Voyager Vignettes III

Meditation/Moving On/Intimation
by
Darrel W. Beach

Jan. 1997


	The lights in his quarters were set 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 psychotic Ensign Suder, 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 his candles of incense, the Vulcan 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 in
others, 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 frought 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 himself
once again to quit his murdurous hobby, motivated by the closeness of
space and the rapid familiarity of 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, had so many years of experience
in this, 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, Tuvok hoped that tending to his flowers would
provide extra solace for his troubled mind.

	Awakening, Suder hoped that tending to his flowers would
provide extra solace for his troubled mind.

				-----||-----

	It was finally over; the journey of the nomadic U.S.S Voyager
was at an end.  Despite all the perils the ship and crew had endured,
Kathryn Janeway had delivered on her promise to return them home - a
little bruised and battered, but safely nonetheless.  One thing she
prided herself on was keeping her word.
	Even as she stood outside the yard of her home, she could still
hardly believe that it wasn't all a figment of her imagination.  After
all the time travelling through the cold depths of uncharted space, the
condition of her house and property appeared unaltered, preserved to
the exact day she had last set foot here.  The garden was fresh with
the sweet scents of azaleas and irises; the grass was lush and dewy and
in need of a trim; the birch was in its full splendor, casting a cool
shade across the yard.
	The playful barking of a dog interrupted her nostalgia of the
scenery, but with a growing disbelief she recognized it as the warm
greeting of her old friend Molly Malone.  It seemed incredible, that
she would manage to survive this long, long enough to welcome her owner
and companion back to the homestead.  Kathryn spun to her left, only to
see a shaggy mass of rusty fur bound across the yard and around the
corner of the house to the back.  It struck her as odd that the Irish
setter hadn't tackled her upon sight, but then considering how long she
had been away, maybe Molly Malone had forgotten her scent.
	Eager to reacquaint herself with her old companion, Kathryn
followed the path to the backyard.  The vision that unfolded made her
heart burst with joy.  Through the open gate she spied the form of her
long-lost lover, Mark.  The facial features were a little more etched,
the hair beginning to grey at the temples, but it was still the same
man who captured her affections so long ago.  She couldn't put into
words how much it meant to her that he was still here, tending to Molly
Malone.  In her heart she knew Mark hadn't forgotten her.
	"Mark!" she cried out excitedly, but he seemed not to hear her.
Again she bellowed his name, but to no avail; his attention was clearly
elsewhere.
	Kathryn puzzled over what it might be until she heard the
ebullient laughter of young children and the yapping of puppies.  No
doubt the scene was more than distracting, but it left her a more
curious riddle: since obviously Molly Malone was too advanced in age to
bear young, whose puppies were they?  Through rational thought she
deduced that they must belong to one of the pups from Molly's first
litter.  It would also explain why her canine friend didn't recognize
her; more than likely it was this pup she had mistaken for her
companion.  A slight stab of grief struck her at the thought that
perhaps Molly Malone had passed on after all.  Still, it comforted her
knowing that Mark had kept the pup, to give her something of Molly to
remember.
	Reaching the gate entrance, Kathryn took in the view with a
sudden horror.  The children whom she had heard - which she assumed
were visiting neighborhood kids to play with the puppies - bore a
strong resemblance to her lover.  The same fair hair, the same eyes; it
was unmistakable.  The nightmarish spectacle progressed, as an unknown
woman appeared from within her home.  Kathryn could not see her face,
but the glint of the golden band encircling her finger was all she
needed to see.
	Kathryn was completely helpless as she watched her paradise
shatter before her like so much fine stemware.  She vainly attempted to
intercept the woman's path, to grab Mark by the cuff of his shirt and
demand an explanation of what she was witnessing, but her feet were
rooted into place.  Every moment that passed seemed to lengthen her
distance from him, out of reach from her grasp, until it felt like she
was a mile away.

	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.

				-----||-----

	The dining room table was elegantly adorned for the night's
occasion: sterling silverware, bone china, crystal champagne glasses -
right down to the white cotton tablecloth.  The freshly lit pair of
tapered candles cast just the right amount of light in the darkened
room, glimmering like the twin stars of Vendrax as seen from his home
on a warm summer night.  It had taken him over five hours to prepare,
but it had been worth it; everything was in perfect order.  This would
be an evening she would remember for a long time.
	Neelix started pacing the room, burning off the nervous energy
quietly accumulating within him.  He remembered the first time he met
Kes, the victim of a needless beating at the hands of the Kazon-Ogla.
Despite the swollen and discolored welts masking her alabaster skin, he
was instantly drawn by her flawless beauty.  Even more alluring was her
determination and thirst for life and adventure, which she made evident
by her explorations to the dry, desolate surfaces of Ocampa and her
defiance to the Ogla warriors.  From that moment on he determined to
remove her from all the harms of the universe.  This remembrance made
him smile with satisfaction, knowing he'd triumphed in that endeavor.
	"Neelix?  What's going on?" asked his spritely companion, who
found herself walking into shadows.  Stumbling across the room, Kes
aimed straight for the source of illumination.  She eyed the spread on
the table with curiosity mixed with delight.  "Oh, Neelix, this looks
wonderful!  But why?  I don't understand."
	The Talaxian bubbled over with excitement.  "Today is our
eighteen month anniversary, my sweet!  I wanted to surprise you with a
special dinner.  It was Lieutenant Paris' suggestion to use the
candles; he told me it's a common practice among humans, to set the
right atmosphere."
	"Well, that would explain why he acted so peculiarly when I saw
him today," she remarked to herself.
	Neelix approached his mate and cupped her chin in one hand.
"Do you know how much you mean to me, my dearest Kes?  My life would be
empty and without meaning if I didn't have you here to share it.  If
you were ever lost, I'd shift heaven and earth to get you back.  I just
love you so much."
	She smiled affectionately back at him.  "I know you do, Neelix.
Just being here, on this ship, every day reminds how much you care for
me, and how much I care for you, too."
	They stood there for the longest time in silence, mesmerized by
each other's gaze.  The two lovers didn't even consider the meal lying
on the dining table, now cold.

END SERIES III