The Old Hundredth

 

a Vulcan story by

vanhunks

 

warning: very Tuvok-y pedantic language usage

 

Summary: Tuvok goes for a walk.

Rating:        G

Disclaimer:  Paramount is chief.

Tuvok went for a walk. He started out just after his evening meal and before he would return to the seclusion of his quarters, slip into his meditation robe and shut himself off from the world.  It was not unusual for Tuvok to use whatever convenient place to conduct his intercession, and he might well have chosen his corner in the mess hall, but recalling how Tom Paris once rudely interrupted this important spiritual transcendence, Tuvok's quarters was always the most appropriate place for his quiet time.

 

Being an man of unobtrusive exits and entrances, the manner in which he would stride across the mess hall towards the doors had become his own particular eccentricity. On occasion he had been accused of making an entrance, or making certain that his exit was noticed. It was never Tuvok's intention, since he did not have any hidden agendas, and doing anything by design was not in his disposition as a composed man whose philosophy of living was rooted entirely in logic. Thus, when Tuvok walked, he expected nothing more than the required and expected show of cordiality and respect decreed by his rank as Chief of Security on the USS Voyager, intrepid vessel of the Delta Quadrant.

 

Not many noticed his departure from the mess hall. It suited the Vulcan although he would be the first to declare that whether they did or not, was as Seven of Nine would say, irrelevant.  Those who noticed, however, did so with a perfunctory glance at the Vulcan who chose to sit in the same place every day. That spot being the far corner of the room where he could blend into the bulkhead and remain unseen for the duration of his meal. He was in that respect a creature of habit, and his special spot was never usurped by any of the crew, not even the Captain who could by virtue of her rank if she chose, usurp his spot. Consequently, when any member of the crew entered the mess hall at the end of alpha shift to risk the culinary delights of the mess hall sergeant,  that member expected Tuvok to be ensconced in his private preserve - a most familiar sight and an institution on Voyager.

 

To them it was some measure of comfort seeing him there, an assurance that there must be some normalcy on the vessel Voyager. His presence told them that it had been another ordinary day on the ship in which they warded off  the evil forces of the day, wiped the Borg baby's nose, and saw to it that Voyager operated at peak efficiency. That was enough for them, for more than that they were not willing to invest in the Vulcan as his impassivity and directness of responses which he disdainfully - at least, that was how it appeared to them - deemed to be cold logic, tended to grate on them.

 

So,  when Tuvok rose from his seat, that movement alone was enough for the others to glance up from their own preoccupations - some were bravely washing down their meals with Neelix's special Rynax Coffee Blend - and consider his 'sudden' movement distracting in a distracted sort of way.

 

Ensign Baedeker, who knew every inch of the ship, and whom most crewmembers consulted when they wanted to know the whereabouts of the Rat of Jefferies Tube 17, or which crewman's quarters were to be searched for contraband cookies, or who hosted a secret sleep-in, or where to find a certain First Officer's hidden cache of cider - the Captain was not the only one privy to that knowledge, although it must be said that Baedeker was tight-lipped about the source of that particular bit of information -  looked up from studying his PADD and grimaced in the very instant Tuvok paused at his table. It was perhaps a good thing that his expression was a reaction to the tar level of his coffee, than feeling his neck hair bristle when he looked at the Security Chief. Regaled by his friends as The Elephant, Baedeker hastily muttered an apology. Tuvok raised an eyebrow before he moved on.

 

"Ouch! what did you do that for?" Elephant Man muttered as he looked  at his companion. 

 

"Come on, Karl, you know he was waiting for something," Crewman Parkar whispered.

 

"Like what? He didn't want anything."

 

 "Heck, he wanted something, that's for sure."

 

"Yeah, like I know what he wanted."

 

"You're not The Elephant for nothing, Baedeker," his friend sneered.

 

"You know, I could never understand why you all assume I should - "

 

He cursed when Nose E. Parkar kicked him again. Baedeker couldn't comprehend Tuvok's reaction as he did, after all, apologise to the Vulcan for his mild lapse in manners. He rubbed his ankle and frowned furiously as he tried to remember something, a stray wisp of knowledge that would have induced the Vulcan of Voyager to pause at his table. It was something Tuvok had never done in seven years on the intrepid ship. Therefore his puzzlement increased at his inability to recall something that might have been important to Tuvok.

