess I owe you one."
Chakotay smiled into the darkness, suggesting in a silken tone, "Let's just call it quits."
Paris tried to laugh at his words, but groaned in pain before he answered, his tone slightly stronger, "I've not broken any bones, my friend, so your life's still mine."
Chakotay looked down at the beaten, yet still-handsome face and offered softly, as he watched Tom slip back into a healing sleep, "I can arrange the broken bones anytime you want, my friend." But his words held no bitterness, and he was glad that Paris could not see the gentle smile that filtered across his face as he settled down in the chair beside the bed to await the coming of ship's morning.
THE END
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