SMALL SACRIFICES

Title: Small Sacrifices, 1/5 
Author: Jaye (Copyright April 2002)
Codes: C/P NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek, Voyager and all related characters and
concepts are the property of Paramount. No infringement is
intended or profit made. This has m/m sex and implied (but not
portrayed) violence. If you aren't interested (or aren't old
enough), don't read it.

Warning: Angst, pain, humiliation, all in the past tense.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please
keep the text (especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail to:
Reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: The real reason Devore Inspector Kashyk didn't arrest
Voyager's telepaths at the end of "Counterpoint."

Note: I'll admit I don't recall the episode too clearly, but I
wondered how Voyager was able to leave Devore space without
being stopped for hiding their *own* telepaths. Kashyk met
Tuvok, and probably the others, while he was seeking asylum on
the ship. Even if he lost the shuttles full of refugees,
wouldn't he have tried to save face by bringing in Voyager? Why
was Voyager just able to go merrily on its way?

***************

PART ONE

SUPPLEMENTAL PRIVATE LOG, EMH OF THE FEDERATION STARSHIP VOYAGER

/This written, rather than recorded, log is a new experience for
me. Sadly, in the last few days it seems I have done many things
for the first time./

/I would have forced memory suppression on an unwilling subject.
I did use my scientific and medical skills to find ammunition
for blackmail. If I hadn't found it, I would have falsified
records to manufacture it. I deliberately withheld vital
information from my Captain./

/More damningly, I aided and abetted a plan that resulted in the
injury and abuse of someone under my care. And when
circumstances dictated, I failed to protest when that person
returned to the situation that caused them to need medical
treatment in the first place./

/Finally, I have agreed to keep the record of these events and
their consequences limited to the written account contained on
this padd. The ship's logs will never reflect the full truth of
the Devore incident. The involved Voyager Crewmember (hereafter
referred to as VC) will have an incomplete personal medical
history, as it will not list the wounds sustained in service to
this ship and its crew. I truly regret no one else is likely to
ever learn of his actions, or the true price we paid to be free
of Devore space./

***********

/Not long after Kashyk came aboard to stay, Captain Janeway
outlined her plan. Despite their mutual attraction, the Captain
did not believe the Inspector was sincere in his quest for
asylum. Therefore, she would provide a distraction while the
refugee telepaths took two of our shuttles through the hidden
wormhole./

/It was a risky plan, but a necessary one. Unfortunately, the
Captain had merely issued orders without first seeking her
officers' input. Perhaps one of them would have foreseen the
flaw in her scheme, and saved me from writing this log entirely.
We will never know./

/VC originally approached me to ask about memory suppression for
Kashyk. He was concerned that the Captain's plan only provided
for the refugees' escape. Voyager would still be stuck in Devore
space, vulnerable to being detained and searched once more.
Kashyk had already met the Vulcans, and doubtless figured out
why they were absent from earlier inspections. So even if the
Captain's plot succeeded, at best Voyager would lose its
telepaths; at worst the crew faced imprisonment or even death./

/VC hoped to make Kashyk forget he had ever met our telepaths. A
mind-meld would have done the job, but would leave telltale
signs. We secretly hacked into the information gathered during
our time in Devore space. Unfortunately, it revealed that any
metabolic agents I had access to would be toxic to Devore
physiology. We were stymied, as an operation would have been as
obvious as a mind-meld./

/I tinkered with formulas to try to synthesize a memory
suppressant that wouldn't kill Kashyk, while VC researched
Devore culture and read the inspector's personal records.
Suddenly I heard,/ "Perhaps..."

/I felt the first spark of hope as I moved to read over VC's
shoulder./ "Do you have something?"

"Maybe. Look at Kashyk's record. No one has been more devoted to
eradicating telepaths---he's practically a fanatic."

"So?"

"So, he's a little *too* perfect. If I remember my history
correctly, such obvious devotion to a cause often means a person
has something to hide."

VC thought a moment. "Doctor, would you be able to enhance our
genetic screens to check if Kashyk is something like a
borderline telepath, maybe a touch empath?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I'm not sure. The black gloves, or the way he invades others'
space. It could even be less than that, maybe he is simply some
kind of carrier."