 

"You could have told him about the missing orchid, Karl."

 

Baedeker's eyes lit up. He curled his lips derisively.

 

"Oh, you mean that?"

 

"Yeah, that. Is there more?" There was a decidedly expectant look on Parkar's face.

 

"No one knows who removed the orchid from the Airponics Bay, Parkar."

 

"So you admit that *someone* took Tuvok's rare Vulcanus kathariniae."

 

Nose E. Parkar's statement clearly suggested that his friend knew just who the silent thief was who could lift a rare orchid, one Tuvok had spent months cultivating. It was his turn to grimace as he sipped the last mouthful of coffee…

 

"It was there yesterday, it was there this morning early, it was there this afternoon…"

 

"You holding out on me, Karl Baedeker?"

 

The ensign gave his companion an enigmatic smile, looked where Tuvok passed the Paris Combo. He imagined the Security Officer slowed down a tad as he passed that table. Then Baedeker frowned again, an action which caused Crewman Parkar to think that Elephant Man definitely knew something was afoot. The crewman sighed as he gave up, looked at the bottom of his mug and studied the dregs of Neelix's Rynax  Special Coffee Blend.

 

Tuvok, being aware that his presence was merely tolerated although they accorded him the necessary respect and greeting protocol as befitting a senior officer and Chief of Security, proceeded to move past the other crew. He noted B'Elanna and Tom Paris in earnest conversation, and overheard words like "it's not good for the baby", "coffee-mongering infant", "she can hear you, Tom", "hover-stroller", all of which kept the coming infant as hyper-active as the expectant mother, according to the expectant father.

 

Naomi Wildman looked at Icheb with what humans called "her heart in her eyes", and acknowledged Tuvok in a distracted manner, never taking her eyes of the young Recycled Borg Teen. The object of Naomi's adoration was studying her equally intently, then to her dismay Icheb reached forward and wiped a crumb from her cheek.

 

Chakotay was dining alone, and the first officer waved at Tuvok as the Vulcan passed him. Tuvok nodded to Chakotay; the desire to stop and ask the First Officer why the Captain had not been present in the mess hall for her evening meal, was quickly suppressed as he surmised that she must still be on the bridge. He could easily couch his inquiry in the guise of mere interest to know the Captain's reasons for 'discussions on forthcoming security measures' in the airponics bay and the other cargo bays but the First Officer was astute. He would know that Tuvok's query would be a smokescreen, as Tom Paris would say.

 

From the safety of his haven Tuvok could always watch Captain Janeway without being labelled inquisitive or intrusive or staring with - as Naomi was looking at Icheb - his heart in his eyes. It would have been very un-Vulcan-like for a Vulcan to walk around looking like Naomi looked at Icheb with such childish devotion, or the way B'Elanna looked at her husband, or Seven of Nine, in spite of the irrelevance with which she viewed any emotional attachment, looked at Chakotay.

 

Tuvok found it curious that the Captain was not at her table tonight. Then he could have afforded himself again the very agreeable satisfaction of appraising her beauty without giving himself away. He doubted whether he would ever give himself away or be Found Out. Emotion, as Seven of Nine once said to him, is the irritation  that  bedevil humans. They become irrational, unstable, highly charged over minor issues, cannot at any time reach consensus, and she would rather be Borg in that respect, than lose control quite like so many humans on Voyager do.

 

Tuvok cross-referenced and indexed and recorded the Captain's presence in the mess hall for evening meals over a period of seven years and logically established that she would, within a range of 5 - 5.5 minutes stand at the entrance to the mess hall, pause for two seconds after confirming that her dinner companion and first officer was already seated before she moved briskly to the 'Captain's Table". There was no private dining room for the Captain since the day Neelix appropriated that room without Captain Janeway's prior knowledge and dispensation, something she reluctantly agreed to as the need for provisions in order to save energy had very soon become a necessity.

