Despite his obvious hunger, Tuvok had offered his portion to Akaar, but Akaar would have none of it. He finally had to order Tuvok to eat before the often-maddening Vulcan would ingest any sustenance other than sips of water.
Now, with some small measure of food and fluid in his large frame, Akaar felt fatigue gripping him. “I will try to sleep until nightfall,” he said, gesturing toward his shelter.
“Sir, you must be aware that this planetoid is tidally locked to the second planet in the system. Therefore there is no night on this—” Tuvok stopped, apparently realizing from Akaar’s weary grin that the captain was engaging in a small jest.
“I will be in my own tent, meditating,” Tuvok said finally.
Akaar watched his friend turn away, and then entered the relative cool of the tent—relative in that it wasn’t plus-sixty-five degrees Celsius as it was under the outside sun.
Perhaps during our time here, my old friend will finally learn the value of humor , he thought as he lay down on the remnants of upholstery they had salvaged from one of the shuttle chairs that hadn’t been too badly burned.
It seemed an impossible task. But so, too, had escaping from the plunging shuttle.
DAY 6—STARDATE 26798.9 (19 OCTOBER 2349)
In the state ofeiihu, experienced only by Vulcans during deep meditation, Tuvok didn’t exactly dream of his family and his past, though he imagined that the visions he saw and interacted with were probably not unlike the dreams experienced by other species. It was here that he best remembered the flawless beauty of T’Pel, his wife of forty-five years. He cherished the memory of her dancing in the gracefulkorl’na that her mother had made for her, and that she had worn for him when they both had experienced their first throes ofPon farr.
He remembered, too, his five-year-old daughter Asil and his three older sons, Sek, Varik, and Eliath. He recalled the somber way each of them had stared at him as he taught them the fundamental principles of Vulcancthia that he had learned so painstakingly throughout his life. Unlike fathers of other Vulcan children, however, he had access to knowledge that came from far past the mountains of L-Langon, or even the ancient, bloodstone-covered halls of ShiKahr. He had experienced the galaxy beyond for nine years, first as a cadet at Starfleet Academy, then as a junior science officer aboard theU.S.S. Excelsior .
But he had left that ship—and Starfleet—dissatisfied with the perplexingly emotional manner in which Captain Sulu and the other humans he encountered had made their decisions.
Still, his five years aboardExcelsior had given him a wealth of stories and wonders to share with his children. And it had also been enough to bring him two close friends—friends with whom he had become at least as intimate as any he had ever acquired back home on Vulcan—in the deposed Capellan teer Leonard James Akaar and the Halkan outcast, Lojur. After Tuvok had resigned his Starfleet commission in 2298, Lojur had come to Vulcan with him in the hopes of learning to control his decidedly un-Halkan propensity for violence; restless and frustrated after half a Vulcan year, the Halkan had returned to Starfleet to seek his answers.
The absence of constant interaction with either of his outworld friends, to Tuvok’s great surprise, gave him the greatest sense of loss he had ever experienced.
Tuvok had not been able to explain to his wife and children why he had chosen to return to Starfleet earlier this year; he wasn’t even certain he could explain it to himself. Perhaps it had been his nigh-mystical desert encounter with thea’kweth —the Underlier, or repository of all knowledge, from Vulcan’s most ancient myths—or perhaps it was simply a gradual accumulation of what humans sometimes called “wanderlust.” Whatever the reason, it almost seemed that a part of his verykatra had gone missing while he had been home on Vulcan, and that it only rejoined him when he journeyed into space.
He had been reinstated to Starfleet as an ensign, and was given minor assignments, until an old friend asked for Tuvok to transfer to his ship; Akaar was now the first officer of theU.S.S. Wyoming , and had urged his captain to take on Tuvok as a member of his crew.
While the posting seemed a blessing at first, Tuvok soon grew to disapprove of Commander Akaar’s superior officer, the abrasive and confrontational Captain Karl Broadnax. At least Captain Sulu had allowed Tuvok to speak his mind when he found particular actions or commands to be illogical; Broadnax had practically cashiered him back out of Starfleet the first time that Tuvok had dared question one of his decisions.
Thus it was that Tuvok was “loaned” for a brief time to theU.S.S. Stargazer , under the command of Captain Jean-Luc Picard. He might have asked to return to that ship, had not Broadnax made a particularly egregious error in judgment and allowed his temper to get the better of him in a ramshackle bar on Farius Prime. Even though complete Starfleet and civilian investigations were undertaken, no one had ever determined precisely which local underworld denizen—or which gang of lowlifes, judging from the condition of the remains—had ended the captain’s contentious existence.
After Akaar was promoted to captain of theWyoming , he had requested that Tuvok remain aboard as his science officer. Although Tuvok knew that Akaar tried not to show any overt favoritism to his old friend—which Tuvok assumed explained why Akaar had not promoted him beyond the rank of ensign—Tuvok still felt little camaraderie with his other crewmates. Rather than dwell on their illogical and delusional jealousies, he pushed himself harder and focused his energies more than ever before on his work. He even began an exhaustive study of battle tactics and security protocols on the side.
But most of the tactical skills he had learned in the short time since coming back aboard theWyoming were useless here, on Planetoid 437. There was nothing to defend against, other than the heat, the thirst, and the hunger. There were no animals or sentient aliens or anything living other than the imposing trees that were spiked into the cracked and otherwise barren ground.
A hot breeze pushed through the shelter, momentarily stirring Tuvok from his meditative trance and his memories. Rather than let it bring him completely out of his contemplative state, he incorporated the feeling into his mind, matching it to recollections of his second trip into the desert as a child, when he had run away from home after his petsehlat , Wari, had been killed. Inconsolable when his parents told him that Wari did not have akatra , he had embarked on the ritual oftal’oth , making his way over the desiccated wasteland of Vulcan’s Forge, and across the jagged mountains that marked its eastern boundary.
The winds that pushed against him during that trip were just as broiling and powerful as those here now. The difference was that then he’d had a mission to purge himself of emotion, to feel nothing except dispassionate, irrefutable logic. He had returned after four months away from home, having realized that goal, if only temporarily.
Now, however, he had no objective save basic survival. And of somehow keeping his captain—his friend—alive as well.