~ Tuvok ~
Tuvok was sitting on the floor of the cabin, legs crossed, back straight, regulating his breathing for meditation. Vorik was doing the same, and Icheb was already in bed, asleep. The lights were out to enhance concentration. He inhaled for ten counts, and then exhaled for ten counts. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. It was an infinite pattern that bestowed the most fundamental stability in Tuvok's life. He had found at an early age that being alone with his thoughts provided him with a certain…satisfaction. Being alone with one's katra, the darkness, the quiet…
Crash!
Vorik was immediately on his feet. Icheb sat up in bed, breathing heavily. As for Tuvok, he merely opened his eyes, perturbed that his private moment had been interrupted. He reached for the small oil lamp he had and lit the flame, casting a shadow onto the intruders.
Seven of Nine and the Doctor were near the entrance, trying to straighten out the lamp they had knocked over. The Doctor was actually a bit red in the face from having caused such a disturbance. When they had it back up, Seven reached across the Doctor and turned it on. Icheb was still in bed, and his breathing was regulated, while Vorik was poised with a phaser, ready to defeat the trespassers. Tuvok stood.
"At ease, Ensign." Vorik lowered his weapon as his eyes adjusted to the light.
"Good grief, Tuvok! We could have killed ourselves walking in here, or at least Seven could have! Why were the lights off?" The Doctor looked incredibly annoyed, so Tuvok drew a breath in hopes to mollify them.
"Doctor, as you well know, I routinely meditate at 2200." Tuvok replied in a monotone.
"Well, why did you start early tonight? Did you forget about us?" The Doctor challenged.
"No. I was well aware of your absence. However, you and Seven were not back by you usual time, 2105. I had assumed that you were both preoccupied with other assignments and were unable to come back tonight, hence why I did not wait up.
"Oh. I…I hadn't realized it was so late!" The Doctor turned towards Seven. "We need to get you to bed! Here's a hypospray to make sure you get a good night's sleep." The Doctor procured a hypospray from behind the bed on a small shelf. With a hand under her elbow, he guided Seven to her bed, still fully clothed. Apparently, the Doctor was unaware of that fact. Once she was tucked in, he turned back to the others, although Icheb was already fast asleep.
"Well, Tuvok, Vorik, I'm sorry for disturbing you both. I hope your meditation goes well!" He flashed a smile at them both and waved, while taking off his mobile emitter at the same time, fading away. Tuvok turned to Vorik.
"Vorik, may I suggest resigning to bed early tonight? It will take too long to achieve the desired meditative state, and we will deprive ourselves of the energy we will need for tomorrow." Vorik nodded acknowledgement and turned to prepare himself for sleep. Tuvok did the same, but found himself unable to put his mind fully at rest. As soon as the younger Vulcan was asleep, Tuvok headed outside, under the stars.
The solar system of Haven was crowded with stars. Just last week, Tuvok recalled running into two ensigns who had been trying to pick out shapes in the heavens. The cluster of stars that were 46.5º to the north east of his vantage point had been dubbed "shipwreck" and indeed, they did bear resemblance to a shipwreck; the large triangle with a column of stars rising above it was the splintered mast of the old seafaring ships, a group of stars beneath it the rollicking waves and jagged rocks. The symbolism of this constellation was not lost on the Vulcan, or the rest of the crew, for that matter.
Tuvok seated himself against one of the walls of their habitat, facing the next one, which was occupied by the Captain, commander, Lt. Paris, and Lt. Torres. Small streaks of lamp light were visible from the cracks in the wall, voices whispering from inside the wooden box, plotting, scheming…
Drawing a breath, Tuvok rooted himself firmly in reality again. Imagination was a dangerous thing Tuvok chided himself. Vulcans were essentially the same as humans, and a creative imagination was no exception to that. Children were instructed at an early age on Vulcan to control their thoughts, that it was a wistful thing to go about daydreaming, although most still indulged until a later age. Nevertheless, the mind's eye was persistent, and Tuvok had caught himself on more than one occasion. No doubt, it was the effects of his illness. On Voyager, the Doctor had been able to create a medicine to help slow down the process, but without the aid of a replicator, he was unsure of what would happen. The effects of the disease…unsettled him, even through his barrier against emotions. The lack of disorder that would come over him was appalling to a Vulcan. A friend of his on Vulcan, Varan, had a father who had contracted the disease, during a time when mind melds were still experimental. It had never occurred to doctors to use his family's telepathic abilities to cure him. Sarban was kept under quarantine, and was allowed a visit once a month from his family. Tuvok had gone once, on the orders of his mother, to accompany Varan's mother, T'Vel, as her son could not go.
Tuvok entered the room behind T'Vel. It was sparsely decorated, and the lights were dim. The attendant who had escorted them in forewarned Tuvok about Sarban's medical condition. He had hardly believed that Sarban could succumb to such a state. Sarban was a model Vulcan, praying in the morning and at sunset, working the Disciplines with diligence, giving enough time to his family to bring up three well-disciplined children, and still making breakthrough's at the Vulcan Research Center.
But as Tuvok spotted Sarban, all of his preconceived notions of the Vulcan vanished.
Sarban was hunched in a corner, muttering to himself, toying with something in his hands. He hadn't turned around to acknowledge his wife, but the momentary pause in his motions gave Tuvok a sign that he was aware of their presence. T'Vel took her spot in the solitary chair in the center of the room, Tuvok taking up position behind her. He was unsure what T'Vel hoped to accomplish, with Sarban being in this state.
"Varan has started work at the Vulcan Research Center, studying the effects of transporters on…" T'Vel started to talk to Sarban in the monotone, emotionless voice that characterized Vulcans. She continued for 33 minutes before stopping.
Until then, Sarban had given no indication that he was paying the slightest attention to his wife's stories of their children, their home, their life. But when she stopped, Sarban turned his face toward the two intruders.
Sarban's eyes had become 1.4 cm wider, giving him the appearance of a scared child. His hair was messy, and his clothes ragged. The monstrous eyes focused in on his wife, and then on Tuvok. Deeming neither one a threat, he turned around and crawled over to T'Vel, hands still clenched on his treasure. Laying a head on T'Vel's lap, he opened his fist, and let the remains of a family picture flutter into her knees like dying birds. T'Vel simply placed a hand on his bent form and muttered a prayer for the ill in Ancient Vulcan under her breath that sounded very rehearsed and heartless. With a parting pat on his back, she stood, released herself from Sarban's grasp, and left. Tuvok, still perplexed by Sarban's state, stood rooted to the ground, watching Sarban's reaction.
Sarban, with all the energy left in him, stood as straight as his crooked back would allow, hobbled over to the plexiglas door, and banged on it with his fists, his voice raised, crying for his wife. The attendant came in and tried to mollify Sarban, while ushering Tuvok out. Tuvok set a brisk pace to catch up with T'Vel, who had continued on down the dark hallway without looking back, the cries of "T'Vel! T'Vel!" following them both.
Tuvok's head snapped up, awaking himself from the memory. A trail of tears had worked its way down Tuvok's face. Implausible in any other Vulcan, but Tuvok could not justify his condition with himself. And it created a rage inside the Vulcan that could not be felt at all.