Title: Phoenix Rising: Fall 1/5
Author: Jessica
E-mail Address: Jessa5@aol.com
Size: 79K
Version: final
Category: A, U; K/T, K/f
Rating: PG
Teaser: On a Voyager that is run by the children of the original crew, where
protocol is disregarded and a 22-year-old can be a commander, Harry Kim
has settled into life as a Captain.  And though it seems to his impressionable
crew that his life is complete, there is a deep sadness that lurks inside . .  
. 

Archiving: OK to archive at KTH and ASC, anywhere else, you can have it as
long as you drop me a line at Jessa5@aol.com letting me know, and you keep my
name and all disclaimers/notes on it.  Yeah, as if you want to archive this
anyway . . . ::shrug:: Enjoy.

(It's like Imzadi, The Visitor, and Quantum Leap all rolled into one,
but K/T.  Hee!)

Author's Note: Umm.  This story might not make any sense at all to you.  It's
okay, it doesn't make much sense to me either.  You'll understand the prologue
when you finish Part One -- if you don't, then either I really don't know what
I'm doing or you're really dense. <G>  I'm leaning towards the former.  As 
for the
time-travel's mechanics, just think Quantum Leap.  Yes, there's a paradox.
There always is, when you do time-travel.

Disclaimer: Short version: Paramount Star Trek no infringement.

Phoenix Rising
by Jessica Fisher

PRELUDE

Dead.  They were all dead.  Every last one of them -- the ship too.  Just
BOOM, and they were gone.  So many years with so few deaths, then one fatal
error . . . The man cradled his head in his hands, feeling the waves of guilt
and pain wash over him and squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of
emotion.  The pain was a dull throb, something he was used to, something he'd
been dealing with for half his life.  But the guilt . . . the guilt was a
drug, flooding his veins and producing the quite unpleasant side affect of
nausea.

What had he been thinking, leaving them there to fend for themselves while he
went down to the planet to discuss trade with the ruler?  He should have known
that it was a ruse, that the stations docked warships, not supply freighters. 
He tried to tell himself that he had been lucky to get out of the palace, that
he had been lucky that he was not captured by the guards and brought to a
public execution, but he couldn't believe himself.

They were dead, and it was his fault.  As their captain, he should have been
there to lead them . . . he shouldn't have left the ship in the hands of a 22-
year-old girl, no matter how capable.

But then, suppose that it hadn't been her poor leadership that had been the
problem?  She was not a poor leader.  Perhaps it was less-than-genius
engineering.

Whatever the cause, Voyager had been blown to bits and Harry Kim was the only
survivor.

***

PART ONE: Fall

Harry sighed as he rested in his chair at the end of another long day. 
Voyager had been traveling through an empty sector of space for weeks, and the
shifts were increasingly dull.  However, the crew's banter was always lively
when Naomi was on the Bridge.  If Tuvok had still been alive, Harry reflected,
half the Bridge crew would be pulling double shifts for being disorderly. 
But Tuvok was dead, along with most of Voyager's original crew.  Harry was not
strict with his officers; they had never been to Starfleet Academy, they
had never lived on a planet, and they were used to a casual atmosphere on the
ship.  Voyager, after all, was the only home they had ever known.

" . . . so I told him he could just keep his water buffalo and shove it up his
ass," Naomi Wildman said as the crewmen on the Bridge burst into laughter.

"How could you do that?"  Michael Paris asked through a laugh.  "The poor
guy!"

"If she'd acccepted it, think of the consequences," Janice O'Connor giggled. 
"I can just see it: 'For a good time, give Naomi a water buffalo!'"  Harry
couldn't help but to smile as the crewmen tossed lewd comments back and forth
regarding Naomi's wild love life.  It had been a long time since Harry had
participated in such discussions, and they had never taken place on the Bridge
and had a different cast of characters -- and although there had been one
unfortunate incident with a rooster, nobody had ever offered any of them a
water buffalo in exchange for a date.

But then, all of them were dead now.  Harry was the only senior staff member
left . . . and he had created his own senior staff.  The console that he had
manned for so many years was now run by Tom Paris's son Michael; the chair at
his side was occupied by Janice O'Connor.  The tactical station left
vacant by Tuvok seventeen years before was run by Naomi Wildman.  He gazed at
the stars swimming by on the viewscreen and thought of how many years he'd
been traveling through unfamiliar space.  He wondered what would happen when
they reached Earth . . . *if* they reached Earth.  The crew would have their
own children by then.  With the improvements made to the engines over the
years, Voyager would reach the Alpha Quadrant in approximately twenty years. 
After Harry had assumed command, he had done away with many of the Starfleet
rules and had begun trading technology with other races, improving Voyager as
he went along.  The replicators had unlimited energy, the engines were twice
as fast . . . Harry realized that he hadn't thought about home in years. 
Voyager was home now, and Earth was a distant memory.  Almost all of his crew
had never even been to Earth; they probably didn't really care if they ever
got there or not.  There was really no purpose in going back.

But it was something to do.

Various members of the beta shift came to replace the crew on the Bridge, who
headed for the turbolift in small groups.  Harry sighed, turned command over
to the Lieutenant at the conn, and headed for his quarters.

***

"So Naomi, what are you doing this evening?" asked Janice as she, Naomi, and
Michael sat in the mess hall.  Naomi tossed her head, sending long brown hair
flying about her face.  She smiled in the direction of a handsome young
Bajoran man sitting at a table across the mess hall.  The man smiled back and
headed towards them.

