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From: dronhovde@aol.com (DRonhovde)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: NEW: Voy - Hair of the Dog (1/1)
Date: 21 Mar 1996 21:43:20 -0500
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I'm posting this for Kit Montana, who has lost her web connection.  You
can e-mail me any comments you'd like to send her and I'll forward them.  

DRonhovde
========================================================
Dear gentle readers:
      Dottie has kindly consented to post this for me now that I no longer
have my own access to the "Net.  She has also generously agreed to pass on
any comments, criticisms, etc. you might have.  No flames, please.
     This story is rated G.  My thanks to Barbe, Suje, Dottie, Michelle,
Macedon, Peg, Jaeti, and so many others on this board who have been so
helpful and kind over the last many months.
Please, do not archive. 
             Sincerely,  Kit Montana

All characters and the Star Trek universe belong to Paramount; no
infringement is intended.  The story, however, belongs to me.

                                                Hair of the Dog By Kit
Montana

        It was a gradual thing that would have gone unnoticed to most.
        He first noted it the Thursday before last at the engineering
status meeting.  Her demeanor, as always, was perfect -- attentive,
intense, responsive.  But for a brief moment, when he cast a quick glance
at her to gauge her reaction to something Torres said, he saw something
unfamiliar in her eyes.
        He gave it a few seconds' thought, then dismissed it, thinking it
was some trick of light, or even his imagination.  But later that same
evening, at dinner, he noticed a slight droop to her shoulders and the
food on her plate remained unfinished.  Granted, it had been a
particularly trying day, with one of the gelpacs developing a leak and an
unexplained power loss in stellar cartography; but Captain Janeway had
always taken such minor obstacles in stride.  Indeed, she seemed to enjoy
each day's challenges.  Her step had a spring to it, her eyes a sparkle,
when there was a problem to overcome.
        So he took notice of these small, anomalous things.  He filed them
away in the back of his mind with the hope that they would gather cobwebs
and never need to be thought of again.
        But then, this morning, he'd had to call her name twice to get her
attention while they were on the bridge, and the embarrassed look she gave
him made him realize she hadn't heard a thing he'd said.
        These were little things; things that would have gone unnoticed.
        If he hadn't been looking for them.
        Chakotay had no doubt that Captain Kathryn Janeway loved being
captain of USS Voyager.  One look on her face when she stepped off the
turbolift at the beginning of the duty -- whether that "day" began at 0700
or 2200 -- made it clear that command of this ship brought her a joy few
could even imagine.  She reveled in the responsibility; in the authority;
in the freedom.  	She was the ship's benevolent despot, with control
over its operation and function and population.  A new system to be
installed?  She made the final decision.  A change in course, a mission to
be undertaken?  Janeway decided.  An argument that developed into a fist
fight?  Voyager's captain was the jury and the judge to mete out
punishment.
        Still, command wasn't something she took lightly; no one in his or
her right mind would.
So at first he thought the eternal pressures of her position were
beginning to weigh on her, that she needed a break from the crushing
24-hour-a-day, seven-day-a-week, grind.  He consulted with Neelix to
arrange special events -- a talent show, a concert, a rolling poker game
-- and there was little doubt the captain enjoyed them all, participating
with unexpected gusto.
        But still, the occasional shadow fell over her face when she
thought no one was looking.
Perhaps, he thought, she needs some liberty.  She needs to take off her
boots and run barefoot through the grass on some sun-flooded planet.
        He set Harry Kim to work to search out one.  It took a week, but a
class M planet was located.  It was void of dangerous animal life, lush
with blue-green vegetation, reminiscent of the old New Atlantis colonies. 
Janeway took one look and finally gave in to her first officer's badgering
and took a day off to visit the planet.
        She came back, face flushed with pleasure, arms full of flowering
plants for transplantation, and full of stories about unique geological
formations.
        And for a while, the shadows abated ...
