DOUBLE JEOPARDY
By Morticia

StarTrek Voyager

SLASH m/m Chakotay/Paris

NC-17

Part 9
 

As Tom approached the second moon and began to slow into an orbit velocity so that he could swing the small shuttle into the dark side of the planetoid, he ran the confrontation with Chakotay over and over in his head.

The big Maquis had been furious with him, understandably so, and yet had still given him a chance to redeem himself. Tom was aware of the dull ache in his ribs and ass, despite the ministrations of the Crazy Horseís medic and each jolt of the small shuttle sent needles of pain through his abused body, making his cock stir involuntarily, yet the smile that kept trying to burst through onto his face was not sexual in origin.

For the first time in his miserable life, someone had finally given him the benefit of the doubt. Despite his fury, Chakotay had given him a chance to redeem himself. Tom was stunned and humbled by this generosity. Nothing was too high a price to pay for this second chance. He would die for Chakotay now. This new and alien feeling of love in his heart was like a fire burning through his body, its searing heat cleansing the dirtiest recesses of his soul.

"I love you, Chakotay" he whispered tentatively into the empty cockpit, trying the words on for size and then liking the fit, "I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!"

Ayala had told him that the contact would be waiting for him, sending a short-wave code for identification. Still ginning with the lunacy of first love, Tom set the sensors to scan for the signal. For a long time his sensor sweeps bounced back with empty echoes before finally picking up a faint signal.

Humming happily to himself, Tom set course, flying blind in the moonís shadow. He barely felt the first connecting jolt of the tractor beam that meshed him firmly in its web.

~~~

Ayala approached his Captain gingerly. Chakotay had been brooding in his command chair for over an hour, cold and uncommunicative, his face a granite mask of anger.

"Thereís a sub-space communication for you, Captain." He advised nervously

"On screen."

Two words flashed from the screen

"JOB DONE"

Chakotay flinched almost imperceptibly then turned calmly to his Exo.

"Set course for Regal III" He ordered emotionlessly

"What about Paris?" Ayala asked in confusion "Heís still out there."

"Paris was a Starfleet plant" Chakotay advised him calmly, his face showing no sign of his inner agony

"Bastard!" Ayala hissed

"Exactly" Chakotay said, "Get us out of here!"

"Aye, Sir."

~~~

Admiral Owen Paris received the inter-departmental memo, read it, snarled and sent the data-padd flying across his office in fury. His aide, Lieutenant Commander Janeway, ducked reflexively and then tentatively spoke:

"Bad news?"

Admiral Paris resisted the urge to strike the silly bitch. He took a deep calming breath.

"My son has been caught flying for the Maquis." He hissed venomously "Heís being brought to Earth for trial."

"Tom?" Janeway gasped in surprise

"Do I have ANOTHER fucking son?" Paris snarled

"I always wondered what happened to him after Caldik Prime." Janeway said sadly

"Well, now we know." Paris snapped.

" Surely you could put in a word for him. Iím sure heís just been caught up in the DMZ conflict. Despite everything he IS your son, Admiral. People would listen to you."

"Are you suggesting that I improperly use my influence to affect the treatment of a Maquis traitor?"

"But, heís your son." Janeway said in bewilderment

"I have no son" The Admiral replied coldly.

Janeway flinched. Although the Admiral had publicly denied his son after Caldik Prime, she couldnít imagine anyone letting his own child be sent to Auckland.

"You ARE aware of the standing orders that all Maquis are to be held in Auckland?" She queried

"So?"

Janeway gulped nervously

"Tom is barely more than a child, Sir, and he is extremely good-looking as I recall. I have heard tales of what happens in the Auckland penitentiary."

"He should have thought of that before he joined the Maquis." Admiral Paris replied stonily.

Janeway looked at her superior officer in horror and then bit her tongue, realising that her protest was useless.

~~~

Tom sat in the brig of the Enterprise and rocked with anguish.

He hadnít met his contact. The Enterprise had been waiting for him and had effortlessly tractored his small shuttle aboard.

He had been given a cursory medical examination by a statuesque redhead who had tutted and snarled over her readings, giving him a strong painkiller before he was silently escorted to the brig.

He had sat patiently in the cell, waiting for the inevitable interrogation, yet no one had come. Every few hours a silent security guard would bring a tray of food, remove the previous untouched tray and depart. Tom had given up trying to get the guard to speak to him. His third desperate plea for information had made the guard hesitate worriedly before leaving and subsequently a new guard had been appointed.

He had failed. Chakotay had trusted him, had sent him on a vital mission and he had been captured before even making contact. Tom was unconcerned about the capture itself. The Enterprise would return him to Earth and his father would simply intervene and send him on a new under-cover mission until the furor died down. Oh the other hand, he would probably never see Chakotay again. It was this thought alone that made him rock with misery. Chakotay would never forgive him.

