Brand: Thomas Eugene Paris, you stand accused of firing on a Federation starship, sedition and most seriously terrorism. As a result of your alleged connections to the Maquis operating in the Demilitarised zone in direct opposition to the Federation/Cardassian peace treaty.

I must say, I hoped I wouldn’t find you standing in front of me again.

Paris: Well, I didn’t particularly want to be here either.

Brand: I’d lose the attitude, young man. You may lose the few friends that you have left in these halls.

As it is, It seems your name still attracts some of the right kind of attention around here. You’ve been offered a deal. The Maquis represent a grave threat to the security of the Federation. If you give open, comprehensive and truthful testimony here today about your time spent within their ranks-

Paris: I thought my connections to the Maquis were ‘alleged’

Brand: They are. I can’t spell this out much clearer for you though. I’d recommend you read between the lines of what I’m saying.

If you give truthful testimony, the charges of terrorism and firing on a Federation starship will be dropped. You will serve 18 months in a penal colony in New Zealand for the remaining charge.

Paris: And who said crime doesn’t pay

Paris: Sorry, sorry.

Brand: We will give you time to consult with your council before we reconvene here at 14:00 hours, I hope you make the right choice this time.

Paris: I don’t need the time. I’ll testify now.

Brand: Very well.

Paris: You’ll remember the last time I stood in front of you Admiral. After you ripped the pips from my collar and the combadge from my chest I caught sight of my father, the great Admiral Owen Paris, slipping silently out of the courtroom. Not even a glance back at his only son.

Just another disappointment to add to his long list. At least I was consistent, right?

After my court-martial, I went to the one place I knew could drown my sorrows: Marseille, France. More specifically, a dive bar called Chez Sandrine. Back when I was a cadet, that place helped me waste time like a pro. Now? It was my sanctuary for hustling pool and blowing my winnings of Gold-Pressed Latinum, bottles of Château Lafite, and the occasional… let’s just say local companionship.

Brand: I don’t think we need these details Mr. Paris

Paris: I promise I’m going somewhere with this. But hey, you can’t say you’re surprised. I’m a handsome guy!

Brand: Mr Paris!

Paris: Okay, okay. Well, while I was there the days blurred together: drink, play pool, stumble into the night, repeat. I didn’t even know how long I’d been stuck in that cycle.

It was another unremarkable day. I’d just cleaned out a group of Bolians at the pool table and was at the bar ordering that fancy bottle of Château Lafite. Sandrine gave me her usual eye-roll - she was the owner of the bar - she told me I was cut off.

As I said, things blurred together. I didn’t even think I was that drunk! But I charmed her into one last drink which I took over to a table in the corner. If I remember I was playing

Paris: some sort of game of hard to get with one of the locals.

Brand: Mr Paris. Do I need to remind you again that this is a court testimony, not a chance to brag about your… Proclivities?

Paris: No sir.

But this is where I think you’ll find it starts getting interesting. As I was doing this I was approached by a man. He had this… Tribal-like tattoo on his face. Name is Chakotay. He’s going to be after me already, so I figure telling you that about him can’t hurt. He was the leader of the ship I was on.

He approached me, asked me if I was familiar with the DMZ and the border. I shrugged him off. But he kept at it. I think there may have been his first officer, or who I thought was his first officer with him as well. Some bajoran called Seska. Or she may have turned up later…

Anyway I could tell this was more than just a sales pitch to him. It was personal. He laid out the history: the failed treaty, the betrayal of the Federation’s promises, the people abandoned to fend for themselves. It was compelling, I’ll give him that.

By the time he finished, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: Purpose. Maybe this was a chance to redeem myself.

Judging by where I ended up

Paris: Clearly not.

Brand: Continue

Paris: Well when I agreed he knocked me out, or maybe I passed out. Guess he wanted to keep his pathways secret. I came to in a dimly lit cramped room that felt like it had seen better days. Probably a long time ago. The walls had that "well-loved" patina, and the air had a faint metallic tang. As I tried to sit up on the narrow bunk they'd dumped me on, the whole room decided it would be fun to start spinning.

As my vision reluctantly came into focus, I heard a voice… Cheerful, but way too cheerful if you know what I mean. Saying: “He’s awake, sir.”

It was a pudgy Bolian, I think he went by the name of Chell. He had that kind of energy that hits you like a warp core breach when you’re not ready for it. And let me tell you, I was not ready for it.

I was still trying to see straight and he was giving me the welcome speech. Most of it went over my head, but I do remember that the ship was called Liberty. Chakotay was talking of them getting some new ones soon. Some guy in their ranks clearly had a thing for Les Mis, it was going to be called Val Jean…

Anyway, after Chell welcomed me Chakotay came in. He told me all about his code of secrecy. I don’t know whether that’s a Maquis wide thing or just him. He was maddingly opaque as a person. He took me to get some food from a somehow still functioning replicator and introduced me to the rest of his crew.

Their names were...

Paris: Ayala, Tabor, Henley, Seska , Chell, who I’ve already told you about…

Brand: Any others?

Paris: Oh yes, the engineer. Torrey or something. Had facial ridges. Might have been Klingon. Anyway.

Once I’d finished my meal, Chakotay began to talk to me about the Badlands. Turns out the reason he’d sought me out is because he needed a pilot to help him navigate the plasma storms. They wanted to have some sort of trade route or base there.

I told them he was insane of course, it’s hard enough to get one ship through the plasma storms. Let alone enough to set up a base or run an operation.

But he was determined, so I helped out.

Paris: Admiral?

Brand: Yes Mr. Paris?

Paris: I should mention, I wasn’t with the Maquis long. In fact, I was picked up on my first mission. Near where the Bradbury found me.

Their ships might have been old and barely hanging together, but they were smaller and more agile than the Federation or Cardassian ships. That made them perfect for hit-and-run tactics, or that was the theory at least. I’m not sure how well it holds up.

We were in the… Dorvan system I think? Some Cardassians came out of nowhere. Chakotay tried to talk to them. I think one of them was called Evek?

Anyway, we escaped but blew the engines in the process. I went to get help and… That’s where the Bradbury picked me up.

I never got that help, they’re probably all space popsicles by now.

Brand: That’s quite enough. Thank you for your testimony.

Brand: A moment please.

Brand: Apologies Mr Paris for the interruption.

Brand: Thank you for your testimony. The court will now adjourn before final sentencing later today.