The following presentation is rated G.
Violence. Bloodlust. Brutality. Carnage.
Lon Suder clenched his fists and closed his eyes, riding out the
wave of emotions that swept through him. These moments were an
increasing source of frustration now that Lt. Tuvok had shown him the
way of logic and control. He thumped the desktop angrily, upset with
his accursed diseased mind, wondering if he could ever find an end to
his suffering. He then took a deep breath, reigning in his rising
temper. He was overreacting again. Tuvok would never approve of such
behavior.
The Betazoid turned off the desktop terminal and paced the room,
trying to expend his nervous energy. Suder found his confinement to
quarters a difficult situation to live in, especially during extended
periods of time. Tuvok normally stopped by every couple of days,
either to discuss botany or to play a game of chess, but lately his
visits were becoming more infrequent and Suder was having trouble
finding ways to occupy his time. All of this idleness was putting a
greater amount of stress on him. He needed something that would take
his mind off the violent impulses running around inside.
Tranquillity. Calm. Strength. Balance.
He set the lights in his quarters at a low intensity, just as any
Vulcan preferred when preparing for meditation. Although the condition
was not an absolute necessity, meditation always heightened the senses
and reduced lighting would prevent undue damage to the eyes once the
session concluded. The temperature of the room was a bit cool, since
it was set to Federation standard, but it mattered not to him. Vulcans
had a tolerance for a great many things, and the inconvenience would
soon be forgotten anyway. Therefore, it would be illogical to adjust
the environmental controls at this time.
Tuvok usually found great comfort in meditation: it allowed
clarity of thought and purpose, a way of reaffirming the calm control
of logic that all Vulcans valued. However, ever since the mind-meld
with the psychopathic Betazoid, Tuvok's meditation served more as a
means of therapy, to assist him in coping with the unstable emotions
that had now become a part of him. The impulses that once threatened
his health and sanity were now nowhere near as severe or frequent, but
it was a slow process of healing.
Igniting some candles of incense, the chief security officer
spread himself out on his bunk, his eyes closed and hands steepled
together atop his chest. Almost automatically his breathing deepened
and slowed, his heart rate dropped, and with them his mind began to
recite the verses of Surak's teachings. Tuvok looked into himself, now
in a state of centeredness.
Reason. Logic. Control. Inner peace.
It was those things that Suder sought most in his endeavor to
take his life back from the violent tendencies that haunted him. All
his life the Betazoid surrendered to the need to inflict pain and
death, not ever really knowing why, only that it had to be done. Once
he had tried to defeat this bloodlust, trying every kind of treatment
and therapy conceivable in modern medicine. In the end he found the
only possible solution was to give in to the destructive urges, hoping
against all hope that perhaps one day his appetite for death would be
sated. Unfortunately, that day never arrived. Whether by chance or
predestination, he found himself isolated on a solitary Federation
vessel, deserted in a distant region of the galaxy fraught with
hostile, conniving peoples and uncertainty. Now, suddenly, there was
no outlet for which to unleash his macabre craving for bloodshed.
The day of Crewman Frank Darwin's killing was a mixed blessing in
disguise. From the onset of their arduous journey he avowed once again
to acquit himself of this murderous hobby, motivated by the closeness
of space and the rapid familiarity with those aboard. And for a while
he had shown remarkable restraint. However, the mounting pressure to
kill finally became too overwhelming to suppress. That was when Lt.
Tuvok proposed the notion of performing a Vulcan mind-meld in an
attempt to understand the ensign's motive for murdering the junior
engineer -- which, of course, there was none -- and in so doing opened
up a realm of contentment and resolve Suder had never aspired to taste.
It now seemed so much easier to push the violent instincts aside and
view the world from a quiet, rational perspective.
However, inner peace came at a price. A regimen of mental
exercises and meditation was demanded of him by Tuvok in order to keep
his resistance up. And so it was that he found himself now, deep in
the recesses of his own mind, attempting to focus his thoughts and
energies into the calming influence of logic.
Hate. Rage. Confusion. Despair.
The emotions came unbidden, and in one brief moment he felt his control slipping from him. It was unsettling, that even though he had an upper hand in dealing with them, they could still affect him so profoundly. In that one moment he longed to hear the sound of bones fragmenting and cartilage tearing, to scream a blood-curdling cry of anguish and torment, to free himself of a tortured existence. But just as quickly as it came, he exerted his mental powers to gather up his emotions and submerge them under a barricade of control. Hopefully time would be the provider of wounds healed.
Awakening, Suder hoped that tending to his flowers would provide extra solace for his troubled mind. He said a silent prayer of thanks to Lt. Tuvok for providing him with a new arsenal of weapons to fight his demons. They had yet to cure him, but right now he felt closer to a normal life than he had ever known.
Awakening, Tuvok hoped that tending to his flowers would provide extra solace for his troubled mind. Once again the battle was waged, and once again he arose the victor, overcoming impulses that were not truly his own. Still, he wondered if he would ever be able to purge himself of these noxious emotions.
Kathryn awoke from the nightmare, a clammy sheen of
perspiration covering her skin. It frustrated her to no end that they
still recurred, even after all this time. She had accepted the fact
that Mark and Molly Malone were a distant part of her life now -- or so
she believed. The bad dreams suggested that she might yet have some
reservations.
A certain first officer of hers, whose counsel she had come to
trust, implied that the dreams were a manifestation of the guilt and
regret she felt for being unable to say good-bye properly. He also
strongly recommended that she talk to her spirit guide, who could help
her move on to the next phase of her life, and allow herself to open
up to someone new.
At the last piece of advice she dismissed as she always did; it
just wasn't acceptable for the captain to get involved in a
relationship. There were already too many responsibilities with which
to concern herself, a romantic involvement would be too much of a
distraction. It was a distraction she couldn't afford, not when it
meant jeopardizing the safety of her ship and crew. She had made a
promise to return them all safely to the Alpha Quadrant.
One thing she prided herself on was keeping her word.