DARK BLUE

“Another Good Reason to Hate the French,” or

“What Idiots Choose Paris over Locarno?”

For a variety of reasons, I'm not overly fond of Tom Paris, but I must concede that it’s not entirely his fault. He, like many clones, was flawed at the moment of his creation … or, rather, re-creation.

First, there are those blond pretty girl looks that make most women swoon, and most men who are truly men want to hurl—either their lunch or Paris through a transparent aluminum window. The rakish twinkle in those baby blues … the insouciant smirk … frankly, you should be allowed on general principles to kick the shit out of anyone possessing these features and persona.

Second, despite his attempts to portray himself as such (mostly to troll trim, from what we saw in early Voyager) he was never a “bad boy,” despite what some viewers might think or claim. Paris was, instead, that particularly annoying subset of “bad boy” we’ll call for these purposes ‘naughty boy.’ He never did anything truly evil, or (for a long time, at any rate) even something that might make you think, “Whoa. This guy has a pair on him.”

Before you disagree, think about what we know, and what we’ve seen: Pre-Voyager, Young Lieutenant Tom evidently made a piloting error that resulted in the deaths of several shipmates … then, to avoid serious consequence, kept silent concerning his own culpability … and finally reversed his decision and confessed as a result of nagging guilt. I count an act of incompetence, another of cowardice, and finally one of inability to keep the secret that you yourself made necessary—all in all, a trilogy of stupidity. Those are hardly the actions of a “bad boy.”

After having been cashiered from the service, though, he embarked on an "I'll show all of you … especially you, Daddy!" career with the Maquis. Now that might well have gotten him the “street cred” he’d have needed to merit the label “bad boy”—if he hadn’t been captured within a couple of weeks of joining up (having gone on approximately zero missions of consequence, I’d wager). Instead, the “rebel without a clue” is snagged by Starfleet on one of his first forays out of the Maquis cradle. “A” for effort, Tommy, but … I’m sorry. A misspent fortnight, followed by a few months in the cushiest prison ever devised by liberal wienie writers does not qualify you for the revered title you so desperately seek.

From what I saw, Tom Paris devolved steadily from pretty boy through pretty pudgy boy to pretty well whipped boy. The only moment in seven years that gave me hope for him was when he took the Delta Flyer out to destroy some underwater facility, in defiance of both the local bureaucratic boobies and Empress Janeway herself. And, as I recall, he showed the same pattern of incompetence and remorse: As with the Maquis, he couldn’t get the job done in authentic “bad boy” fashion, and then expressed sorrow for having let ‘Mommy’ down, in genuine ‘naughty boy’ fashion.

Contrast all the above with Robert Duncan McNeill’s true stint as a “bad boy”—one Nicholas Locarno. This guy is the central figure in a cover-up that looks to preserve the careers of Nova Squadron’s members—well, their surviving members, at any rate. He schooled his trembling charges in dissemblance, evasion and outright perjury in an attempt to keep their dirty little secret from coming to light. Then, when one of them found his conscience (or lost his nerve, depending on your perspective), did he get all weepy and express remorse for his actions? Not this stud. He instead attempts to shoulder all the blame for what occurred. If you’re gonna go down, after all, you might as well go down in fuckin’ flames, right? Do I admire him? No way … but that’s not what we’re talking about here.

That is a bad boy, people. Hell, that’s a badass—the genuine article.

Naturally, that’s also the last we saw of him.

The Voyager writers, when looking for continuity with previous Trek, considered (and obviously rejected) Nicholas Locarno for the slot eventually filled by Tom Paris. A pair of reasons for this are mentioned: One, they’d have had to pay the writer of “The First Duty” a residual each time Locarno appeared in a story; and two, they decided that Nick’s actions had put him “beyond redemption.”

This has got to be one of the stupidest decisions in the history of potential characterization. Locarno would have unquestionably been the more interesting and daring choice, from a literary perspective. Instead of showing a real developmental arc, one that would have required an ascent from genuine depth of misdeed (especially if he’d actually killed or injured innocents while with the Maquis, a not-particularly-difficult happenstance to imagine), the staff instead decided to create a sanitized version of Ol’ Nick—thus diluting and defeating their very purpose, the creation of a truly compelling character.

I mean, give us a small break, will you, people? Both characters were played by the same actor … both surnamed after European cities … both implicated in a controversy involving piloting … and both lied (one outright, one via omission) to cover their involvement. It’s the perfect solution—if you’re a group of uninspired, unscrupulous jerks, that is. This allowed them both to avoid paying the clearly-earned residuals to that aforementioned writer, and to avoid the kinds of ethical questions that might well have made Voyager a significantly more compelling series than it was. Star Trek is supposed to be a morality play, and these guys took the easy road … running right over one of their fellow writers in the process, I might add. [It’s a wonder no lawsuit ensued; the guy has a Hell of a case. Then, again, someone might well have gotten a settlement out of court.]

I’ve heard they even considered a May/December (well, more like April/June, to be honest) romance between a troubled Nicholas Locarno and Captain Janeway. [I would have thought it quite interesting if at one time or another, Janeway had … how shall we say … seen the sights of Paris … both versions of Paris. This would have required casting someone a little more attractive as Owen Paris, though, I’d imagine, if only for the sake of believability and to avoid the “gross out” factor.] Evidently they decided to address those unrequited feelings in another fashion later in the series.

In other words, they gave us “Threshold,” instead.

Way to go, Einsteins.