"Letter from the Admiral"
by Ronda Sexton 

Tom,

Starfleet has informed me that you are alive.  I understand you are 
now Voyager's Chief Conn Officer.  I can't imagine what Kathryn 
Janeway was thinking.  How many people have you managed to kill 
this time with your screw-ups this time?  How much more blood has 
stained the family name?

I don't know why she even bothered giving you a commission.  You'll 
just screw up again, you know you always do.  If I had my, you'd 
never even have gotten out of the New Zealand penal colony.  That's 
where a low-life loser like you belongs.

You'll fail, and who knows how many Voyager crew members you'll 
kill when you screw up as usual.  The only place on Voyager you 
belong is the brig.

Your EMH tells me you're his assistant in sickbay as well.  Again, I 
don't know what Kathyrn could have possibly been thinking to allow 
this.  A failure like you treating sick and injured people?  I shudder 
to think how many people will die because of you.  More blood to 
stain the family name.

Then, as if you haven't disgraced our family enough, you've taken a 
Klingon half-breed for a lover.  You disgust me.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  You're no longer my son.  I 
never want to see you again.  As far as I am concerned, you can stay 
in the Delta Quadrant forever.

Adm. Owen Paris
Starfleet Command.