        Chakotay walked into the Captain's ready room unannounced, as he
always did for their regular 0700 meeting.  As was often the case, Janeway
was standing at the tall porthole, "counting stars," as she put it.  In
one hand she held her ubiquitous cup of coffee; in the other was a framed
photograph.  He stood for nearly half a minute, waiting for her to turn,
before he realized he hadn't heard her come in.  He cleared his throat.
        She jumped, splashing coffee on her uniform and dropping the
photograph.  Unexpectedly, the glass fronting the picture shattered. 
Chakotay took a quick step forward to help her.
        "This glass shouldn't have broken," he said, puzzled.
        Janeway squatted down to pick some of the shards from the carpet.
        "It's an antique -- or rather, it was an antique.  Original glass.
 My mother gave it to me for my birthday years ago."
        She spoke without inflection as she piled most of the fragments on
the face of the photograph.  She stood up to place it on the desk
carelessly, as if its destruction were of little concern to her.  It
wasn't until then that Chakotay noticed it was the picture of her dog and
Mark, and than her hands trembled slightly.
        "I'm sorry," he said, gently.  "Would you like me to get it
repaired?"
        Janeway cast it a brief glance.  "No, no.  It's not important. 
Shall we get to it?  I have Kes coming in at 0800 ... "
        She moved to sit behind the desk, expecting him to take his usual
place in the chair across from her.  He stood rooted to the spot until she
looked up.
        "What is it?" she asked.
        He hesitated, and then spoke.  "Let me ask the same of you -- what
is it?"
        She looked bewildered for a moment, then blushed slightly.  "You
embarrass me, Commander.  I thought my shield was impenetrable."
        He gave her a slight smile. "It is -- to most; to almost all."
        She matched his smile and motioned to the chair.
        "All right -- true confessions here."
        She took a sip of coffee to give herself a moment to gather her
thoughts, to balance what she was going to say.
        "My birthday is in a few weeks ... my family always got together
for birthdays.  It was a family tradition."  Janeway took another sip of
her coffee.  "This will be the first birthday in years that I won't be
home."  She looked out among the stars for a few seconds, and then at the
photograph on her desk with its small pile of broken glass.
        "I'm just a little ... well ... homesick."  She gave him a sad
smile.  "It's not like we don't all wish we could go home."
        They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Janeway sat
forward in her chair.	"Right, now, about our energy consumption.  I
think we did pretty well last week, maybe we should consider increasing
the replicator rations ... "
~~~~~~~
        Sometime between inspecting the navigational array off the
starboard nacelle and counseling a straggling crew member, Chakotay found
time to visit the Doctor.  It wasn't a long consultation, but he left with
a smile and a look of determination.  He tapped his comm badge.
        "Mr. Paris, at your convenience, I'd like to see you in my
quarters."
        Paris, lining up a perfect shot at the pool table at Sandrine's,
wonder what he'd done now.
~~~~~~~
        "Why me?"
        Paris' voice was tinged with dismay, almost whiny.  Chakotay found
it difficult not to smile.
        "Because you're ... experienced in matters like this.  Besides,
you're the only one on the ship who's acquainted with the brig.  You'll
know what to expect if you get caught."
        Paris' mouth fell open.
        "Thanks a lot!  You don't think that's a good reason for me *not*
to do this?  I've done my time."
        Chakotay chuckled, then got serious.  "So who do you want me to
trust this to?  Tuvok?  Harry?  B'Elanna?  You know she can't keep a
secret worth damn."	Chakotay clapped a hand on the young lieutenant's
shoulder.  "You should be happy I have such faith in you!"
        Paris shook his head.  "All right.  I'll do it.  But where do I
look for it?"
        Chakotay thought for a moment, and then snapped his fingers.  "Her
liberty clothes.  She's hardly had a chance to put them on since her
mission started.  Be sure to vacuum the floor and the chairs, but I think
her clothes are our best bet."
        Paris shook his head again.  "I could be court martialed for
this."
        Chakotay grinned.  "Trust me, Mr. Paris!  I won't let anything
happen to you!  We're in this together."