"The potential father of a telepath? How would I test for that?"

"I don't know, you're the doctor."

/I would have bristled at VC's attitude, but we were both tense
with the knowledge that time was running out. Besides, we had a
much larger problem./ "Even if I *can* come up with such tests,
we don't have any of Kashyk's DNA." /It suddenly struck
me---/"You might be on to something. He's so careful to recycle
everything he touches, it's as though he doesn't want to leave a
trail."

"Yes, but we need that sample." VC read Kashyk's record once
more, then rose with a grim expression. "Just get those tests
ready."

************

/VC did not return. With my usual brill---no, this is not a time
for boasting. Based on comparisons of the refugees' DNA and the
"pure" Devore samples on record, I had devised several screens
that should reveal latent markers for telepathy or DNA altered
to hide the same./

/I am ashamed to admit I was pacing Sickbay, muttering
imprecations about VC making me hurry up and wait. I was shocked
out of my ramblings as the computer announced a privacy lock,
followed by a transport. VC appeared in the middle of the room,
immediately falling to his knees. As I reached forward he held
up a hand, shaking his head./

/He levered himself up painfully, then reached for a small
specimen basin. He spit blood and other fluid into it, then
leaned shakily against the bed as he began unbuttoning his dark
outfit./ "You'll have to...collect...the other sample." His
voice sounded strange, thick. I started to reach for a
tricorder, but as VC's clothes fell I froze./

/I understood now what he meant. Blood had dripped down his
thighs and it was easy to see where the flow had originated. In
addition I could detect the shadows of bruises mottling the skin
from neck to knees. There were also what looked to be deep
scratches. I finally shook myself and grabbed a specimen kit. I
didn't have time to waste arguing that the sample could wait./

/I noted the extent of the damage as I sealed the bloodied swabs
in their casing. The tricorder confirmed it: several tears, a
few quite deep in the channel. The same types of wounds had
scored VC's mouth and throat. The deep bruising in the rectal
area and around his neck were consistent with violent rape,
while lacerations and blunt trauma marks indicated a beating at
experienced hands./

/We were silent as I repaired the injuries; it took quite some
time. I finished with a general antibiotic, pain reliever and
vitamin shot. VC cleaned up and redressed. I realized then how
well the dark fabric hid the blood. I indicated the cloth and
quietly asked,/ "How did you know?"

"The records." /VC's tones still sounded huskier than usual;
considering the damage, I wasn't surprised./ "The signs were
there. His subordinates have a high turnover rate, and his wife
headed back to the home planet as soon as she was pregnant.
Kashyk enjoys his power too much." /VC indicated my samples./
"Will those be sufficient?"

"They'd better," /I could hear the anger in my own voice./ "The
bastard certainly charged enough for them."

"I didn't know he was barbed." /VC straightened./ "You do
understand that this stays between us, Doctor. I think Kashyk
does have some ability. When he...I could feel him trying to
push into my mind. The Captain can't know; if he gets a hint of
the situation before her plan is in motion none of us will
survive."

"If you insist. I have come up with some tests that may give us
the information we need. I also looked into Devore procedures
for condemning telepaths; if we're going to threaten Kashyk
we'll have to match those standards."

"Good thinking." /As VC walked to the door I was amazed how well
he hid the considerable pain he must still be in. His shift
started in a few hours; I wondered how he would make it through
the day./

********

/I regret to say that all of our efforts still fell short. The
tests *did* show latent empathic ability and attempts to mask
it, but the large amount of VC's alien blood mixed with the
samples was enough to discredit it by Devore standards. VC
arrived after shift and inquired after my results./

/He was quiet for a long moment, giving no hint of his
thoughts./ "We have proof, but we need untainted samples to back
it up?"