"Joran and I are going to spend some *quality time* on the holodeck," Naomi
responded nonchalantly.  Michael smiled conspiratorially.

"Quality time?" he asked.  "You probably won't spend much time on
the holodeck at all before going over to his quarters."

"Hey!  I'm not *that* easy."

Janice laughed, her pearly white teeth showing between full red lips.  "Come
on, Naomi, everyone saw you coming out of his quarters this morning. 
Don't try to deny it."

Naomi grimaced, the horns on her forehead drawing closer together.  "For your
information, I was in his quarters to get a PADD that had the sheild specs on
it," she said haughtily.  She turned to Keta Joran, who had come up to stand
behind her.  "Isn't that right?"  Naomi smiled her
You-Have-No-Clue-What-I'm-Talking-About-So-Just-Say-Yes smile at him, and he
nodded agreement.

"Yeah, the shield specs.  So, Naomi, we still on for tonight?"

"You bet.  In fact, I think I'm done here . . . why don't we go right now?"
she asked, getting up as she spoke and retrieving her tray to place in the
reclamator.  "I'll see you two tomorrow," she said, smiling the Oh-You-Poor-
Dears-With-Nowhere-To-Go smile at them as she left.  Michael grinned and shook
his head as he turned to Janice, a lock of light brown hair falling over his
blue eyes.

"She's hopeless," Janice remarked, pushing the remnants of her food around on
her plate with a fork.  "She'll have slept with every guy on the ship by this
time next year!  There'll be nothing left for the rest of us!"

"Janice, you know that's not true," he said, angling his head so that he could
see her green eyes through her heavy frame of fiery red hair.

"Isn't it?  Who hasn't she slept with yet?"

"Well, there's me for one . . . "

"You don't count."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Michael asked, rather offended.  "I *am*
male, you know."

"Of course I know!"  Janice shook her head slightly; "How could I not?" she
muttered under her breath.  Then, in response to his confused look, she
justified herself: "I was just saying, you don't date anyone, so you don't
count."

"Oh, as if *you* ever date anyone."

"I'm the Commander, I'm not supposed to date anyone!"

"Whatever!  You just don't want to because you have a crush on the Captain." 
Janice's head shot up, her eyes blazing, green piercing blue.

"Who told you that?" she whispered, her voice low and deadly.  Uh oh.  Michael
knew better than to get Janice angry -- she had a legendary temper; it came
along with the red hair, he supposed.

"Nobody did.  I've seen you looking at him when you think nobody's paying
attention."

"Aren't you supposed to be looking at your *console* while you're on the
Bridge, Lieutenant?" she asked, emphasizing his rank.  He was really in for it
now; Michael felt a blush rising in his cheeks.

"I . . . "

"Look," she said, her face softening at his discomfort.  She usually lost her
temper completely, but for some reason, Michael had a different effect on 
her. 
"Just don't tell anyone, okay?  Especially him.  I know how close you two 
are. 
This conversation never happened, got it?"  He nodded nervously.  Janice
looked at him sharply, then got up and left, leaving Michael slightly
flustered but greatly relieved.

It was very odd to him that Janice had feelings for Captain Kim; Harry had
been a surrogate father to him since his real father had passed away. 
That was eleven years ago, when he was an impressionable ten years old . . . 
more than half his life.  Harry had been close
to him before that too, however.  He knew that his father and the Captain had
at one point been the best of friends.  Michael's father had never explained
exactly why they weren't as close as they had once been, but he had guessed it
had something to do with a woman -- probably his own mother, Jenny Delaney. 
He knew that when Harry had first come on the ship he had gone out with Jenny
a few times.  Maybe it had been more serious than he had been led to believe 
. . .  
Then again, he recalled a night some years ago when his aunt Megan, who had
moved in with them at his father's death, had gone to the Captain's quarters
for some unknown reason and not come back until the next morning.  At the
time, he hadn't know the implications of that, and hadn't thought of it 
since, 
but looking back on it now he realized that was not the only time Aunt Megan
had been gone all night.  Though there were no grudges held in the family,
Michael also knew that his father had been involved with his aunt for some
time before marrying his mother.

There were, however, some odd occurences he remembered from his childhood. 
Once he had been playing in his parents' closet and had come across a picture
of his father with a woman he'd never seen; she wasn't completely human, and
he guessed that she was part Klingon.  Harry had been sitting with him that
day, and Michael had asked him who the woman in the picture was.

"Where did you get that?!" Harry had demanded, grabbing the picture away. 
"Where did you get it?"

"I found it in thet closet," the surprised eight-year-old Michael had
responded.  "Who's the lady?"

"Put it away.  Put it back where you found it," Harry had answered, handing
him the picture.  "I don't ever want to see it again."

"But who is she?" Michael had asked, not satisfied.

"Michael, PUT THE PICTURE AWAY.  Just put it away."  Michael had done as he
was asked, cowed by tone of Harry's voice.  He'd never asked about the woman
again.  Never thought about her again.

It occurred to him now, as he exited the messhall on his way to the turbolift,
that the woman in the picture probably had something to do with the
separation between his father and the Captain.  Harry had seemed quite upset
by it, and in the picture, his father had had his arm around the woman. 
In fact, it seemed so obvious to him now that she had been an important figure
in his father's and the Captain's lives that he was kicking himself for not 
realizing
it sooner.  Michael resolved to find out who this mystery woman was, and 
finally
discover the reason that the Captain was so . . . distant.

***