        "That's what scares me," he said grimly.
~~~~~~~
        Tom Paris tried to look nonchalant as he walked down the corridor
toward the Captain's cabin.  He'd slipped the tiny power vacuum up the
sleeve of his uniform jumpsuit to hide it, but he still felt a jolt of
fear every time he passed someone in the passageway.
        Relax, he told himself.  Relax.  Chakotay will keep her busy. 
They'll be in Sandrine's for more than an hour yet.
        Getting in was a snap.  Earlier in the day, he'd circumvented the
security access codes in the computer to allow him into Janeway's
quarters.  He closed the door behind him and secured it -- although the
only person who might want to get in would be Janeway herself and it might
be a little suspicious if she found her own door locked against her.
        Paris pulled out the vacuum and thumbed it on.  It worked
virtually without sound as it sucked up dust and minute particles from the
carpet and furniture.  As he vacuumed, he looked around him, trying to
figure out where Janeway might store her non-uniform clothing.
        When he was done with the floor and furniture, he flicked the
vacuum off and opened her closet.  Not unexpectedly, it was immaculately
arranged, uniforms hanging straight, boots shined with the toes lined up
in a row.  And tucked far to the right, just as neatly aligned, were her
non-uniform clothes.
        Rather than pull them out -- and risk the possibility of putting
them back incorrectly -- Paris slid into the closet and turned on the
vacuum.  As he ran it over the material, the scent of her rose up around
him and he started.  It took all of his will to slow his pounding heart. 
Even when she wasn't here, she was watching over him.
        Fap, he thought, if I get out of this I'm never going to help
Chakotay with any of his hair-brained schemes again.
        He stepped out of the closet and tucked the vacuum back up his
sleeve.  With a jolt, he realized he had only minutes left before the time
he'd agreed upon with Chakotay.  And what if the Captain hadn't wanted to
stay for the whole pool tournament?
        Paris' heart began to pound again, and he opened the door to
Janeway's quarters -- and looked straight into the surprised face of his
Captain and the panicked face of his first officer.
Janeway placed a hand on Paris' chest and forced him back into her
quarters.  She crossed her arms, her lips pressed together in a hard
straight line.
        "So?" she asked.
        Lie! screamed a voice in Paris' head.  Tell her you were walking
by and in a moment of whimsy was wondering if the Captain wanted to watch
the pool tournament and when he rang the chime he thought she's said come
in and the door was open ... or tell her you were going to visit Jenny
Delaney and took a wrong turn into Janeway's quarters ... or ... fap.
        Caught.  He was caught.  And there was no way he was going to lie
to her.  If he learned anything in his life, he learned never lie again. 
But the truth was as impossible as a lie.
        "Uh," said Paris.
        Fury jumped into Janeway's eye.  "Mr. Paris, I want to know right
now what you were doing in my quarters," she snapped.
        Paris' eyes slipped to Chakotay's face.  The first officer stood
frozen, helpless. Unexpectedly, Paris pulled his shoulders back and stood
at attention.
        "Ma'am, I am sorry to inform you I cannot tell you why I was in
your quarters."
        Chakotay winced.  Bad to terrible to impossible in three seconds
flat.
        Janeway face flushed with anger.  "'You cannot tell ...,'" she
stopped, choking with the intensity of her rage.
        Chakotay reached forward and grabbed Paris' arm, none too gently. 
"I'll secure him in his quarters," he said quickly, a touch of hardness in
his voice.  "We can deal with him tomorrow morning."
        Janeway waved her hand, dismissing them both.  Anger, but also
disappointment and sadness, were reflected in her face as the two men
hurried out the door.
~~~~~~~
        Chakotay sat on Paris' bed, hands hanging between his knees,
shoulders drooping, as Paris ranted.  "Breaking and entering!  Court
martialed!  I'm going to be court martialed for this!"  Paris paced around
his quarters like an animal caged.  "This may be a record, you know.  How
many Starfleet officers do you know who get court martialed twice in their
career?"  He stopped his pacing and addressed the wall.  "Do you suppose
this will get me in the Guinness Book of Galactic Records?" he said,
bitterly.