"Yes, but---"

"Thank you, Doctor. I would appreciate if you remained on duty."
/Then he departed once more./

*********

/While yesterday I paced in irritation, tonight dread kept me
moving as I tried to flee the tauntings of my conscience. My
fundamental nature had been programmed with the oath to do no
harm, yet I had done nothing to stop VC. Despite knowing what he
was likely to suffer at Kashyk's hands./

/It would have been futile to argue (the logical course of
action was clear to both of us), but the fact that I didn't even
bother to raise a protest disturbed me deeply. And yet, in the
end, what else could I do? Sacrifice the lives of the several to
spare the pain of the one? Finally, the privacy lock sounded and
VC shimmered into Sickbay./

/If I had been organic, I would have vomited. VC was curled up,
fetal position, naked and bleeding. He'd been beaten more badly
than before. And the stench.../

/I swiftly grabbed my swabs, knowing I wouldn't be allowed to
begin the healing until we had our proof. I called for brighter
lights and took extra care that the samples would be pure. There
was saliva still glistening around several bites, semen on VC's
face and throat, and urine staining his back. More than enough
of all three to give us ample proof. I finished as quickly as
possible, then began to catalog the injuries. The bruising and
tears were more intensive, and the beating much, much worse.
Both kidneys and the spleen were bruised, three ribs cracked,
nose broken and both eyes swollen. His wrists and ankles were
rubbed raw. He'd also lost a fair amount of blood from the
tearing and bites. The only bright spot was that there seemed to
be no sign of infection./

/I noticed VC flinch ever so slightly from my touch as I worked,
but I assumed that was a natural reaction to his experiences. It
was only after he was clean and dressed in a new uniform that VC
disclosed the full extent of the trauma./

"Doctor, you need to confirm the test results as soon as
possible," /he said, voice still weak as he slowly sipped
water./ "Kashyk is an empath...a powerful one. He got past my
walls..." /He stopped for a moment, then the cool professional
mask settled again./ "As soon as the shuttles are away you'll
have to present Kashyk our terms: he lets Voyager go in peace
with everyone aboard, or you'll reveal that the top Devore
telepath-hunter is, in fact, a carefully disguised empath
himself. If you word the threat carefully enough, he should
still be in the dark about the Captain's original plan."

/I was stunned./ "You want *me* to approach him?"

"Yes. You'll be safe if he tries anything. You also must make it
very clear that despite appearances, he will not be left alone
with anyone, particularly the Captain. He will be under
surveillance at all times. One wrong step and he will be
transported to the brig."

"Will he know that you were the source of our evidence?"

"It doesn't matter. He won't mention anything even if he does
figure it out. It's more important to maintain his cover than to
succeed in this hunt. He can't risk the chance we'll expose
him."

"Very well." /I looked at VC carefully. You couldn't tell he'd
been ripped open by a monster, mentally and physically, barely
an hour before./ "I will deliver our ultimatum as soon as I
can."

/He nodded./ "Keep me informed." /And then he was gone again. To
this day, he has never told me what actually passed between
himself and Kashyk./

/Now that Captain Janeway's plan (with VC's hard-bought
insurance) has successfully concluded, I asked VC to speak to
the Captain. He has refused, so here it ends. But I will be
keeping an eye on him, and assist him however I can in his
recovery./

END LOG

************************************************************ ***
************************************************************ ***

Tom Paris's hands were shaking and his face wet with tears as he
finally laid the padd to rest. He felt bile rise again, but
there was nothing left. He'd already thrown up all he had
already.

He'd opened it accidentally. Things had been so tense with all
of Kashyk's inspections that he'd fallen behind on his reports.
The shift in Sickbay the day after they finally moved out of
Devore range was the perfect opportunity to catch up. The EMH's
padd got mixed in with his own when he'd left at the end of the
day. After dinner in his quarters he decided to get everything
finished, and flipped on the nondescript device.

The first few lines had intrigued Tom, but the text soon had his
stomach roiling. He'd lost his meal by the time he'd finished
the first description of the man's injuries. It hit a little too
close to home. He was shuddering by the time he'd reached the
end.

Tom flashed back to Auckland and the few times he'd gotten
caught by himself in the wrong place. It took long moments to
calm his breathing, but eventually he settled down and took a
little time to remember how far he'd come since then.

***********

The turning point had come fairly early in Voyager's journey,
when he'd still spent every minute looking over his shoulder.
He'd been sent on an errand to the lower decks, and every hair
on his body was standing on end. Tom knew what waited for him
around the next corner. He froze, back pressed against the wall,
when angry voices sounded in the other corridor.

He'd been shocked into risking a glance when he'd heard the
unmistakable noises of flesh impacting on flesh. His jaw had
dropped at the sight.

