Author's note:

It's been a while on this fic, I know. It's been a crazy time for me in real life. (Good crazy, not bad crazy, but definitely busy crazy.) I'd been working on this chapter for some time off and on, as well as what will become the next chapter. Someone reviewed, got me thinking about this story, my muse was struck, and here we are.

It was late. Harry's quarters, serving as the headquarters of the defense team, was showing signs of wear. Normally, Harry kept it spic and span. No longer; the desk was covered with PADDs, pizza boxes, donuts, mugs of coffee, and cans of soda. The wall terminal displayed a neat list of points they intended to make. When it had started, it had been a tangled mess, but Seven could organize just about anything. She sat up ruler-straight by the screen, waiting for a chance to further organize the list.

"All right, " Harry said. "What points are we going to make in the opening statement?"

Tom grinned. Seven watched him archly, just waiting for him to make a mistake.

"First off," he began, "I'm going to point out that the Federation bars discrimination based on origin. Then I'll point out that Starfleet is dedicated to openness, inclusion, that sort of thing."

Seven eyed him archly. "Our legal defense should be more precise than 'that sort of thing'," she said critically.

Tom smiled but didn't respond. "Tuvok is going to bring up the Eugenics Wars," he continued.

"And you'll do what?" Harry prompted.

"Point out that they were four hundred years ago. Point out that regular, plain old humans have done a pretty bang-up job of starting wars all on our own. And I'm gonna do the Khan schtick."

Seven scowled. "The 'Khan schtick', as you call it, is a foolish and empty dramatic gesture."

Tom shook his head. "That's where you're wrong, Seven," he said. "It's dramatic, yes. But it's not empty. And if it works the way I hope it does, it'll make people think. And it will work. And when it does -- ah-ha!"

The former drone was unconvinced. "Ah-ha is not a strategy."

Tom leaned forward and grabbed another can of soda. He waved it at Seven. 'That, dear Seven, is where you are mistaken. That's exactly what I want. People are expecting to hear Kessel's defense out of me. They'll be expecting me to say anything at all to get her off the hook. But I'm not going to say it; I'm going to make someone else do it for me. I know what I'm doing."

Seven paused. "It is still not a strategy," she insisted.

"Neither is a dry, boring recitation of Federation laws," Tom said. He waved a finger. "Sure I could stand up there and say, 'Look, Federation Law 532.2, Starfleet Code of Military Justice Section 247 dash a point one, section twelve, and Starfleet General Order 12 forbid discrimination.' But that's just gonna bore the council." He waved a hand excitedly. "We need to get people thinking with their hearts."

"Only Species 1478 possesses neural tissue in their chests. No species on Voyager does," Seven riposted. "You are consuming too much sugar and caffeine, and it is affecting your thinking. We should concentrate on the salient points of law."

"The law proscribes discrimination based on race, religion, species, or sexual orientation," Tom said. "It's a good start, but it's not enough. We need to make people think about their consciences. About our oath as Starfleet officers. About what we're dedicated to. That's what's going to get us over the edge."

Harry got a thoughtful look. "Actually," he said, "couldn't we try some of Starfleet's minority-protection policies? I mean, the Eugenics Wars were centuries ago, and the Augments lost. Starfleet has had a pretty forward policy towards integrating and protecting minorities. No offense." He had a somewhat pained look, as if he might offend the Augment sitting companionably next to him.

"None taken," Kessel said, and drank down her can of soda. Tom had noticed that she had a pretty good appetite, all things considered. Then again, all those extra abilities probably made extensive demands on her metabolism. Maybe that was something. Ladies and gentlemen of the council, there are Augments among us. They're stronger than us and they're smarter than us. But if we control their supply of coffee, soda, and donuts, they will have no choice but to come to reasonable terms with us.

"The problem is," Kessel continued, unaware of Tom's reverie, "is that minority-protection policies come into play when a new planet wants to join the Federation. Usually there's a minority on that planet that has been historically discriminated against or disadvantaged. So the Federation will require the planet to enact a program under Federation monitoring for a few years, and then let them join. Earth is a founding member of the Federation. It wouldn't work."

"Nope," Tom said. "I'm hoping Tuvok may fall into that trap, but he may be smart enough to avoid it. The Federation Charter specifically states: all member societies are equal, and all are expected to stick to the Federation guidelines. Earth is a member planet of the Federation. It has minority-protection laws. If it hasn't been following them, then it has to make things right just like any other member planet would."

"You're going to claim that Earth practices discrimination?" Harry asked, and chuckled. "Nobody ever said you didn't have guts."

Seven appeared thoughtful for once, instead of arguing. Actually, Tom thought, it was probably good that Seven had put his theories to the test. If an idea couldn't pass her initial attack, it wouldn't have survived a moment past Tuvok. Tom found himself wondering if Seven was thinking about anti-Borg discrimination as well as anti-Augment.

"How about we take a ten-minute break?" Tom said. "Head break, coffee refills, whatever."

"I possess replicator rations," Seven said promptly. She paused for a moment. "This round is on me."