        "You won't get court martialed," Chakotay said miserably.  "I'll
tell her I ordered you to do it."
        Paris turned around and looked at his first officer.  "You would
do that for me?" he said finally.
        Chakotay looked up.  "Of course.  It's the truth."
        Paris sat down next to him on the bed, their shoulders inches
apart.  "Yeah.  But ..."  He handed Chakotay the vacuum.  "Let's not have
all this be for nothing.  I'm pretty sure I saw some when I was going over
her clothes."
        Chakotay cradled the slim machine in his hands.  "Thanks."
        "And -- uh -- you didn't order me to do this.  I wanted to. 
Honest.  Just stick up for me tomorrow.  She listens to you; she won't
court martial me," said Paris with a sigh.  "And let's face it, Voyager is
short on pilots.  The ship needs me.  What can she do to me?"
        Chakotay's shoulders drooped even lower.  "Tom, believe me, my
intentions were good."
        Paris gave him a wry smile.  "I know.  But I want you to remember
something.  You owe me.  Again.  And I keep score ... "
~~~~~~~
        It was an unheard of punishment for such a serious crime.
        The bridge officers weren't privy to the specifics of the
"discussion" that went on in the Captain's ready room between Janeway and
Chakotay, but they knew it was spirited.  The conversation rose and fell
for more than an hour as Paris sat staring straight ahead at his pilot's
console.
        His day had started with an audience with the Captain and Chakotay
where he'd again refused to tell why he'd been in her quarters.  Paris
could tell the night -- and the fact that nothing was amiss in her
quarters -- had cooled the Captain's anger.  He hoped that this, and her
innate compassion, would allow her to go easy on him.
        He'd been summarily dismissed while his fate was determined.  And
when it was decided, they called him back in.
        Six months' holodeck privileges revoked.  Six months' replicator
rations revoked.  Six months' extra duty.  And when he wasn't on duty, he
was confined to quarters.  
For six months.
        But it wasn't a court martial.  It wouldn't even go into his
permanent record.  In six months it would be over.  It was almost, thought
Paris, worth it.
        It's to Paris' credit that he never brought that faithful night up
to Chakotay once during the month that followed.  Chakotay, for his part,
found numerous reasons to release Paris from the confines of his quarters
-- errands to be run to sick bay, tests to be done in the hydroponics
gardens, maintenance to be performed on holodeck two.
        The days passed.  Star system were mapped.  Class M planets
explored.  Anniversaries and promotions and birthdays celebrated.  Poker
games played and billiard tournaments held.  There was even a marriage,
with a huge reception afterward.
        And all without the exuberant, flirting presence of Lieutenant
(junior grade) Thomas Eugene Paris of Starfleet.
~~~~~~~
        "You want me to what?" asked Janeway, her face full of surprise.
        "Just for an hour, Captain.  He's been a model officer lately. 
And I know he deeply regrets what he did," said Chakotay.  
        And you have no idea how much I regret it, thought Chakotay.
        Janeway sat, closed the book she'd been reading, and placed it in
her lap.
        "I had no idea you and Mr. Paris were so close, Chakotay," Janeway
said with a touch of amusement.  "And to be honest, I have a feeling Mr.
Paris may not want to attend my birthday party.  After all, I was the one
who put him in hack."
        Chakotay thought quickly.  Paris absent from the Captain's party
was unthinkable.  What could he say to persuade her to bend the rules to
allow Paris to attend, if only for a hour?
He leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder.
        "Please.  An hour.  I think it'll mean more to him than you know."
        Janeway was so startled she was speechless.  "Er, all right,
Chakotay, if you think so," she said finally.  "But only an hour.  It's
important to maintain discipline.  I'm sure you appreciate how essential
that is."
        Chakotay sighed inwardly.  "Absolutely, Captain."
