Title: Surrogates
Author: Dave Rogers
Series: VOY, late series 4
Date: 20th July 1999
Rating: R
Codes: P/T, Tu/P
Warning: Contains implied m/m sexual situations and violence
Summary: Tuvok has been away from home for too long. Paris and
Torres find themselves helping him through Pon Farr.
Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Jamelia for beta reading. Jim
Wright's "Delta Blues" website was, as always, a rich source of
background material.
Disclaimer: Paramount are the real parents of the characters, I'm
just standing in.
Surrogates
It was, Kathryn Janeway reflected as she drained the last drops of her
coffee, perhaps the worst attended senior staff meeting Voyager had
ever seen.
"Sit down, Tom, Harry," she waved an arm at the empty chairs. "Neelix
and Chakotay should be back from Delomos in about two hours. Any news
from B'Elanna?"
"Sorry, Captain, she's not going to make it either," replied Tom
Paris. "The EMH program turned out to be so fragmented he'll have to
be offline until she's done a complete rebuild. We're talking three,
maybe four hours. She won't trust anyone else to do it, and she won't
leave till it's done. You know B'Elanna."
And I know how you feel about sickbay duty, thought Janeway. Paris
had probably given Torres some encouragement; not that it made much
difference. As he'd said, she knew B'Elanna.
"Seven?"
"According to Megan Delaney, she spent the last eighty-four hours
working on the Astrometrics lab," replied Kim. "She'll need a double
regeneration cycle."
"Well, we'll start as soon as Tuvok gets here, then. Any idea why he's
late?" Janeway frowned slightly. Tuvok never usually arrived more than
twenty seconds early or late; she'd been amusing herself by checking,
this past month. At Paris and Kim's shaken heads and negative replies,
she decided to check.
"Computer, state location of Lieutenant-Commander Tuvok."
"Lieutenant-Commander Tuvok is in his quarters," came the reply, to be
greeted by six raised eyebrows.
"Janeway to Tuvok." She didn't know quite what to say. "We're all
waiting for you up here, Tuvok."
The reply was hoarse, gasping. "I regret... that I am indisposed.
I require... medical assistance..."
"Computer, lock on to Mr. Tuvok and beam to sickbay," Janeway reacted
immediately. "Tom, you'd better get down there."
"On my way, Captain."
As Paris left, Janeway turned to Harry Kim and said, "I think that
just leaves you, Mr. Kim. Report, please."
Harry wilted visibly under Janeway's steely gaze. He was just past the
first sentence, when her face slipped, and she smiled.
"At ease, Harry. There doesn't seem much point going on with this
meeting right now. Let's try again later, shall we?"
"Yes, Captain," replied Harry gratefully.
---------
Tom Paris ran the medical tricorder over Tuvok for the third time.
"As far as I can tell, Tuvok, with these readings you'd be perfectly
healthy if you were half Klingon and half Talaxian. Is there something
you haven't been telling me?"
"I regret, Mr. Paris, that I cannot claim to be the offspring of Mr.
Neelix and Lieutenant Torres." Tom could almost swear that he heard
Tuvok chuckle. "Therefore, logically, I may be in less than perfect
health. Do your readings contain any information that may be of use?"
Readings aside, Tom's instincts were beginning to suggest a diagnosis.
"Elevated hormonal levels, major chemical imbalance, blood pressure
high enough to register. It seems to have gone down since you came in
here, though." He'd administered a sedative hypospray almost as soon
as he'd seen Tuvok lying on the biobed, shaking and twitching. Now,
three hours later, it seemed to have taken effect. "I think you should
take it easy till the Doc's back on line and we can find out what's
the matter."
"That will not be necessary, Mr. Paris. However..."
Tuvok hesitated, seeming uncharacteristically self-conscious.
"Mr. Paris, may I speak to you in private?"
Tom looked round the sickbay. B'Elanna was sat at the console in the
Doctor's office, working furiously at his holoprogram, and looked as
if nothing short of a salvo of photon torpedoes would get her
attention. Otherwise, the area was deserted, not surprisingly given
that Voyager had just entered orbit round a peaceful planet with warp
technology and a willingness to trade. "Sure, Tuvok. What can I do for
you?"
Three years before, Tuvok had undertaken a mind meld with Paris, in
the process of conducting a murder enquiry on Benar. Since then, there
had been times when Tom felt an uncanny ability to read Tuvok's moods
and emotions - for emotions there were, suppressed beneath a lifetime
of mental discipline. It appeared that this was to be one of those
times, as Tom began to understand that Tuvok was deeply ashamed and
embarrassed.
"It is not a matter I wish to discuss in such a public place, Mr.
Paris," Tuvok continued. As he did so, B'Elanna Torres looked up; she
appeared to have finished her work. "Would you please accompany me to
my quarters?"
As they walked together in silence, Tom wondered what a Vulcan might
be ashamed of. He had a worrying feeling that he already knew, that
there was only one aspect of Vulcan life that could break through the
stoic, logical Vulcan exterior. Pon Farr, the time of mating. And, of
course, Tuvok had been away from home for over four years now; any
betting man would recognise a better than evens chance.
But how did it involve him? As they reached Tuvok's quarters, he felt
he was about to find out.
"Computer, engage security lock, authorisation Tuvok 3215. We will not
be disturbed."