 

As soon as Captain Janeway had seated herself opposite Chakotay, she would lift her head and her gaze would fix on the man in the corner. Tuvok would acknowledge her greeting and record (again) in his logical equation of indexes and references that the Captain had given him a look that could be construed as 'too long', 'lingering', 'intently', 'speculatively'. He allowed himself to ponder on the possibility that the Captain could have feelings more than what was deemed appropriate within the safe parameters of the designation: friendship. Captain Janeway would leave forty  minutes later for deck one where she ensconced herself in her ready room and 'closed herself' off from the world.

 

In very odd moments which he could never completely define, and which made him curious as to why it happened, Tuvok experienced a warm feeling in his chest when the Captain looked at him. Tuvok found that such looks were not displeasing to him. Not at all. In recent months, and if he could give an accurate estimate of when exactly these unexplained fluttering caused his heart to jump, as it were, it was the day the Captain presented him with a cake and a single candle. From that day he had been 'looking forward' to more such notices from the Captain. He was not blind and deaf and knew that of late she had been more amenable to his attentions, such as they were. Therefore, when the Captain did not grace her table this evening, that knowledge established itself in his mind that a factor in his equations was missing, and that it needed to be part of his referencing in order to afford him the idea and "feeling", if he had to use such a word, of "completion".  The warm feeling would settle in him, a not altogether unwanted thing and if he had to be honest, something that agreed with him.

 

In short, Tuvok missed Captain Janeway.

 

It was a chasm.  The crew appeared oblivious to the fact and they could not comprehend why it mattered today. These things should not matter to him. In seven years on this vessel with her, and the more than twenty years he had regarded her as friend, it never mattered. His feelings such as they were present in him but never given expression as befit a dispassionate Vulcan who had taken lessons as a young man to suppress all emotion, were never brought into consideration… He may have them, but the extent to which he exercised his control it was easy for the others to imagine that he could never be angry, sad, miss anyone, or even feel love.

 

So, he had to do something about the matter. Things could not continue as they were presently happening. Perhaps if he went to the Captain and "opened his heart" to her, it would help to alleviate that feeling that he experienced of being rebuffed, unwanted, unremarkable, unremembered. He would present her with his most revered offering and going for a walk to the -

 

"You're on your way to the Airponics Bay, Mr Vulcan?"

 

Neelix. And how did he know?

 

For the first time the Chief of Security's brow creased. It was the only sign and perhaps outward expression of being pained. If he were human he would have gone mad at his first meeting with Neelix, second only to going completely insane by the second meeting, when the Talaxian was enjoying the miracle cure of The Bath with its requisite phenomenon of those soaking in the tub singing their enjoyment and gratitude instead of just scrubbing down and getting the job done.

 

Neelix was not human…

 

Neelix was a pain.

 

Neelix…

 

"Yes, Mr Neelix, I'm on my way there - "

 

"Mr Vulcan, you haven't tasted my Vulcan Coffee Mocha, Delta Quadrant style, and there you go, off so soon?"

 

"Your coffee, Mr Neelix, is best when not taken."

 

"But - but…"

 

Neelix moved closer to Tuvok, near enough that he could touch the Vulcan's arm. Tuvok stiffened, a movement so subtle that Neelix hardly noticed.

 

"I am merely making my rounds of the ship, Neelix, in my capacity as Security Officer. I must of necessity go to the hydroponics bay. I believe there is no reason I should not go there…"

 

"Perhaps, Mr Vulcan, it would not be necessary after all. Might I suggest you visit the hold on deck fifteen, then Jefferies Tube 29. I hear there's been a - "

 

"Mr Neelix, the Airponics Bay will do first."

 

"Yes, er, well, then, good night, Mr Vulcan," Neelix bumbled his way through his reply.

 

Tuvok moved swiftly through the mess hall doors. It was fortuitous perhaps that he did not see the way Ensign Baedeker and Crewman Parkar breathed a sigh of relief, or the way Neelix rolled his yellow cat-like eyes to the proverbial heavens, or the way Chakotay smiled as Tom Paris gave him a well-meaning look. A pall of expectant quietness fell over the occupants of the mess hall. Even Naomi looked up from her preoccupied stare at Icheb's face and Vorik arched a brow quite similar to the high lift Tuvok himself indulged in when he was as humans would express it, "amused". At least, that was the way humans interpreted that facial expression. In Captain Janeway that expression was always construed as either indulgent humouring of a minor officer, or disbelief.

