AUCKLAND PENAL COLONY, 2377

"So what do you think of New Zealand?"

Owen Paris tried to find the right words to speak with his imprisoned nephew. Just as Nick Locarno's mother had been the Admiral's birth-twin, Nick was the spitting image of Tom Paris, so very far away on the other side of the galaxy. It was always somewhat unnerving. Now it was downright eerie.
"Nicholas--how are you doing, son?"

The sneer on the young man's face made Owen wonder if even a tough number like Kathryn could have done any good. At least with Tom, the sneer was always tempered with resolve. Here, it was just a sneer.

"Oh---just ducky! Prison life so agrees with a former top-flight cadet. But hey, it did wonders for Tommy-Gun, didn't it?"

"Nicholas, your cousin and you had your differences, its true. I'm not too fond of the thought that he invited you here to lay a verbal trap, some years ago. But now, he and his crew---he and the crew he serves with--are fighting to get home to us."

Nick's look was of a man dismissing what was said to him before it was even thought of.

"Please, please, PLEASE spare me another recitation of the bravery of the valiant crew of The USS Voyager. Uncle Owen, here's something I'll bet you never noticed. In the transmission that they sent--your beloved son got himself demoted--for guess what?"

Owen shook his head.

"For a level 4 violation of The Prime Directive. I have read all the reports, Nicholas. Did you read the part where Kathryn Janeway makes it clear that Tom's punishment was something that she had to do? In drips and drabs, even her most senior officers were ignoring direct orders. But I'll say this--they've held together through some awesome times. That crew is going to be commended when they get back in ways we have never seen before."

Nick shrugged.

"A tub--full of Maquis, Borg, and assorted losers like Tommy-Gun gets itself lost in what is essentially the Borg Quadrant, and everyone wants to hand them a medal. I, on the other hand, take a valid strategic gamble during the final battle of The Dominion War--and I get put here. Justice is a lot more than blind."

Owen kept his temper, but nonetheless challenged Nick's version of events.

"The crew of Voyager, even down to the worst screwup--who is not Thomas, by the way--needs no defense from me. As to the rest, I'll say this. You attempted to take out the Northern Polar Battle Platform above Cardassia Prime. This battle platform was twenty-five times the size of the average Dominion platform. By not concentrating your ship's weaponry on the main platforms, as you were ordered to do, former Captain Locarno, you cost us a vital Romulan flank, your own expensive Defiant-class ship and most of its crew, and almost cost us the Defiant-A, as well. Had Captain Sisko not vanished directly after the War, he would have been howling in rage at your tribunal. As it stood--only some brief written words made it in. That is the difference between the five years you received and the fifteen years you well might have. My God, Nicholas! You got off lightly."

Locarno's laughter was full of contempt.

"Lightly? This prison is not light, Uncle Owen. Do you realize what this is going to do to my career track? This is the biggest setback I've suffered since Crusher stabbed me in the back after our Kolvoord attempt. Heh. I thought I owned that kid. But Picard messed with his head, jumbled up his senses of duty and loyalty. But--in one way or another, those three losers are out of Starfleet."

Owen winced. While Crusher was alright, off who-knew-where, one of the other Nova Squadron members had died on a mission which placed her in way over her head. The last had hung himself in his quarters in a scandal the Academy would probably never recover from. Nick's career track was finished. So why couldn't he recognize that? Tom had once told Owen that his mistakes were his own problem. But he resented being compared to Nick, whom he accused of being a phony. Owen hadn't listened, because Tom kept screwing up and ducking the blame, while Nick always took full responsibility.

Looking back, Owen realized, Tom had never ducked quite as often as Nick took. So why did he draw his sister's son close and push his own away? Granted, Tom was a true pain at times, and no saint. But perhaps his redemption lay in that he never claimed to be.

"Nicholas, I want to help you. I have news, which may just..."

Locarno cut his uncle off.

"Help? Help? I wanted your help at the tribunal. You could've quashed all this, and right now I'd be working my way back up. I was NEVER supposed to go to prison, Owen. Never. You could have kept Tommy-Gun's barbed letter, damning me with faint praise, out of the Presiding Officer's view. You did neither. As for your news---well, unless you are here to tell me that Voyager burned up on re-entry into Earth's atmosphere, well then, I don't really much care, do I?"

With a start, Admiral Paris realized that his last conversation with his twin sister had been an angry one in a penal colony. History was repeating itself, both times as tragedy.

"Goodbye, Nicholas. And watch what you say about the Maquis--this place has plenty of them, last I checked."

"Just leave."

Owen did that, without so much as a backward glance. The docu-padd he was carrying was tossed into a nearby recycler and was quickly gone, like so much else now certainly was.

Outside, Reg Barclay took in the beautiful landscape. He greeted his sponsor.

"So, Admiral--how did Nick take the news? I'll bet he's happy."

Owen smiled at the younger man, who, for all his many quirks, was a good and reliable friend.

"No news is good news, Reg. I didn't tell him. I changed my mind, based on what I saw in there. Or, based on who I saw. Her name was Nicolette. She was beautiful, but always so angry. She was the person with whom I shared a birthday, but who would never share anything else without a fight. She fought bullies for me, but later in a snit tried to convince me my wife was unfaithful, when they didn't get along. Our mother would say I was cake, and Nicolette was icing. Took me years to realize she meant it as a compliment. Our sons are both just like us. God help me."

"He-he gave you an attitude, sir?"

"To put it mildly. So, it ends. Instead of going in there and telling my nephew that I'm getting him released almost three years early---I now have no nephew. I'll call the board and recommend he stay his full term. They left it up to me as a courtesy. I'd just as soon they hadn't."

Reg nodded.

"Does-does he think he's innocent of what he was court-martialed for?"

Owen shook his head.

"Nope. He thinks he's persecuted."

Reg squinted at that thought.

"Its frankly amazing to me how some people can just live in a fantasy world like that. Mine are always such happy places."

Glad at least that Barclay was away from his work and in the air and sun for at least one day, a very wise Admiral decided to count this mess as a learning experience.

"So, Reg."

"So--Admiral."

"So, Reg."

"So--er, what, Admiral?"

"So what do you think of New Zealand?"