Tuvok turned to the viewport, and seemed lost in thought for several
seconds. Finally, with his back to Paris, avoiding meeting his eyes
even in their reflections, he spoke.
"Mr. Paris, you are no doubt aware of the nature of Pon Farr."
Paris was more than aware, having had his life irrevocably changed -
albeit immeasurably for the better - by the repercussions of Ensign
Vorik's first Pon Farr.
"I have reason to believe that I shall shortly be experiencing Pon
Farr myself." Tuvok hesitated, the words seeming to stick in his
throat. "It is difficult to speak of these things to another Vulcan,
and infinitely more so to one of another species. I am raising this
matter with you, however, because... Mr. Paris, some years ago you
stated that you considered yourself a friend to me. I must now ask,
have your feelings in this matter altered in any way?"
Tom swallowed, then said with an air of nervous laughter, "Well, I
wasn't thinking of proposing, but..."
"Be serious, Mr. Paris!" Tuvok hissed. His voice rose, and he paced
back and forth across the room. "The propensity of you humans to make
your feeble attempts at levity in the most critical of situations has
always..." For a few seconds, as he spoke, his eyes blazed with a
murderous intensity; but before he could finish his sentence, he
seemed to recover slightly, and said in a calmer voice, "Forgive me,
Mr. Paris. This is not an easy time. I may require assistance in its
resolution."
Composing his own features, Tom said softly, "Nothing's changed,
Tuvok. I'm your friend, and I'll do what I can to help." He was struck
by a moment's misgivings as to what help Tuvok might need from him;
but a series of memories - Tuvok on the Benari world, calmly exposing
the Numeri plot and saving his life; Tuvok investigating the Mari
black market in violent thoughts and saving B'Elanna; Tuvok and Paris
fighting side by side to survive Seska's holodeck program - convinced
him that there was too strong a bond between the two of them for him
to deny Tuvok's needs. Whatever that might entail.
"Thank you, Mr. Paris," replied Tuvok, now more composed. "Allow me to
explain what I must ask of you and Lieutenant Torres."
"B'Elanna?" The question was on Tom's lips, when their commbadges
chirped. "Captain to senior staff. Neelix and Chakotay are back, so
let's re-convene the staff meeting. Meet in the briefing room in five
minutes."
"Acknowledged." "On my way, Captain." Driven by a sense of relief,
Tom almost spoke before Tuvok had finished - and then felt slightly
ashamed of himself for the feeling. He felt something more was needed.
"Tuvok, whatever you want me to do, and however it turns out..."
He laid a hand on Tuvok's shoulder, and their residual telepathic bond
allowed him to feel Tuvok's fear and apprehension at least partly
fade, to be replaced by relief, as Tom said,
"I'll still be your friend."
--------
Kathryn Janeway prided herself on the ability to sense any conflict
between her officers before any trouble arose. As the briefing
progressed, therefore, she very quickly noticed that there was an air
of tension, and at once started to pay careful attention to Paris and
Torres, the most usual source and the safest to ignore. However, as
she outlined the state of development of Deloman technology, a
civilisation in the early stages of warp drive development and hence
potentially a trading partner, she noticed one or two private smiles
and remarks pass between them. So who was it?
"The most important feature of Deloman technology, however, and the
reason I have called this briefing," she continued, noting that Harry
Kim looked relaxed and attentive despite being seated right opposite
Seven of Nine, "is the fact that they have large reserves of high
quality dilithium crystals. B'Elanna, how do our stocks look?"
B'Elanna produced a padd and gave a quick rundown, looking round the
room and (Janeway noticed) meeting everyone's eyes at some time in the
process. So she wasn't angry at anyone, or worried at the current
stocks, which would probably see them through another two years. Who
was next?
Chakotay and Neelix had a few words to say about Deloman laws and
customs, most of which seemed largely similar to the Federation,
though with some elements more reminiscent of the Ferengi Rules of
Acquisition; all in all, not unusual for a trading civilisation at
this stage of development. Also not unusual was the way Chakotay and
Neelix conducted themselves. Clearly, neither of them was unduly
uneasy about anything.
Tom Paris spoke for the first time. "The question is, do we let the
Delomans know we don't really need the dilithium to keep the price
down, or do we play it for sympathy and go begging?"
"I believe, Captain," responded Tuvok, looking straight at Janeway,
"that it would be in our best interests to pass on no information on
our dilithium stocks. While the Delomans appear benign, it may be a
good idea to conceal any tactical advantages we may hold should they
prove hostile at some later time."
"Keep an ace up our sleeve, you mean?" countered Paris.
Janeway waited for Tuvok's expression of disapproval of Tom's gambling
slang. And waited. Until Tuvok, without looking at Tom, continued, "I
suggest that Mr. Neelix conduct our negotiations," as if he hadn't
spoken.
In her thoughts, Janeway used a piece of gambling slang of her own.
*Bingo!* Then she almost grimaced, as she realised the problem that
lay before her. If Tuvok had some minor quarrel with Paris, he'd
rather die than let anyone else get involved. Best let this one sort
itself out; but she made a mental note to keep half an eye on both of
them, and maybe have a quiet word with Tom later.