 

"Finally, the man is gone. And I'd like to be a fly on the bulkhead of the hydroponics bay," Tom said to B'Elanna. The engineer gave a mild snort.

 

"You are a fly on the wall, Paris."

 

"I'd like to see his expression. He seemed so…expectant here, don't you think?"

 

"As if he were anticipating something? Tuvok? A Vulcan?"

 

"B'Elanna, don't ever underestimate the Vulcan…"

 

"How could I forget?"

 

"We fell in love then…"

 

"Yeah, right, Helm Boy. You've seen me in all my moods."

 

"You know, B'Elanna," Tom said reflectively, "I haven't seen the Captain, and I'm damned certain Tuvok was waiting for her…"

 

"Or something?"  

 

"Or something…"

 

Tom winked. B'Elanna followed his gaze to where Chakotay was seated. She gave a contented sigh. This was the Tom she married. One who could still indulge in playful naughtiness. Tom and Chakotay were up to something, and she was certain that Karl Baedeker was in on whatever they had planned. When Tom looked at B'Elanna again, she smiled and said softly:

 

"He's in love with her."

 

"No way could anyone  notice, B'Elanna."

 

"Haven't you ever noticed how he keeps staring at her when she sits with Chakotay at their table?"

 

"Well, yeah…"

 

Thus the conversation, conducted in surprisingly harmonious accord by the Paris Combo.

 

*

 

Lieutenant-Commander Tuvok walked towards the first of the turbolifts that would take him to the hydroponics bay. There was an odd emptiness in him, one he found unable to concretise as an emotion, or simply to tell why it was that he "felt" the betrayal of the crewmembers in the mess hall, and most particularly Captain Janeway, his friend for more than twenty years, so keenly. He corrected his own lapse of quantifying the length of time he had known the Captain and determined it to be twenty point nine years. The emptiness, or as humans would say, the feeling of being "let down" was experienced very keenly. He dismissed in a somewhat arrogant if not altogether and downright callous manner  the crewmembers as not important enough that they should matter, but the Captain mattered. He had a heart, he was ready to admit, one that beat odd beats whenever she looked at him with that look, and a response he has been unable in most particularly the last year, to prevent from experiencing.

 

If he didn't know with absolute conviction and with unassailable evidence unseen in his DNA and seen in his outward appearance that he was Vulcan, he would have said he was human with its concomitant flaws. He was bonded, he had children, even grandchildren, but today, he was ready to accede that the heart was an organ that betrayed one when one least expected it, regardless of all the parameters set around it to prevent such a thing from happening. There were moral grounds for not straying, yet the heart walked a path of its own. At least, his heart did. He had always known that being Vulcan alone was enough to protect him from the betraying influences of the heart. Now that same organ did not belong to him anymore, and it assumed a life of its own. What was he then? Vulcan? Man?

 

He was a man.

 

The Captain mattered in matters of the heart. She was his friend, and very soon, as soon as he could get to the hydroponics bay, he'd get his "Vulcanus kathariniae",  rare and new orchid cultivar and present it to the Captain. Then she would realise that he was in reality presenting himself with a gift. She would remember then.

 

Yes, he would give her his Vulcanus kathariniae.

 

A gift he would give her if he could find it. He stood in the hydroponics bay and looked at the trays and tanks where he expected to see his Vulcanus kathariniae. That spot was empty.

 

It was not necessary to search the hydroponics bay. The orchid could only flourish in the specially prepared tank Noah Lessing and Sam Wildman had helped him set up. That tank was now empty. Tuvok took in a deep breath and recalled the manner in which Ensign Baedeker looked at him, and the off-hand stares of the crew in the mess hall. It struck him now that they must have known something and Neelix…

 

Neelix had wanted to divert him from the hydroponics bay to prevent him from finding out. Tuvok considered for a moment whether the crew thought he would rush back into the mess hall and indulge in a histrionic outrage that his most prized orchid had vanished from its tank. He would not belittle his name and his position by acting out of character.  That dubious distinction he could easily accord Harry Kim, or Tom Paris or Seven of Nine. The Captain would never indulge in such lapses of control, and neither would he. Still today - right now - he wanted his Vulcanus kathariniae and he wanted to give it to Captain Janeway. Tuvok looked around, knowing that it was futile to expect to find it, or to look under the tables and tanks. He heard footsteps behind him but did not look to see who entered.