~~~~~~~
        The Captain held her birthday party in Sandrine's.  Paris'
favorite holographic characters were invited as well -- a decision made by
Chakotay.
        By 2000, the party was in full swing.  To accommodate the entire
crew, Janeway had ordered a special duty rotation so that over the course
of the evening everyone aboard would have a chance to stop in and sample
some of Neelix's birthday fare.  The result was a party that never lost
its freshness, with people moving in and out, some in liberty attire, some
in uniform, some exhausted from hours of dancing, some just starting
getting started.
        And the Captain held court, drinking champagne.  From her high
color and laughter, there was little doubt it was the real thing.
        Paris came in, still in uniform, just as Janeway was beginning to
open her presents.  The Captain caught his eye and gave him a slight nod. 
He nodded back and made his way to the bar, leaning up against it and
sipping beer from a frosty glass, never taking his eyes off her.
        Her mountain of gifts were mostly amusing tokens -- a hand-made
cushion for the Captain's bridge chair, a "bun warmer" for her hair, a
lurid pseudo-Victorian holo-novel written by the entire engineering
department -- but a few were so touching Paris imagined there were tears
in her eyes.  Replicants of the Captain's pips and medals framed in a
small case for her wall.  A hand-carved model of Voyager.  And last, a
piece of antique glass cut to fit the photograph of Mark and her dog.
        "Speech!" shouted someone to Janeway from the back of the bar. 
"Speech!  Speech!"
        Paris took a sip of his beer.  Ten minutes more and he'd have to
go back to his quarters.
Janeway stood, smiling, to thank her crew, but before she could start, Kes
came in, clutching a blue ship's blanket to her chest.  All eyes turned to
her.
        "Sorry to be so late, Captain," said the petite Ocampa.  "But
there's one last present for you."
        Kes placed the blanket into the Captain's arms, and folded back a
corner -- to reveal a squirming auburn Irish Setter puppy, so young its
eyes were still closed.
        "Oh ... my."
        Janeway brought the bundle of softness up to her face to rub its
silky head against her cheek.  A tiny pink tongue lapped her nose.  
Silence filled the bar.
	Janeway looked up to find the Doctor and Chakotay were standing in
front of her.   "How?" she asked.  "How did you do this?"
        "She's a clone of your dog," said the Doctor.  "There's some
genetic drift, but we were able to control it fairly well.  I don't think
you'll notice the difference --"
        "How?" Janeway repeated to Chakotay, interrupting the Doctor.
        Chakotay smiled warmly.  "We were able to find some dog hairs with
the follicles on them to get the DNA.  Kes and the Doctor cloned her. 
She's still on the bottle, but Kes said she'd take care of her while
you're on duty."
        Janeway buried her face into the soft fur, breathing in the
puppy's sweet, warm scent.  It smelled of home.
        "Thank you," she said, looking up into her first officer's face,
her own suffused with emotion.  "You have no idea ... "
        Chakotay shook his head.  "Don't thank me.  I had little to do
with it.  You should thank Tom.  He was the one who got the dog hair from
your liberty clothes -- I think you remember when he did that."
        Janeway turned quickly, to Paris, standing only feet from her.
        "Happy birthday, Captain."  He put his half-finished beer down on
a nearby table.  "I wish I could stay, but my hour's up."
        She placed a hand on his arm, caught between heaven and hell. 
"Tom, I don't know what to say."  She swallowed hard, trying to clear the
lump in her throat.  "This is the best present I've ever gotten."  She
swallowed again.  She wasn't sure if she could get the words out.  "Maybe
the most costly one, too."
        Paris looked at the squirming puppy she clutched in her arms, and
then into the tearful face of the woman who had set him free from a
lifetime of humiliation and self-pity.  Hell, he'd probably have ended up
a drunk in some bar if it weren't for her.
        Six months of bad food and long hours of work and no
entertainment?  
        He smiled at her broadly.  "It was nothing, ma'am." 

THE END