--------
Neelix had decided, Tom realised with dismay, to take his role as
Voyager's chief negotiator with the utmost seriousness. This was the
third meeting of the day, and as the same dreary sets of arguments and
counter-arguments were reiterated, Tom found himself losing the will
to live. Just my luck, he thought; if they had transporters we wouldn't
have needed to shuttle down to the planet. Just my luck to be on shift
today.
"Our dilithium crystal technology is only to be made available to the
most advanced and enlightened trading partners," said the Deloman
Trade Minister for about the tenth time, with a slow, pompous delivery
that made Tom's eyelids droop perceptibly. Quietly, he took one of the
glass swizzle sticks the Delomans provided, for some unknown reason,
with every delegate's glass of water, and, under cover of the table,
jabbed it repeatedly into the palm of his left hand.
"As I have explained, the Federation believes in respect for all other
cultures..." began Neelix, still - Tom had no idea how - keeping a
note of enthusiasm in his voice.
"...and has superior technology to our own. Why, then, do you need our
dilithium crystals?"
"Dilithium crystals are, as I said, vital to the operation of our warp
engines," repeated Neelix. Then, with a note of impatience, he added,
"We can't go anywhere without them!"
The Deloman delegation retired into a huddle for a minute or two. When
they returned, the Trade Minister announced, "We have decided that the
Federation meets our criteria for trading in advanced technology. The
trade you suggest is acceptable. Please prepare to receive the full
quantity of dilithium crystals you requested."
Tom blinked. Seven hours of haggling, and suddenly they'd caved in in
a moment. Had he missed something? For a moment, he tried to recall
the last few exchanges; but Neelix was bustling out of the room with
an air of triumph, and Tom had to follow.
As the two of them flew back to Voyager, the rear of the shuttle
carefully loaded with canisters of dilithium crystals, Tom tried to
shut out Neelix's lengthy explanations of exactly how he had countered
this argument, invalidated that one and carefully overlooked the
other. He still felt something had been wrong about the sudden Deloman
about-face, but at the moment he was more worried about the meeting he
had promised Tuvok when they got back.
--------
"Let me explain, Mr. Paris." Tuvok seemed to be fully in control now,
a day after his first approach to Tom. "There are, as I believe you
are aware, three possible resolutions to a Pon Farr."
"Mating, meditation or getting your butt kicked?" asked Tom, only to
receive a pained expression from Tuvok.
"Imprecise, but adequate. The purpose of Pon Farr is, of course, to
form a lifelong mental bond with a chosen mate." Tuvok's eyes seemed
to glaze over for a moment as he continued, "I have already formed
such a bond with T'Pel. It is my most earnest wish that this bond
should not be broken."
Tom resisted the temptation to sigh with relief, but he let out a
silent breath and felt his shoulders relax.
"What about meditation? I know it didn't work for Vorik, but..."
"Please, Mr. Paris. Recollections of the events to which you refer are
most uncomfortable." Again Tuvok paused, regaining full emotional
control before saying, "Meditation is at best an unreliable route to
resolution of the Pon Farr. I, myself, have only attempted it on two
occasions."
"And how did that work out?"
"It resulted, ultimately, in the births of our third and fourth
children."
"Right." Suppressing a laugh gave Tom a rare insight into the strength
Tuvok must bring to his own emotional control. "So that leaves getting
your..."
"Precisely, Mr. Paris. I must form a temporary emotional bond with an
individual, then fight for the right to mate with them in the ritual
of Koon-ut-Kal-if-fee. In which I must lose."
"But isn't that a fight to the death?"
"Traditionally, yes, but in recent years the fatality rate has
declined. With proper preparation I may expect a 93% chance of
survival and full recovery."
Tom drew a nervous breath. "I see where B'Elanna comes in, then. I can
see two problems, though; she might not be happy to be fought over,"
in fact, he could almost hear her indignant response right now, "and
I'm not sure I could beat you."
"You could not. My strength, stamina and fighting skill are superior
to yours. There is only one member of the crew who I am certain could
defeat me, and then only if I am suitably weakened by fasting and
meditation."
Uh-oh. Tom was starting to feel distinctly uneasy about this. "Let me
get this straight, Tuvok. You and B'Elanna are going to fight for the
right to mate with... me?"
"That is the only logical course of action."
Tom started pacing nervously back and forth across the cabin. "There's
only one thing I'd like you to explain, Tuvok."
"Why I have explained the complete plan to you, before speaking to
Lieutenant Torres?"
"No, Tuvok, that's about the only part of this that makes sense." He'd
have his work cut out breaking this to B'Elanna without her going
ballistic. If Tuvok had tried, he wouldn't have had to wait for Pon
Farr to get his ritual combat.
"Then what requires further explanation?"
Tom stopped his pacing and looked Tuvok full in the face, knowing that
the apprehension he felt was plainly visible to the Vulcan.
"What happens if you win?"
No answer was needed, and Tom suspected Tuvok didn't have the words to
frame one.
--------
For once, B'Elanna was in her element. The newly-won dilithium
crystals had to be checked, tested, graded... the whole Engineering
staff worked quietly and calmly, the reserve cabinets steadily filled,
and she could feel the sense of security that came from knowing they
had enough dilithium to see Voyager back to the Alpha Quadrant. Out of
force of habit, though, she'd insisted that the Deloman dilithium
should be separately labelled; they'd encountered so many
untrustworthy peoples out here in the Delta Quadrant that she'd barely
trust a Vulcan these days.