 

"I'm sorry that the orchid is gone, Mr Tuvok," Noah Lessing said as he entered the hydroponics bay.

 

"You do not know who had taken it?" Tuvok asked as he turned to look at the tall crewman from the Equinox who had shown an interest in the concept of such a facility on board Voyager.

 

"You could say it was the heist of the year."

 

"You are smiling, Crewman."

 

"I wish I knew, Commander. There were no DNA traces - "

 

"Nor, I presume, traces or record of a recent transport?"

 

"No, Sir."

 

"That will be all, Crewman Lessing."

 

Noah Lessing breathed a sigh of relief. Tuvok raised an eyebrow and gave a little shrug of his shoulders. He left the hydroponics bay and to Noah he seemed deep in thought.

 

Noah Lessing wanted to hurry out of the bay to the mess hall and find Marla and Chell and Joe Carey. They'd be interested to know what transpired between him and the Security Chief. He could even tell them that Tuvok appeared to be extremely let down that his precious orchid was gone, although in all fairness, the Vulcan never looked like it. While Noah had a suspicion, he would never actually voice that to anyone, though he suspected that they - most particularly the senior officers - were aware of the identity of the thief.

 

Tuvok approached the turbolift. The Borg Twins rushed past him, and Susan Nicoletti walked slowly, holding the hand of the Borg Baby who managed to stay on her feet and toddled unsteadily along. The twins had barely given him a second glance and Susan  appeared to him harried as the tiny child pulled her along.  Susan nodded her greeting to Tuvok, and hurried along with the Borg Baby who clearly objected to being picked up.

 

The Chief of Security entered the lift and ordered his deck. He had nothing to present to the Captain. He expected nothing, now.  All he could do was to accept that something he cultivated with great care was now gone, and he had to move on with his life. There was no yearning or mourning for something that was gone forever. It was gone, and he accepted that. Why, it was doubtful that the Captain would even commend him on the fine flower he cultivated. There were many more important things for him to do in his capacity as Chief of Security. He would concentrate on  routing out far more insidious insurrections and infractions and bringing the perpetrators to book than looking for an unimportant flower. He would use logic to solve the occasional murder on Voyager, and consign to the brig any crewman, ensign or officer found guilty of  pilfering provisions from the mess hall.

 

After all, what was that flower but a collection of three petals that fanned out with their deep coral centres blending gradually outward towards a lighter shade of peach at its outer edges? What was it that the soft petals trembled gently when he breathed as he took in its scent? What was that rich, velvety texture of its petals that by touching it with reverence he could imagine it was the Captain's cheek? What was the Vulcanus katharinae that he wanted to give it to the Captain on this day of all days?

 

What was it? Nothing.

 

It did not matter. The Vulcanus kathariniae was nothing but a common orchid that would die soon after it was removed from its habitat. He would have a much more fruitful time in his quarters meditating and willed himself not to break his own meditation by allowing thoughts of Captain Janeway and the orchid to intrude too much on him.

 

He will go and purge himself mentally of all thoughts of her and tomorrow when he sat down again in the mess hall to partake of his meal, he would not look up once to ascertain that she was there or that she was looking at him with that look.

 

Yes, tonight's meditation will be a purging of all illicit thoughts, all pondering on passionate possibilities with the Captain of Voyager. He will don his black robe with its deep purple and gold embossments and as soon as the folds fell over his shoulders, he would feel the peace suffuse him. He will light a hundred candles and immerse himself in spiritual transcendence and he will endeavour never to allow the image of her face to cross his heart again.

 

If he were human, he would have said: to hell with the orchid and to hell with Kathryn Janeway.

 

If he were human.

 

The doors to his quarters opened and he stepped inside.

 

His brow lifted.

 

There were a hundred candles burning in his quarters. He did not have to count them. He just knew it.

 

And his robe was hanging.