Six burly Maquis lay sprawled on the gray carpet or slumped
against the walls, groaning and rubbing various bleeding,
bruised body parts. Chakotay, dressed in casual clothes, stood
glowering above them. He wasn't even breathing hard. The
Commander's stone-cold tone and eyes sent chills down Tom's
spine as he continued to eavesdrop.

"I am only going to say this once, so you'd better pass the
word." Chakotay regarded each man in turn. "Tom Paris is under
my protection. That means if you go after him, you deal with me.
And since you cowards couldn't even face him one on one, I'm
holding all of you responsible for everyone on this ship. Maquis
*and* 'Fleet. If Paris's quarters are trashed, I come to you. He
'slips in the shower,' I come to you. *Anyone* lays a finger on
him uninvited, and you'll be feeling much more than my fist. And
if he ever has an 'accident,' you'll be sharing space with our
new pilot, either in the Sickbay or the morgue. Do I make myself
clear?" He read the fear in each man's eyes as they nodded, then
continued down the corridor as if nothing had happened.

Tom had ducked back into his own hall, hurrying toward the
turbolift. He nearly jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Easy, Paris, nobody's after you." Chakotay sobered. "And if our
aching friends are smart, nobody ever will be."

"How did you know?"

"That you were there?" His eyes indicated Tom's blond hair. "You
might want to consider some camouflage next time."

"Damn," Tom had sighed.

Chakotay seemed ill-at-ease as the two men stepped on the
turbolift. "Look, Paris, I need to ask you this." Serious brown
eyes pinned wary blue. "In prison, did any of the Maquis---"

"Hassle me?" Tom shook his head, then shrugged. "In prison I
*was* a Maquis. It's the 'Fleet guys I had to watch out for---"
He stopped in shock, surprised the information had slipped out.

Chakotay's eyes mixed relief and compassion. "Thank you,
and---I'm sorry." He looked down a moment, then back. "The
Captain has asked me to...help people adjust to things. If you
ever need to talk..."

"I know where you live?" Tom shrugged again. "I don't think so.
But thanks for the offer and..." he hesitated, "what you did
back there. You didn't have to."

"Yes I did." This time it was the Commander's turn to shrug. "I
wanted to. No matter how you got here, Paris, you *are* a member
of my crew." He moved to the exit as the lift stopped. Over his
shoulder he tossed, "Remember that."

Tom leaned against the wall, alone in the lift with a lot to
think about.

That was five years ago. Tom had eventually taken Chakotay up on
his offer, and been surprised to discover his former Captain was
an able counselor. The Commander was perfectly capable of
setting aside their personal and professional differences to
offer a sympathetic ear and often world-altering insights.
Though the two had never discussed the sessions, even after they
ended, Tom was grateful to Chakotay for helping him to grow up
and become his own man.

************

Now it seemed someone else was in need of Chakotay's counsel.

Tom sighed and returned to the first page of the report. He read
again, this time inserting the identity of the "VC," i.e.,
"Vulcan Crewmember." He shook his head as he involuntarily
pictured Tuvok's broken, bleeding body.

It made sense. He was the most likely candidate from the handful
of people who would have those "mental walls" to keep Kashyk
out, and Tuvok had hovered pretty close to Captain Janeway after
the Devore Inspector had been granted asylum.

Tom weighed the Security Chief's preference for privacy with his
own need to make sure the wounded man had what he needed to
heal. He briefly considered going to the Vulcan himself, but
felt hopelessly unequal to the task. He truly believed Tuvok
would be better served by Chakotay's steadfast, nonjudgmental
support. It had certainly done Tom a world of good.

Tom brushed his teeth, took a long drink and set out on his
errand of mercy.

*************

Tom clutched the padd nervously as he seated himself in
Chakotay's dimly lit quarters. Halfway to the Commander's door
Tom had stopped and debated whether to wait until he could make
an office appointment.

The Commander had also had a rough time while Kashyk was aboard.
The pain dulling his brown eyes had been well hidden, but a few
of the senior staff suspected he was in mourning. The Captain's
obvious attraction to the Devore Inspector had clearly sounded
the death knell to any romantic hopes that might have lingered
in Chakotay's heart. It was the final proof Voyager's command
team would never be more than friends.