~~~

Admiral Alexander Burton looked worriedly at his old friend.

"We could simply admit that he has been working for us. Okay, it will make him useless as a field operative, but there are plenty of jobs here that he could do. At least he wouldnít go on record as being a traitor. Who knows what effect that might have on YOUR career."

"The stupid bastard was supposed to be on Terrik Nor. What the fuck was he doing on a Maquis ship, anyway?" Owen griped

"It appears that Gul Dukat planted him in a Maquis cell. We knew Dukat had political ambitions. He evidently tired of using Tom as an aperitif for his Cardassian rivals and decided to up the stakes. According to our operative on the Maquis ship, Tom was under orders to seduce the cell leader, a Dorvan named Chakotay."

"He was apparently in a shuttle alone when he was caught."

"Tuvok says that Chakotay realised he was a plant and arranged for his capture. The problem is that he identified him as a Starfleet plant rather than a Cardassian one."

"SHIT. So heís screwed with the Maquis AND the Cardassians now." Admiral Paris snarled

"Exactly. We may as well bring him home."

"What a fucking waste. Do you have any idea how much it cost to have him modified? Too much to have his useless ass sitting at a desk at HQ, for sure! Besides, we canít run the risk of some namby pamby Starfleet doctor giving him a medical and possibly discovering his modifications, it would blow our whole operation out of the water."

"So what are you going to do with him?" Burton asked

"Let him go to Auckland."

"You canít be serious!"

"The Maquis in Auckland wonít know heís Starfleet. The Starfleet wonít know heís supposedly Maquis. The place is full of secrets we havenít yet uncovered. Tom will be an ideal inside agent."

"He wonít last a week, Owen. Even the guards stay out of Auckland at night, and rumor has it they are mean bastards themselves, they just lock it down and stay the hell away. Putting a good-looking boy like Tom in that hell hole will be like throwing a lamb to a pack of wolves. To be frank, heíll get fucked to death. He wonít be the first."

Admiral Paris grinned nastily

"You forget, Alexander, Tom CANíT be fucked to death. His body regenerates itself faster than anyone can abuse it. Short of a phaser blast in his head, there is nothing he canít survive."

"I had read reports of his modifications, but I didnít realise that he was virtually indestructible." Burton said doubtfully

"Believe me, if the whole Auckland population stood in a row and took turns, Tom would still be able to walk the next day. His design is unbelievable, thatís why it cost so bloody much."

"But what about his mind, Owen? That kind of experience would drive anyone mad."

"Not Tom." Owen said proudly "He enjoys it, Alexander, his brain synapses have been completely re-routed. The more pain inflicted on him, the more ecstasy he feels. Tom will LOVE his time in Auckland. You donít think Iíd let him suffer, do you?"

Burton shuddered involuntarily.

"It still seems immoral to do that type of modification to someone, especially your own child, Owen."