Feeling someone watching her, she looked up to see Tom standing by the
main entrance to Engineering. She almost laughed out loud at the
expression on his face; he was putting on his best nonchalant smile,
leaning on the wall with his legs crossed in a picture of relaxation
spoiled only by his right hand, which she could see picking nervously
at the hem of his trousers.
"Okay, Tom, out with it. Let me guess - you can't make it for dinner
tonight?" She tried to sound irritable, but couldn't keep the
amusement out of her voice.
"Dinner tonight's fine," he said calmly, putting on his best innocent
voice. "Why shouldn't it be?"
"Tom, I can read you like a padd. You've got something to tell me and
you're worried sick about how I'm going to take it. Relax, I'm having
a good day. Anyway, how bad can it be?"
He dropped the smile, and his face relaxed into a look of worried
concern. "You're right, I have got something to talk about - but not
here, it's... it's kind of sensitive."
B'Elanna suppressed a laugh, and managed to say, "My shift's over in
five minutes. Come and give me a hand with this last batch of
crystals, then we can go somewhere private and talk about your," she
couldn't resist the temptation, "embarrassing little problem, whatever
it is."
Labelling batches of dilithium crystals wasn't the most exciting job
in the galaxy, but B'Elanna always enjoyed working with Tom, and six
minutes later they arrived at her quarters relaxed and happy, arms
round each other's shoulders in a friendly embrace. The door closed
behind them, and she turned to Tom, put her free arm around his
shoulders, and said gently, as they held each other closer, "Talk."
"I, uh, it's like this," stammered Tom. *Gods, how do I explain?*
"B'Elanna, Tuvok needs our help, but it's a bit complicated."
He calmed down a little and started explaining. "You remember - hell,
how could you forget - the trouble we had with Vorik? Back on Sikari
Four?" B'Elanna remembered, and started to feel her temperature
rising. "Well, Tuvok is about to go through Pon Farr, and he needs
to..."
B'Elanna jerked backwards out of Tom's embrace, then shoved him,
slamming him against the wall. Her voice was quiet and filled with
menace, her easy calm of a few moments ago completely vanished, as she
said, "Paris, if you suggested what I think you suggested..."
She was taken completely by surprise when he burst out laughing. "You
couldn't be further from the mark, B'Elanna."
She stepped back in total confusion. Then, as Tom explained, her eyes
grew wider and the corners of her mouth began to twitch upwards.
Eventually, as he finished, she was the one laughing.
"So you're going to be the helpless object of our affections? Tom,
that's so sweet. You want me to fight a duel over you! And do I get to
have my evil way with you if I win?"
"*When* you win, B'Elanna. *When*." Tom looked decidedly uncomfortable
now. Then his voice became a little more serious. "I know, it's all
very funny, but there's more to Pon Farr than casual sex, B'Elanna.
There's a lifelong emotional bond formed in the process - and we've
both had mind melds with Tuvok, so it'll probably affect us in the
same way. Tuvok doesn't want to form that bond with anyone but T'Pel,
and I," he held her closer to him and looked deeply into her eyes,
"I think I've already formed it with you - I don't want to break that,
ever."
Something at the back of B'Elanna's mind registered exactly what Tom
had just admitted to her, and rejoiced. Resisting the temptation to
shout with joy, or maybe bite his cheek, she asked gently, "Then why
take the risk?"
"You know why, B'Elanna. You know how I feel about Tuvok. I know I give
him a hard time, what with the practical jokes, but... We both owe him
our lives. He'll die, B'Elanna, if we don't do something. I can't let
him die. I won't."
"I'd better get in training, then, Helmboy."
"For the fight?"
"No," she purred seductively, sliding her hands underneath his shirt.
"For having my evil way with you afterwards."
--------
Tuvok was far from Voyager, though his body still sat before the
meditation lamp.
His spirit strode grimly across burning red sands under a burning red
sun. In the distance was a low, wide building; his home. No calm,
serene T'pel waited there, no children or friends, merely an empty
shell of stone. He entered the shell, prepared to do what he must.
In the centre of his home, over the hearth, hung a picture. The artist
had, with a few simple strokes of bold colour, achieved what no mere
hologram or photograph ever would; he had suggested, rather than
shown, the face of T'Pel, but beneath the face he had clearly depicted
her soul, in all its strength and peace.
Gently, reverently, he reached out both hands, taking hold of either
side of the painting. Taking one deep breath, he lifted the painting
forward from the wall, turned it around, and replaced it, the blank
reverse now visible. A stick of charcoal was in his hand, had always
been in his hand. Slowly, painstakingly, he began to draw on the empty
sheet. Gradually a picture took shape, even simpler than that on the
obverse. Yet the few strokes not only showed the form of Tom Paris,
they spoke of lost childhood, of deeply rooted and carefully nurtured
self-doubt, self-hatred and disappointment. They spoke of rebirth, of
hope, of devotion to friends and, ultimately, of love rekindled. And,
deeper still - try as he might, he could not complete the sketch
without it - they spoke of B'Elanna Torres.
This would not be simple.
