Flashback - Diane Carey [10]
The sympathy in her eyes embarrassed him. She saw that, evidently, and turned toward the door.
"Kes," he found himself saying. When she turned back, he added, "I appreciate your attempt to improve my frame of mind. However, at the moment ... it is a futile effort."
Her blond hair appeared particularly creamy in the muted candlelight. She paused, as if there were something she wished to say that caused her some unease. Finally her pleasant lips parted.
"I understand," was all she said. "Good night."
She did understand, and that in itself complicated his reaction.
With simple elegance she strode out. Somehow Kes managed to make a rather cool exit seem appropriate and warm. How did she do that?
Exhausted by the small exchange, Tuvok forced himself to sit again before the pile of glass rods.
He closed his eyes. Reaching out with one hand, he found the first rod.
"A house cannot stand without a foundation . . . logic is the foundation of control. . ."
Zero six-fifty hours the next morning.
"Morning" being relative.
Tuvok walked the corridor of the Starship Voyager with forced determination. The corridor pretended innocence, but there was something lurking behind the walls. He sensed it on a primitive level, and that alone was cause for suspicion. There was an identity at play here, and it was not his.
He disliked sensing anything. He preferred to know, to be sure, to have numbers and facts, to be able to prove. Handing the captain a report riddled with emotion and surfaceless concerns was inadequate. Appearing less than at his peak was inadequate. He had risen as far as he wished to rise on this vessel, for to rise higher would be to put Commander Chakotay and the captain out of their positions, or to rise there after they were dead, and he had no desire for either of those contingencies. He and Chakotay had their differences, but those did not as yet include sufficient stress for Tuvok to wish him away, or even to wish him the slightest ill.
He found himself relieved to have had that thought before Chakotay appeared beside him. Had a door panel opened and the first officer emerged? Tuvok had heard nothing.
Yes, the exec was now striding beside him.
"Mr. Tuvok," Chakotay bridged uneasily, "good morning."
"Good morning, sir," Tuvok responded, hoping his manner seemed much more normal than he felt.
"So . . . how are you feeling this morning?"
"If you are referring to yesterday's incident, I have not experienced any further problems," Tuvok responded, rather more sharply than he intended. "I am fit for duty."
As if he were part Vulcan himself and understood, or at least was trying to understand, Chakotay gazed at him almost warmly. "I didn't ask because I'm concerned about your ability to perform. I'm concerned about you."
Tuvok bristled with embarrassment. "There is no need for concern."
Chakotay actually moved an inch or two farther away as they strode together toward main engineering.
"Sorry I asked," he offered.
Tuvok felt his brow tighten. He had worked among humans for decades now, and discovered that rudeness was all too easy for Vulcans to inflict if cautions were not observed.
And he had no desire to be rude. Not even with Chakotay, who obviously was making a gesture of unnecessary support.
Slowing his pace a little, Tuvok gazed at the deck for a moment, then looked up. "My apologies, Commander. I am distracted. I spent fourteen hours last night in deep meditation, trying to determine the source of my aberrant behavior." He hesitated a moment, then admitted, "I could not."
Perhaps as a kind of gesture of his own, he let some of his agitation show through. Perhaps he had no choice.
"Maybe you should try to forget about it for a while," Chakotay offered mildly. "I've found that when you don't think about a problem, sometimes the solution comes to you."
Being of Native American descent, Chakotay seemed to understand the value of cleansing the mind, pausing for