 

It was draped over the petit form of a woman, and his missing Vulcanus kathariniae was tucked behind her ear.

 

In a thousand possibilities Tuvok computed as to the whereabouts of Captain Janeway, never was her presence in his cabin one of those factors. He also acceded the moment he saw her standing two point three meters from him, that a simple command to the ship's computer would have answered his question and would have obviated all pondering over the Captain's mission to his heart and soul and would in fact have opened up a new set of agreeable thoughts about his inexplicable attachment to the Captain. He could apportion himself a good dose of foolishness that he did not think to locate the Captain in the most obvious of ways. Perhaps it was the very unlikelihood of her presence here, in the context in which he was seeing her, that he missed what was so clear.

 

She did not move from her spot. She held in her hands a cake, very similar to the one she presented to him a year ago. He recalled with astounding clarity that it was on that day she had started looking at him in the way she was looking at him now. He also knew with absolute certainty that his robe was the only garment that graced her elegant form. That thought registered in his mind with great satisfaction. The flower looked like a flame and accentuated the colour of her hair. In the light of a hundred flames, Kathryn Janeway glowed. He closed the gap between them; like the flower burned, her eyes smouldered, her gaze remaining fixed on him. There it was: a soft lifting of the corner of her mouth into a smile. Her lips…

 

Tuvok swallowed.

 

"Captain."

 

"Happy hundredth birthday, Tuvok," she whispered seductively.

 

He could only stare. It mattered that the Captain remembered. It mattered that it meant much to her. The crew… Tuvok allowed another sliver of insight to take command of him. The crew must have known. They had known all along.

 

"Say something, Tuvok…"

 

Did her voice sound like the purring of a cat?

 

He reached to touch the orchid. It was a fleeting touch, yet he felt her tremble, and in one moment that burst upon him like a brilliant flash in which Kathryn smiled at him and her fingers touched his lips lightly. He dropped his hand slowly. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful. He wanted to be un-Vulcan-like and express his feelings in the words of the great poets of Earth. For her he studied their fevered words:

 

"Yourself - your soul - in pity give me all,

Withhold no atom's atom or I die…"

 

He wanted to speak those words and he desired to touch her cheek. He wanted to see into her heart. He wanted to hear the words from T'resa's great poem fly from her lips and drift to him on floating, fragile leaves:

 

"Then break the bonds of friendship's part,

let logic turn to moment's bliss so true;

Oh, touch me with your hands, see how my heart

reveal its fullest, burning love for you; -

 

Tuvok could not find those words. He stared at his Vulcanus kathariniae and she was aflame. Her eyes, her hair, her lips, his robe. He would replicate himself a new robe, for the one she wore lived and breathed on her.  She held the cake on which the hundredth candle burned and he remembered her words of a year ago:

 

"So, how soon when you hit the three digits?"

 

He had stood with his birthday cake then and recalled that he had had little recourse as to how to make appearance of sentiment.  He countered her sentiments with the only words he could utter that could be deemed viable and  plausible… words that in the present context  were meant with his very breath.

 

Tuvok took his gift from Kathryn and blew out the candle.

 

He found his voice.

 

"You are indeed a fire hazard… my Kathryn…"

 

*

 

end.

 

The lines "Yourself - your soul…" from Sonnet 19 by Keats.

 

"Then break the bonds…" from a poem I had written about a year ago for the Kirk/Spock pairing. Perhaps, who knows, I might be tempted to write the companion piece to this story.

 

Here is the full poem:

 

Oh, Vulcan Heart

 

I know not when this feeling came to me,

to steal upon my heart, forever seal

all that I am, my friend, that I can be

for you, this love too painful to reveal;

 

I must your Captain be, and you my friend.

Oh, Vulcan heart, I dare not ask for more!

How can I so presume that to my end

You'll walk with me some distant shore?

 

But hope remains my only guide and stay;

In this my body aches for love's return -

I live and breathe for you, and through each day

my Vulcan love, you see how deep I yearn;

 

Then break the bonds of friendship's part,

let logic turn to moment's bliss so true;

Oh, touch me with your hands, see how my heart

reveal its fullest, burning love for you.

 

 

  ***

 

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