--------
Voyager hung lazily in a geostationary orbit, awaiting official
clearance to depart the Delomos system. Much as Janeway hated official
delays, she was happy to indulge the diplomatic foibles of a people
with whom they had traded so amicably. For the loss of a number of
items of medical technology, easily replicated, and - astonishingly -
a selection of Neelix's more pungent spices (with associated recipes),
they had gained an overwhelmingly generous supply of dilithium
crystals. Besides, while they waited she could carry on trying to
clear up the little matter that had concerned her earlier. Tuvok was
absent - his shift wouldn't start for a few more minutes - but they
weren't doing anything that required a chief pilot right now.
"Tom, if you could spare a few minutes, I'd like a word with you. My
ready room?" She spoke lightly, informally; no need to get the rumour
mill going.
"Of course, Captain," replied Tom with a note of uncertainty.
"Commander," he added, offering his seat to Chakotay with an informal
wave of his arm. Janeway made a mental note of B'Elanna's encouraging
smile to Tom from the engineering console as he followed her into the
ready room, and took the seat she offered.
Now she was there, she didn't exactly know how to start. "Tom, I don't
want to intrude on a personal matter, but is there a problem between
you and Tuvok?" She could see his defences go up as she spoke.
"Captain, I'd prefer not to talk about it. As you said, it's a
personal matter."
"I need to know anything that affects the ability of my officers to
work together, Mr. Paris." She spoke as the captain now.
Hesitantly, uncertainly, Tom replied, "Captain, I have to respect
Tuvok's confidence here. All I can say is it's a personal matter, it
won't affect our ability to work together, and," he took a deep
breath, "it would cause him a lot of embarrassment if I told you any
more. Let's just say, he's been away from home a long time."
Janeway made a quick mental calculation, and her eyes widened at the
result. "I think I see. Tom, are you sure you know what you're getting
yourselves into here?"
"No, Captain." Suddenly he grinned. "But do I ever?"
Then, just as suddenly, he was serious again. "Captain, Tuvok would
like to keep all this as quiet as possible. And he may need some time
off duty, probably about a couple of days from now. I'd guess he
hasn't asked you."
In fact, Tuvok had - well, not exactly denied everything, but neatly
and calmly side-stepped all her questions a few hours earlier. Knowing,
though, how private Vulcans were about sexual matters, Janeway could
understand and make allowances. "I'll make sure it isn't a problem,
Tom."
His thanks were interrupted by a commbadge.
"Chakotay to the Captain. The Deloman Trade Minister is hailing us."
Janeway frowned. The Minister for Extrasystem Affairs was supposed to
be the one to give departure clearance. Was this another delay? "I'll
be right there," she replied, standing up and heading for the door.
Paris followed without a word.
As they stepped back on to the bridge, Janeway noted that Tuvok was
now on duty. She nodded briefly to him, trying not to let him see her
concern. And then the Trade Minister was on screen.
"Captain Janeway, I have received some unfortunate news. I regret to
inform you that we have supplied you with a defective batch of
dilithium crystals." The Trade Minister's regret and embarrassment were
plain to see.
"Defective? In what way, Minister?" enquired Janeway.
"They are flawed on the subatomic level. Any attempt to use them will
result in their immediate disintegration, and there may be damage to
your warp drive. We deeply regret the inconvenience this may cause
you."
Janeway smiled. "Thank you for taking the trouble to inform us,
Minister. Would it be possible to replace them with another batch?"
She heard a muted "Huh!" over her right shoulder, and glanced round at
an irritated Chief Engineer. She could sympathise; B'Elanna and her
staff had put in a lot of hours, that it seemed would now be wasted.
The Trade Minister looked, if possible, even more embarrassed. "That
may be possible, Captain; there is, however, the small matter of the
upgrade charge."
"Upgrade charge? Minister, you supplied us with defective goods!"
"And our law requires that you return them instantly and pay the
appropriate charge for their replacement. I apologise for this,
Captain, and for the measures now being taken to ensure your
compliance."
"Captain, three Deloman attack cruisers just came into sensor range,"
announced Harry Kim from the ops station. "Their weapons arrays are on
line but not charged."
"Minister, give me a minute to consider our... bargaining position,"
said Janeway, hands on her hips now, her voice hardening as she spoke
the last two words. The bridge staff took note, and prepared for
action.
"Take as long as you need, Captain," replied the Trade Minister,
dropping his air of embarrassment completely now. "After all, with
defective dilithium crystals in your warp drive, we may rely on your
continued company."
Janeway made a cut-throat motion, and the commlink was terminated.
"B'Elanna, did you install any of the Deloman crystals?"
"No, Captain," replied Torres with fierce satisfaction. "We have full
warp engine capability whenever you want it."
"Now would be a good time," remarked Janeway dryly. "Take us out of
here, Mr. Paris. Warp nine."
Observers on the Deloman ships noticed Voyager's warp nacelles rotate,
but without any information on the ship's design, they failed to grasp
the significance of the operation. Seconds later, they were deprived
for ever of the chance to learn any more about the ship's design, as
Voyager seemed to gather itself, stretch out and leap into subspace.
"B'Elanna," Janeway continued once Voyager was well away, "You'd
better take a closer look at those dilithium crystals. I have a
feeling our friends weren't bluffing. See of you can find any way to
use them."
"Yes, Captain. I'll be in Engineering." B'Elanna strode to the
turbolift, muttering some choice Klingon epithets on the way.
