Flashback - Diane Carey [24]
She headed out.
Tuvok picked up the pot of tea as if he didn't realize that Janeway was still there. The memory was pulling him away from the reality, because, for him, this was the reality of the moment.
He picked up his teapot and headed for the door.
Janeway fell in beside him and matched his pace.
"You never brought me tea," she pointed out lightly, eyeing him in much the same way Janice Rand had.
He glanced at her, almost flinching as if he were surprised to see her, then relaxing as if realizing who she was.
"You prefer coffee," he mentioned. "And Vulcan coffee would paralyze your nervous system and atrophy your pancreas. But I will make you some, if you wish."
A strange, surreal place. Surreal, only because this in fact was real. Or had been real once.
Venturing into the past in any case was somehow unnatural, no matter how fascinating. Janeway was aware of her mind playing tricks on her, beginning to believe this was happening around her. She was hovering in the shadows of the bridge, even though she knew these people couldn't see her, even though she knew they weren't really people at all, but only phantoms.
Yet she could more than see them. She sensed, felt, believed their presence, could smell the odors of the bridge . . . the carpet, the freshly painted bulkheads. How could a memory have scent?
And the scent of tea, too.
Tuvok was just handing the brew to his captain.
Captain Sulu was supremely Vulcan in his manner-very subdued, unflappable, with that glint
of underlying amusement Janeway had seen in some Vulcans.
Not Tuvok, but some.
"Outstanding," Captain Sulu said after sipping the tea. "I may have to give you a promotion."
From one of the bridge stations, Commander Rand smiled, and that little bit of attention made Tuvok stiffen with self-consciousness.
"That was not my motivation, Captain," he said, irritated at being misinterpreted. "I am not attempting to curry favor with you in any way."
"Mr. Tuvok," Sulu said with a tiny curve at the corner of his lips, "if you're going to remain on my ship, you're going to have to learn how to appreciate a joke. And don't tell me Vulcans don't have a sense of humor . . . because I know better."
"I will. . . work on it, sir."
"Very good. And thanks again."
Janeway controlled her own grin in case Tuvok glanced at her, but she couldn't help being pleased at the common train of thought between herself and this echo of early Starfleet leadership. Then she remembered-Captain Sulu had served his longest post aboard the Enterprise, under Captain James T. Kirk and First Officer Spock. Spock, the first Vulcan to enter Starfleet, the prototype for many who came after. His had been the most true battle of personal will, trying to find a place for the stern, deep-laden control of emotions among a crew of suspicious and uneased humans who were constantly coaxing those emotions out. Spock's will and method had been
severely test ed, sometimes cruelly shredded, and ultimately molded into a whole new kind of Vulcan. Most Vulcans before him had stayed on their own planet or served aboard ships manned solely by other Vulcans. Tuvok, so much less malleable than many, even than many Vulcans, could never function in a human crew if the tolerance of humans and others hadn't been tempered by those such as Spock and the early Starfleet crews with whom he served.
Sulu took another sip of tea, and Tuvok retreated to his science station in the forward portion of the bridge, near the main viewer. Janeway glanced about self-consciously, then followed him and stepped to his side.
She glanced back at Sulu, absorbing the way unforgiving bridge lighting creased his Asian features and made his black hair look like a helmet.
"He doesn't look anything like his portrait at Starfleet Headquarters," she mentioned.
"In the twenty-third century," Tuvok said, "holographic imaging resolution was less accurate."
Janeway looked at him. That was