He got the idea it had been a scripted response. Maybe Seven was using this as a miniature social lab. So what? Kessel had sprung for the last round, he'd gotten the one before that, and Harry had gotten the pizza. At least Seven was chipping in.

She walked to the replicator and ordered up a pot of coffee and a dozen donuts. Harry sat companionably down next to Kessel and the two shared a glance. For a moment Tom felt like breaking into laughter. Yes, as strange as this had been, it seemed he'd succeeded in at least getting these two to notice each other.

Kessel punched up something on her PADD and read for a moment. She smiled wanly and looked wistful.

"Something wrong?" Tom asked.

She shook her head. "When you made those queries to Earth," she said, "one of them was for K'Voch."

He closed his eyes for a moment and took the mug of coffee Seven had offered him. "Thanks," he said absently to the drone. "K'Voch...that was the Klingon scientist, right? The one who figured out the Augment embryos were breaking down?"

Kessel nodded. "Das stimmt. That's him. He just published an article that was printed in a biology journal. It must've come back in the queries."

"He's still alive?"

"Still alive, and still working," Kessel affirmed. "He's been part of an archaeological dig on Qo'nos. "

"Can I see that?" The article didn't interest him too much, but he did want to see the Klingon who had started this whole thing off. She turned the PADD around so he could see it. He scrolled down the article to see if there were any pictures.

There were three pictures. One was the usual author picture in Federation scientific journals. It showed an older Klingon man, looking into the camera with the sort of look Tom found entirely appropriate for a Klingon scientist. His general mien looked intelligent and focused. He was neither scowling nor smiling, but intead quite serious. His eyes were bright and clear and stern. Tom thought he looked smarter than the average Klingon, maybe a little more willing to think about ethics, but he sure didn't look like he took any guff. It made Tom think of his own father and he had to force that thought away. No time for going down that road, not now. K'Voch had given Erika Kessel and the other Augment embryos to her father; it was Tom Paris's job to keep her in Starfleet.

Below the picture of the Klingon scientist were two other pictures. One was of a Klingon skull with a nose hole that seemed larger than usual, and the biggest teeth he'd ever seen. Next to it was a picture he presumed to be the owner of the skull in life. He was scowling and baring those teeth as if threatening to bite whoever was taking the picture.

"Nice chompers," Harry said, also looking.

"Who's that? His lab assistant?" Tom asked.

"No," Kessel said. "That's what he found. The...uh...," she looked up. "Schaedel. Skull. Sorry."

Tom thought she was either tired or stressed or both; she usually didn't have problems in translation. She'd held up well, though. Unlike the others, he'd actually been a defendant. It was nerve-racking;after all, it was her career on the line, not his.

"Is that a Klingon skull?" Harry asked, leaning down to look at the article with more interest.

"A Klingon skull, yes. But not Klingons as we know them today. That's a skull from an ancestor species. A proto-Klingon, I guess. According to the article, they found some stone tools with it, and a few other bones, in a cave in a rural province." She pointed at the scowling, toothy Klingon. "That's a holodeck reproduction of what the proto-Klingon would have looked like. You might not find it that interesting, but for biologists, it's an exciting find."

Tom nodded. "I'm sure it is," he said.

And then it hit him.

Clear as day, but no one had ever seen it before. He felt his knees tremble and almost dropped his coffee mug. Kessel, Harry and Seven all stared at him with worried looks on their faces. He sat down on Harry's couch and put the mug down.

"Lieutenant Paris, are you all right?" asked Kessel.

Tom began to laugh. What an idiot he was! How could he not have seen it? But he had now.

"I'm fine," he said, shaking. "I'm just fine...and you're gonna be fine too, Kessel. Believe it. Wait a minute. Harry, do you have a tricorder?"

"Sure do," Harry said, and reached to get it. He passed it to Seven, who passed it to Kessel. Each person gave him a puzzled look as they handed the tricorder over like some odd game of hot potato. Kessel handed him the tricorder timidly, clearly wondering what the crazed human might want with it.

He ran a few scans and ran a few computer queries. Voyager's databases told him what he needed; he didn't even need contact with Earth. They told him what he wanted to know, and he grinned tightly. " He looked away, grabbed a donut, and brandished it at his staff and his client.

"No more caffeine for you," Harry said dubiously.

Tom looked at his best friend and laughed harder, feeling tears come to his eyes. His stomach hurt. But there it was!

"No more caffeine for anyone," Tom said. "We can all get some sleep now. Big morning tomorrow. But we're gonna blow it out of the water."

Seven gave him a puzzled look, then glanced over at Kessel. Kessel simply shrugged at the drone.

"That's it," Tom avowed. "Oh, that's it. Tuvok won't win. He can't win. Not only do they have to let you stay in Starfleet, but when we get back to Earth, you could make Earth give you your own island, if you wanted to. We've got it. We've got it licked. This is going to be open and shut."

"Your enthusiasm is good," Seven said, "but I do not understand why you suddenly feel victory is ours. The hearing has not taken place."

Tom grinned at her. "You really want me to tell you?"

"Of course," Seven said.

Tom grinned again, and then he did.