"Hell, Alexander, he volunteered. Heís a Paris. We do what we have to do. I will have to deal with the public Ďdisgraceí of having a Maquis traitor for a son. I think that Tom has the best of the deal. I shudder to think how many people are going to shun me. Hell, I will probably be thrown out of my bridge club." Owen said petulantly.

~~~

Tom only realised that they had arrived at Earth because two security guards arrived, handcuffed him and led him to the transporter.

He had spent the last two weeks in ever declining misery. His refusal to eat had lead only to the indignity of forced injections of nutritional supplement. His failure to sleep had been corrected with forced injections of sleeping potions. Other than this manhandling he had been left alone, his questions unanswered, his requests to contact home refused.

He was transported directly to a holding cell where he was then subjected to a humiliating intimate strip-search, dressed in grey prison overalls and then left alone again in an interrogation room.

It was several hours later when a fat, balding man arrived, His cheeks and nose flushed evidence of alcoholic dependence.

"Iím your lawyer" He spat, plonking a battered case on the table and sinking heavily into the chair. He pushed a data-pad and electronic stylus towards Tom.

"Sign here."

"What is it?" Tom asked in bewilderment

"Your confession."

"Confession to what?"

"That you knowingly and willingly joined a Maquis cell. That you are a traitor to the Federation. Just sign at the bottom, below your name."

"What about my trial?"

"There will be no trial. You will confess, be found guilty and will be transported to the Auckland Penal Colony for a sentence of not less than five years."

"But I Ė Iím not, Iím not a traitor Ė My father will - "

"Your father will be EXTREMELY pissed off unless you sign." The Lawyer snapped

Tom looked at him with bewildered anguish, tears beginning to spill helplessly down his thin cheeks.

"Auckland?" He whispered in terror

The Lawyer looked around furtively, checking for listening devices

"Listen, you stupid fucker, youíve blown it, big time. Your father is kindly letting you have a chance to redeem yourself. There are a number of ĎLifers" there who have refused to cooperate with Starfleet Intelligence. You will go to Auckland where you will be able to use your Ďtalentsí to discover their secrets. Your father is trusting that you will be more convincing THIS time. Personally I think heís wasting his time. You obviously are not as good a fuck as he thinks, otherwise this Chakotay fellow wouldnít have done it."

"Done what?"

"Who the hell do you think arranged for your capture?"

Tom turned white as a ghost.

"Nooooo" he wailed in disbelief

"Just sign will you? I havenít got all day." The Lawyer spat in disgust. It was bad enough being relegated to dealing with a whore without being subjected to his histrionics.

Almost blinded by his tears, Tom raised a shaking hand and ran the stylus over the data-pad in a looping signature.

The Lawyer snatched the padd and hauled his ungainly body to its feet. He looked dispassionately at the weeping pilot and then had a twinge of conscience

"Word of advice, Paris. Youíre a whore and obviously not a very good one. This Maquis chap obviously didnít give a shit about you so you had best forget him. Start thinking with your head not your dick or you wonít last five minutes in Auckland."

He advised as he gathered his gear to leave.

The door opened to allow his exit and his place was taken by two sturdy guards who checked Tomís handcuffs were secure, shackled them to ankle restraints with strong chains and then marched him as fast as he could shuffle to the transporter pad.

Tom trembled on the pad as they stepped back to allow his transport. The discovery of the double betrayal had completely overloaded his cognitive processes. Both his father and Chakotay had turned their back on him.

His fatherís actions were hurtful enough, but to discover that Chakotayís "second chance" had in fact been the worst betrayal of all was enough to make his heart shatter into a thousand sharp pieces. The tiny kernel of hope that had begun to blossom in his fragile ego had been so violently extinguished by the fact of Chakotayís treachery that he felt hollow and numb. His fear of Auckland receded into a blank hopelessness.

This was his life. Pain, betrayal and unending torment. There was no escape. Ever. He had been a fool to even imagine that someone might actually love him.

Tom materialised on the Auckland transporter pad, was unchained by a hulking guard and then led to the entrance of the holding cells. A bored guard sitting at a desk by the door checked his padd, looked up and then did a double take.

"This has to be a mistake" he mumbled, checking his data-padd again.

"Whatís up?" Tomís escort asked

"It says to put him in general population, must be a mistake."

The guard leered at Tom

"Yeah, Iíll say." He grinned.

Tom simply stared into space, the guardsí words no more than an irritating drone.

"Shit!" The first guard exclaimed "No mistake, he is definitely supposed to be in GP"

The other guard grimaced.
 

"What a fucking waste. Maybe we should pre-lube his ass. Just to make it easier on him."

"You mean you want a chance yourself before they rip him a new asshole." The seated guard laughed "you might as well, he sure as hell wonít be worth fucking by tomorrow."

"Nah, itís gonna be party time tonight, for sure." The second guard sniggered. "What do you say, pretty boy? Want me to ease you in gently? Loosen you up a bit?"

Tom looked at him blankly.

"Shit, heís a fucking moron." The second guard complained as Tom showed no reaction to his teasing. He slapped Tom lightly across the face "come on, wake up" he snorted "Itís time to fuck."

Tom blinked slowly, registered the word "fuck" and then began to fumble with the fastening of his pants. The two guards grinned at each other in surprise at Tomís compliance, their grins turning to appreciative leers as Tomís trousers fell to his ankles revealing his firm ass.

"Nice tattoo." The second guard smirked, tracing his fingers over the thin red scars. "Bend over." He snapped and Tom folded himself over the desk, automatically spreading his legs.

"Hey, I think heís gonna fit right in here, after all." The first guard laughed, rising to his feet and coming around the desk to appreciate the view.

"Yeah, pretty, obedient and QUIET. Perfect! Maybe we could put him in solitary for a couple of weeks before he goes into GP, just to break him in slowly." The second guard said as he spat on his hand, rubbed his cock and then expertly spreading Tomís ass cheeks began to ease himself into the tight warmth.

Tomís mind had shut down. As though from a great distance he felt the initial pain of penetration and his body instinctively thrust back welcomingly, devouring the invader but he himself remained aloof from the experience, lost in a fog of bewildered misery.

"Wahoo" The guard whooped as the prisoner reamed himself on his cock. He pounded furiously into the responsive body, harder and harder until he exploded into the tight ass. He slapped Tomís butt appreciatively as he withdrew. His place was immediately taken by the other guard who found Tom to be as docile and welcoming as his colleague had.

"Yeah," he gasped as he finished "Letís keep him to ourselves a bit longer."

"Fucking animals." The second guard agreed "Remember what they did to that Bajoran boy?"

"The fisting competition?"

"Yeah. Fucking waste. If the kid had survived he would have spend the rest of his life shitting as he walked."

"Fucking animals, the lot of them."

"Yeah. Want another poke before I lock him up?"

"Sure, why not." His companion agreed.

TBC