Pathways - Jeri Taylor [212]
Nothing in his experiences aboard the Excelsior altered his basic perception of this species: although gregarious, valiant, and clever, they were ruled by emotion. Increasingly, the strain of maintaining the rigors of cthia while living among humans became exhausting, sapping his energy and fragmenting his mental disciplines.
He longed for retreat. He had begun to dream of the desert, of its unknowable mysteries and vast silences. It was a cleansing place, which baked confusion and disquietude from one’s mind and left purity and serenity in their place.
When the Excelsior returned to Earth, he tendered his resignation from Starfleet and returned to Vulcan on the first ship that had passenger space. The closer the vessel came to his homeworld, the more confident Tuvok was of his decision, and when he stood before his parents some days later, he was suffused with a sense of clarity and purpose.
“I have fulfilled your wishes, and broadened my experiences. I am no longer a child, and must now determine my own path. I have decided to pursue the study of Kolinahr.”
Tuvok thought he detected an expression of satisfaction on his father’s face, but he was more concerned with his mother’s reaction. He had already determined his plan, regardless of what his parents said, but he would prefer their acquiescence because he didn’t want his mind cluttered with the ragged remnants of their disapproval.
So he was gratified when his mother nodded once, firmly, signaling her compliance. “And where will you pursue this study?” she queried.
“At the Temple of Amonak,” he replied. It was the most rigorous of the Kolinahr temples, the one where he could study with M’Fau. The temple Sophie had attended. He would remain cloistered within its walls for two years before being allowed to emerge into the world again, even for a brief visit. He had no doubt that his parents would have preferred that he choose a less stringent order for his studies. He was their only child, and had been gone from them for ten years. They had probably anticipated some interaction with him once he returned to Vulcan.
“The life of an ascetic is not an easy one,” his father said. “It will test you severely.”
“That is precisely why I have chosen it,” replied Tuvok. “After living among humans, I must be cleansed through denial and struggle. I have become soft, and dependent on creature comforts. I require the disciplines of Kolinahr.”
And so it was that Tuvok, after a month in his parents’ company—a month in which they found they had much to share—entered the temple of Amonak and took the oath of dedication. He was now bound to the disciplines of Kolinahr and he felt, even more than when he had entered his parents’ house a month ago, that he had finally come home.
Tuvok spent six years in the sanctuary of Amonak, a time during which he began to achieve the mastery of his instincts that he had always thought must be possible. He realized how uncontrolled he had been during his first thirty years, when confusion, puzzlement, and uneasiness bubbled so closely to the surface. He vowed to do everything in his power to subdue those treacherous feelings.
He lived in a small cell, barely three meters square, and slept on a pallet on the floor. The walls were Vulcan sandstone, thick and white, effectively blocking both heat and sound. A small table for writing and an isochromatic lamp were the only other furnishings. No adornments graced the walls, no mementos of his prior life cluttered the table. This simplicity was not required by the brothers and sisters of Amonak, and indeed many other penitents had cells that were comfortably furnished and even decorated. The criterion dictated by the priests was “surroundings which provide the least distraction from pursuits of the mind,” as they wisely realized that there were those who would be inattentive to their studies if their minds were on the austerity of their habitats.
Tuvok disdained this indulgence, which he considered