It was through sheerest bad luck that Tuvok's left hand was resting on
the end of the tactical control panel at the moment that B'Elanna
walked by. B'Elanna hardly noticed as, passing the tactical station,
the back of her hand brushed against Tuvok's; but by the time the lift
doors closed she felt, for some reason, a great deal calmer.
The same was not true of Tuvok.
---------
"Torres to Captain Janeway." Delomos was far behind now, and B'Elanna
had had some time to analyse the Deloman dilithium in detail.
"Go ahead, B'Elanna."
"Captain, I can just about detect signs of subatomic flaws in some of
the dilithium crystals, but I can't really tell how widespread they
are. Our warp engines are far more tolerant than the Delomans', so we
may be able to use them." B'Elanna wasn't as confident as she sounded,
but she wanted something useful to come out of this whole annoying
incident. "I suggest testing them in a shuttlecraft."
"What are the risks involved?"
"Worst case is they disable the warp engines on the shuttle. If I stay
close to Voyager, you can pick me up again."
"Sounds reasonable. How long is it likely to take?"
B'Elanna had been trying to figure out how to get round the need to
strip down the shuttle's engines for every new batch of crystals.
She'd finally rigged up an autochanger, which just about fit into a
specially bulged engine casing.
"Between two and two-and-a-half hours to test the whole shipment."
"Go ahead, then, B'Elanna. Chakotay can come with you as pilot."
"Aye, Captain." Was that disappointment in B'Elanna's voice?
Janeway suspected she'd hoped for some time alone with Paris. But Tom
was needed here on Voyager in case they had to catch up with the
shuttle in a hurry, even though he was about to go off shift.
Janeway turned to Chakotay. "Two and a half hours of warp engine
tests. Try not to have too much fun."
He smiled back. "I'll try not to crash this one, either."
As he left, he passed Ensign Baytart, on his way to relieve Tom at
the conn. Paris briefed him quickly on helm status, stood up, yawned,
and said, "Permission to leave the bridge, Captain."
"Permission granted. You look like you could use some sleep, Tom."
"Yes, Ma'am," he smiled.
--------
"Computer, lighting to 20 per cent," announced Tom as the door closed.
He walked over to the wash unit and splashed some warm water on his
face. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that
something was wrong; but what? Then, looking round the room, he saw a
phaser on the table, set to heavy stun. What was that doing there? He
was sure he hadn't left it.
"Tom," croaked a quiet voice from behind him.
He spun round. "Tuvok?" He'd never heard the Vulcan address him by
his forename before. This sounded ominous.
He was crouched in the corner behind the bed, head bowed, eyes
swivelled upwards in their sockets, hands pressed together before him
in an attitude of prayer.
"There has been an... unforeseen circumstance."
Tom could see that quite clearly. He'd expected a few more days to
prepare, both for him and B'Elanna. B'Elanna! He realised with a shock
that she was off the ship, wouldn't be back for two hours. Tuvok
appeared to him - not that he was any kind of expert - to be in full
blown Pon Farr, for whatever reason. This was going to take some
serious stalling.
"What's the problem, Tuvok?" Keep him talking, thought Tom. Try to buy
time any way I can.
"Lieutenant Torres... brushed past me... in a state of anger. The
contact... appears to have... precipitated... the onset of... Pon
Farr." Tuvok spoke in short bursts, between deep breaths. "I cannot...
maintain control... much longer. This matter," his voice started to
rise, "must be resolved... now!"
Tom's mind raced as he considered the options. Clearly Tuvok was too
far gone for meditation to be any use now. Fighting didn't seem to be
too promising an option either. He didn't feel enthusiastic about the
third option - he'd never had a sexual encounter of any sort with
another man, although he'd had some rather forceful offers in the
Auckland penal colony - but he felt he could maybe reconcile himself
to it if it meant saving the life of a friend.
His shoulders sagged as he made his decision. "Okay, Tuvok. What do we
have to do?"
Tuvok stood, and advanced towards him. "I must... perform a mind
meld... to initiate the mating bond." He reached out his hands to
contact either side of Tom's head.
The mating bond! Tom had somehow forgotten the emotional implications
of Pon Farr. He thought of his feelings for B'Elanna, and of the older
man's bond with T'Pel; from their meld, he remembered how Tuvok's love
for his wife was the wellspring of his own strength and serenity.
"No! I can't do this, Tuvok!" He pushed the Vulcan's hands apart,
ducked beneath his arm and stepped back into the centre of the room.
"I can't do it to B'Elanna, and I can't do it to T'Pel." He knew that
this left him only one other option, but he was ready to do what he
must.
Tuvok's head dropped again, and his hands were up before him again.
"You must... help me, or incapacitate me. My control... is failing."
Tom realised suddenly why the phaser was there. Tuvok was offering
him a safe way out. But he suspected that if he used the phaser, the
Vulcan wouldn't recover.
"Can I call the shuttle, get B'Elanna back?"
"I... cannot... wait. I must... bond with you now... or fight."
"Then fight *me*, Tuvok," Tom yelled, "fight *me*!"
He barely had time to balance himself in a fighting crouch before
Tuvok cried, "Klee-fah!" Then the Vulcan was rushing at him, and there
were no more decisions to be made.
--------
The shuttlecraft gently lifted away from the shuttle bay as B'Elanna
made some last-minute adjustments to the autochange controller. As
she looked back up from the panel, Chakotay looked across at her.