A quick reminder of all Tuvok had suffered firmed his resolve,
but now he was tongue-tied as he sat facing Chakotay's quiet
regard. The older man broke the silence. "Can you tell me what's
bothering you?" He glanced at the padd and attempted to lighten
the atmosphere. "A 'Dear Tom' letter, perhaps?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Tom shook himself and took a deep
breath. "Have you asked yourself why Kashyk just...let us go?"

"I---"

The words came out in a rush. "Well, it wasn't all that easy. It
turns out someone blackmailed the bastard into leaving Voyager
alone. They used genetic samples to prove he was some kind of
telepath, and threatened to expose him if we didn't have clear
sailing out of Devore space."

Chakotay seemed stunned. "Where did you get your information?
And why wait until now, when we're out of danger?"

Tom leaned forward. "Because Tuvok paid a terrible price for the
blackmail materials, and now he's dealing with it all alone.
Well, not entirely. The Doc is helping all he can, I'm sure, but
I know Tuvok needs more---a friendly ear, unwavering support,
someone who can keep their cool so he feels comfortable talking
about things. He needs you, Chakotay."

"And how did you find out about...all this?"

"I didn't mean to read it, it was an accident, really. I turned
on the padd and saw the first few lines and then I couldn't
stop." Tom handed over the slim unit.

Tom watched as Chakotay read the report, his color fading
alarmingly. When the older man reached the end he just stared
into space for a minute, then tapped his commbadge.

"Chakotay to the Doctor." His voice held the slightest hint of
strain.

"Yes, Commander?"

Chakotay kept a careful eye on his visitor. "I simply wanted to
let you know that I have your report. I picked it up earlier to
review it, but forgot to tell you."

"Thank you for letting me know. It's perfectly understandable
that you'd want to reassure yourself of your anonymity. Keep it
as long as you want."

"I'd like to add some levels of encryption. I'll return it
tomorrow before shift."

"Very good, Commander. Doctor out."

Tom felt his empty stomach lurch once more as Chakotay took
Tuvok's place in his imaginings. He felt the blood draining from
his face as he whispered in horror, "You?"

"Yes." Chakotay's voice was calm enough, but he quickly put some
distance between them. He stopped by the viewport and turned to
face the blond. "Our doctor is still rather literal. If 'VC' had
stood for Vulcan Crewmember, he'd have constantly written '*the*
VC'."

"Instead it stands for Voyager's Commander."

"Or Victim Chakotay." The older man's voice had gone flat.

"But that's not possible. His report mentioned 'mental walls.'
There *are* no human telepaths."

"True, but I have had years of meditation. Anyway, in the end,
the walls weren't strong enough." Chakotay unconsciously folded
his arms as if hugging himself to keep the cold out, or hold the
pain in.

Tom peered into the shadows, trying to read the dark eyes that
had hidden so much anguish. "So Kashyk got in, and hurt you. And
you haven't shared this with anyone, have you Chakotay?" Tom
stood, working things out. "Who *can* you talk to if you want to
spare them the guilt? The Captain would hate herself for not
realizing how she put us all in danger, and as for Tuvok---he
would feel guilty just for being a telepath. He may not show it,
but you know he'll feel responsible just the same." Tom looked
down a moment as his voice softened. "And your friends in the
Maquis would never understand."

He stepped toward the still figure, a statue framed by the
passing stars. "What happened to you, Chakotay? Please, talk to
me. Trust me, man to man. Not 'Paris' and 'Commander' or
'Counselor' and 'Patient.' Just Tom and Chakotay. Friends."

After a minute Tom sighed at the lack of response. "Anywhere,
anytime, anything you need. I promise I'll be here for you.
Remember that."

Chakotay was silent for another long moment. Then, "I
understand. But for now, I'd rather be alone."

Tom thought he heard the slightest hint of softening in
Chakotay's response. He decided to hold on to that belief with
its attendant spark of hope.

Defeated for the moment, Tom turned to leave. As he reached the
exit he heard a quiet, "Thank you, Tom." But when he glanced
over his shoulder, Chakotay had already shifted to stare once
more at the stars.

His figure was hidden from view as the door slid shut between
them.

TBC