"Anywhere in particular you'd like to go, B'Elanna?"
B'Elanna ignored the joking tone in his voice, and made an effort to
stick to strict Starfleet protocol. "Um, respectfully submit you take
us to one thousand kilometres from the USS Voyager, Commander."
Chakotay smiled. "Since it's just the two of us, I think we could use
Maquis protocols, don't you?"
"Okay, Chakotay," she snapped, "Get this goddamned rust-bucket out of
here, and *try* not to blow my engines up this time!"
Chakotay looked round in shock, not realising that she was quite this
angry about the Delomans' trick. Then her face slipped, and he
realised the joke was on him.
"Good to see you laughing again, B'Elanna," he smiled. "I guess I was
wrong. I thought you were a little on edge about this flight."
"No, it wasn't that." Chakotay didn't respond, and B'Elanna realised
that an awkward silence was developing. Clearly, he could tell she was
preoccupied about something. "Look, there is something, it's nothing
to do with dilithium crystals, it's no big thing, I can handle it, and
I *definitely* don't need a vision quest, okay?" They both smiled at
this, and she relaxed a little as she continued, "I'd rather not talk
about it. But if anything goes wrong, could you just trust me and not
ask too many questions?"
"I'd like it a little more if I had the faintest idea what you're
talking about. But don't worry, I can be discreet." He frowned as a
thought struck him. "Is there a problem between you and Tom?"
She laughed. "Not as far as I know. Look, just trust me, it's okay."
Chakotay pointed to the navigation console. "We're in position. Let's
try out the first set of crystals."
--------
Tom was tiring fast. Initially, Tuvok had simply lunged at him, and he
had simply kept out of the way; the Vulcan was clearly fighting with
his emotions, while Tom was still able to use his brain. After a few
passes, though, Tuvok had somehow spun round and caught the side of
Tom's head with a backhand swipe, momentarily knocking him off balance.
But there had been more to it than that.
As Tuvok's hand had touched Tom's head, Tom had felt his self-control
weaken, and anger start to take over. In contrast, Tuvok's movements
had become more deliberate and controlled. Clearly, every contact was
reinforcing their mental link. Tom also felt a more uncomfortable
feeling starting to take him over; he was starting to feel the Vulcan
mating lust, and was finding it difficult to maintain the resolve to
keep fighting.
The effect faded gradually, but every blow Tuvok landed had the same
double effect, and as the Vulcan grew calmer he started to use his
superior strength more effectively. Tom was forced to change his
tactics, realising that blows on Tuvok's skin would do him more harm
than good. Instead of dodging, he now stood his ground and started to
use the kickboxing techniques he had learned in the back streets of
Marseilles, in what seemed like a different life.
The sole of a Starfleet boot appeared to be good enough protection
against touch telepathy, and for a few minutes Tom held his own, even
landing a kick to Tuvok's solar plexus that should have left him
gasping for breath. But even as Tuvok's face screwed up in pain, he
managed to grab Tom's foot and twist. Tom tried to somersault with the
move, but mis-timed it and fell heavily to the floor. In an instant
Tuvok was on top of him, and his hands were moving to Tom's face.
Unable to move, all Tom could do was hold Tuvok's arms, protecting
himself from contact by gripping his tunic sleeves, and try to keep
him from initiating a full meld.
He was losing, he knew. Tuvok was stronger, and even through the
fabric of his uniform, there was enough contact for his desire and
lack of control to overwhelm Tom. But as Tuvok's hands closed in on
him, in a flash of insight, Tom realised that he was not fighting
Tuvok off, but fighting for B'Elanna's love. Thinking of B'Elanna -
not, he prayed, for the last time - and using the power of the lust
within him, he was able to find a little more strength; and it was
just enough.
But for how long?
--------
"They've vaporised." B'Elanna's exclamation bore an overtone of
surprise.
Chakotay wasn't exactly surprised. He'd engaged the warp drive, and
the shuttle had stopped dead. His panel showed the warp engines as
offline due to mechanical breakdown.
"Pretty much what we expected. Shall we try the next set?"
"No, Chakotay, they've *all* vaporised. Every... damned... one. Those
Pe'taQs must have rigged them all to go at once." She sat back in her
seat, arms folded. "We might as well get back to Voyager."
She was quiet, lost in thought, as Chakotay flew the shuttle back to
Voyager. He tried not to intrude, but it seemed an age before they
were back in the shuttle bay and walking down the rear ramp.
"Well, Lieutenant, I'd ask for a report but I think I know what it
would say," said Chakotay. "I won't ask you to extend your shift for
it. You might as well get some time off."
"Thanks, Chakotay," B'Elanna replied. "I think I'll see what Tom's up
to. Computer, locate Lieutenant Paris."
"Lieutenant Paris is in his quarters."
"Is anyone with him?"
"Commander Tuvok is at the same location."
B'Elanna's eyes widened. "I hope they haven't... He said he wouldn't
need to... Damn! Chakotay, I have to go."
He looked after her in surprise as she sprinted out of the shuttle
bay, then said, to empty air, "Dismissed, Lieutenant."
--------
B'Elanna burst into the cabin, to see the scene she had feared. Tom and
Tuvok were struggling in the centre of the floor, and she could see
Tuvok attempting to make contact with Tom's face to initiate a mind
meld. Screaming out a wordless cry of rage, she dragged the Vulcan to
his feet and delivered a vicious backhand blow to his jaw that sent him
crashing against the far bulkhead.
Tom crawled over to the wall by the door, away from the action, and
propped himself up. He could see that Tuvok, weakened by meditation
and by his own efforts, had very little chance against a fresh, angry
B'Elanna, but he wondered whether she was experiencing the same effects
as he had every time she touched the Vulcan. Then again, he realised,
it wouldn't be so much of a problem for her. B'Elanna wasn't a
scientific fighter; she was overwhelming Tuvok with simple strength
and aggression.
Tuvok struggled back to his feet just in time for B'Elanna to lash out
with a foot and catch his right kneecap. Staying on his feet, somehow,
he threw a punch at her face. She blocked it easily, stepped inside
his guard and volleyed blows to his head and body. Trapped against
the wall, he was powerless to resist or escape, until finally he
collapsed, bruised, bleeding and senseless, into his former hiding
place beside the bed.
B'Elanna turned to Tom.
"I'll be okay," he croaked. "See to Tuvok first."
"Medical emergency. Two to beam to sickbay." And he was alone.
--------
The EMH bustled in with a medical tricorder as Tuvok materialised
on the biobed. "Commander Tuvok has multiple bruises, lacerations, a
fractured jaw, a hairline fracture of the right radius and a fractured
right kneecap. Would it be too much to ask what happened?"
"Yes," snapped Torres. "Just treat him. I'll explain later."
"I'm also reading a massive chemical imbalance."
Torres tapped at a computer keyboard. "And I'm reading your
doctor/patient confidentiality subroutines."
"Point taken," replied the E.M.H. with a sour look. "I can treat the
injuries, but I may not be able to do anything about the chemical
imbalance."
"That will not be necessary, Doctor," said a quiet voice from the bed.
"Lieutenant Torres, you must return to complete the Koon-ut-
Kal-if-fee."
"But I thought we had... oh," replied B'Elanna, not knowing whether to
feel embarrassed, angry or just to give in to the way she really felt.
It seemed that Tuvok was requesting the third option. "Computer,
transport one to Lieutenant Paris' quarters."
--------
Tom had found his medkit and scanned himself; it seemed that he had no
serious injuries, so he set to work with a dermal regenerator. He was
about half done when B'Elanna materialised.
"Here, let me," she said softly, taking it from him. She helped him to
the bed, gently helped him undress, and finished healing his wounds,
then laid the regenerator on the bedside table.
"Now," she continued, her voice shaking slightly as she unfastened her
uniform jacket, "we have a Vulcan mating ritual to conclude."
"Engage privacy lock, authorisation Paris nine delta," Tom managed to
say before her mouth bore down on his, and both gave way to the
feelings Tuvok had aroused in them.
From his bed in sickbay, Tuvok maintained the link forged in the
fights with Tom and B'Elanna, gently touching their minds as their
bodies locked together in passion, without intruding or interfering.
As they slaked their desire for each other, so his own need
diminished; and by the time they both, exhausted, drifted into sleep,
his chemistry was balanced and his emotional control restored.
--------
A new day, and a new shift on the bridge. Many of the tensions of the
past few days, Janeway noted with relief, seemed to have vanished. Tom
and Tuvok had stepped out of the turbolift together, and while she
would never know what had passed between them just beforehand - in
fact, she suspected she didn't want to know - the look that passed
between them suggested that something had been resolved. In fact, when
Tom smiled at Tuvok, Tuvok had very nearly smiled back.
There had been another exchanged look she'd noted. B'Elanna had
breezed in with the morning's engineering work assignments, and had
met a questioning look from Chakotay with a reassuring smile, and a
sotto voce comment that she hadn't quite caught - it didn't seem in
keeping with a Captain's dignity to listen too hard - but that seemed
to answer an unspoken question from her first officer. Again, she'd
probably never know what that was all about, but B'Elanna seemed
remarkably relaxed about the previous day's debacle with the dilithium
crystals.
And then, of course, there was the look that had passed between Tom
and B'Elanna just before she left. She knew exactly what that meant;
so no problems there either.
"Steady as she goes, Mr. Paris." It looked like this would be a quiet
day.
--------
Once again, Tuvok was far beyond the physical form of his inert body
and the thin flame of the meditation lamp. This time, though, the
sun's heat was a pleasant warmth, and the sands were beginning to
relax into the gentle cool of a Vulcan evening. And while the house
before him was still empty, he seemed to hear, at the threshold of
perception, the sound of quiet voices engaged in rational debate. He
had not expected this peace, and the cloth in his hand somehow seemed
to be an element of discord in such tranquillity.
He had a task to perform, though, and he was determined to see it
through. He strode through the empty rooms to the central hearth, and
looked up at the picture above it, to see...
T'Pel.
Confused, he lifted the picture forward, and turned it around, ready
to clean the reverse side.
There was no reverse side. As he turned it, the same image of T'Pel
was visible on both sides.
He did not rejoice. Vulcans do not. But he sank gently to the floor,
where he sat peacefully, his eyes gently closed, his house in order
about him. His induced trance would continue for some minutes yet; so
he relaxed, rested, and awaited his return to the more physical, and
in many ways simpler, aspect of his journey home.
THE END
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