However, she was unconvinced that Tuvok was managing to cope with his actions even in a healthy Vulcan way. She sensed turmoil in his mind, a shame as intense as Orilly’s, and it did not seem to her that his meditative efforts to process it were gaining any ground—at least, not based on the disordered jumble of keetharablocks and kal-tohsticks which she glimpsed over his shoulder when he declined to invite her into his quarters. She did not know Tuvok that well; although she had spent time with many of Voyager’s crew as they adjusted to their return home, Tuvok had remained aloof. But it was clear enough that he was as stubborn as any Vulcan she had ever met. In this case, though, she feared that his stubbornness was being applied to self-recrimination. She needed to find a way to help him redirect that obstinacy in his favor, use it to drive his recovery process rather than hindering it. But for now she couldn’t even get in the door.
Attempting to recruit Tuvok’s wife to help gained her little. “He has not spoken to me about it,” T’Pel told Deanna when they met in the latter’s office. “Indeed, we have spoken of little in recent days. He prefers his solitude.”
“You’re his wife,T’Pel. He can’t shut you out if you don’t let him. And he needs you to be there for him.”
T’Pel gave no outward reaction. “Tuvok has always been self-reliant. We have spent many years apart, and he has done well enough without my presence.”
“Maybe,” Deanna said. “But he asked to be allowed to have you join him on Titan.His acceptance of a post on this vessel was contingent on that request. Doesn’t that suggest that he wants to change that aspect of your relationship?”
The older, chocolate-skinned woman pondered for a moment. “Perhaps. But what he has been subjected to…what we have both been subjected to…it is a distasteful matter. And Tuvok is a proud man. He does not wish to be seen in his…compromised state.” Deanna almost smiled. Tuvok had just been reunited with his wife after a long absence, had invited her to join him in a part of his life she had not shared before. She imagined that even a Vulcan would wish to be appealing to her in those conditions. To be made to appear weak, emotional and unVulcan would have been an embarrassment indeed. But she didn’t want to add to his embarrassment by saying as much to T’Pel.
“Besides,” T’Pel went on, “there is nothing I can offer him. I am not a healer. I know no mental discipline techniques with which my husband is not already familiar; indeed, I know far fewer, for I have not required the mental training of a Starfleet security officer.”
Underneath T’Pel’s words, Deanna sensed an undercurrent of mild frustration, or at least uncertainty. T’Pel not only felt that she had nothing to offer Tuvok; she seemed unsure what she had to offer anyone. Deanna could deduce the reason easily enough. T’Pel had spent most of her adult life raising her children and managing the affairs of her household, and had never studied for any other career. But now all her children were grown, and joining her husband on Titanhad meant leaving her household’s affairs in the hands of her eldest. It had also meant coming into an environment which did not require any of her particular skills. After being so invaluable to her family and household, it must have been quite a step down to feel so superfluous.
It was an issue Deanna would keep in mind for the future. For now, though, she tried to offer something that could at least begin to help both T’Pel and Tuvok. “What you have to offer, T’Pel, is what he brought you here to share with him: your companionship, your support. Tuvok is no doubt fee— experiencinguncertainty about his worth. It would help him for you to simply show him that he has value to you. That you accept him as he is, even when he’s vulnerable. He can take strength from that knowledge.”
“That is not a very Vulcan sentiment, Counselor.”
“Isn’t it? What about the ship’s own motto? ‘Infinite diversity in infinite combinations.’ Surak himself taught that we’re stronger when we join together with others—that the interaction of different beings, different minds, can produce unexpected and valuable synergies. You and Tuvok may both be Vulcans, but you’re still different people, and that in itself gives you something to offer him. You just have to reach out and share it with him.”
T’Pel raised a brow. “That is an unconventional interpretation of Surak. However, I find it logical. I shall endeavor to follow your advice.”
“Thank you, T’Pel.” At least it’s a start,Deanna thought. But she expected it would take more than that to help Tuvok deal with his guilt. Tuvok, Orilly, Will…self-flagellation is becoming entirely too common a pastime around here.
“Bridge to Captain Riker.”
As a Starfleet officer, Will Riker was trained to wake from a sound sleep at a moment’s notice. Over twenty years of experience had enabled him to hone the skill. Unfortunately, neither training nor experience could make him enjoy it. The late-night call from Hachesa on the bridge meant he’d have to give up having Deanna comfortably spooned within his arms. It meant he’d have to get up and endure some strong replicator coffee to shock himself into a ready state. It meant he’d pay for the sleep deprivation at a later time.
Most of all, it meant there was trouble. “Riker here,” he said reluctantly, feeling Deanna stir against him. “Go ahead.”
“We having intruders on the bridge, sir. Captain Qui’hibra and two others have just beam aboard without warning. He is demand to speak with you at oncely, sir.”
Riker groaned softly, as much at the gamma shift commander’s mangled syntax as his unwelcome news. (“It wouldn’t be so bad,” Deanna had said to him one night, “if only there were some consistent patternto it.” If Hachesa’s grammatical idiosyncrasies corresponded to any rules of Kobliad syntax, the rest of the crew had yet to figure out what they were.) Sitting up, he put some steel in his tone. This was his ship, and it was time to remind Qui’hibra of that. “Raise the shields. Have security escort our gueststo the observation lounge. I’ll meet—”
Qui’hibra’s voice overrode him. “I will not play games, Riker. There is no time. What I have brought you to see is beginning now. I have come to your ship because you claim your long-range sensors are superior to ours. I had hoped to be closer before it began, but if we are doomed only to watch, we must see as clearly as we can. And you will come in haste, Riker, for the onset is mere moments away. Either agree now or my clan will batter down your shields and have you teleported to this bridge. Remember that you are inour territory and still breathe only at my indulgence.”
Riker exchanged a look with Deanna, who was sitting up now too. He’s very serious, Will,she thought to him. Better play along.
Though he was tempted to drag his feet as a show of protest, Riker was eager to get answers, so he dressed and made his way to the bridge as quickly as possible, Deanna right beside him. The rest of the main bridge crew was also in the process of assembling as he arrived, presumably summoned by Hachesa.
“Elder Qui’hibra,” he greeted his intruder curtly, then looked at the others behind him, another male and a crestless female. “And these are?”
“My clan matriarch and daughter, Qui’chiri. And Hunter Se’hraqua, who is here to witness the cost of his negligence. There is no time for pleasantries, Riker—the Great Hounding has begun.”
Qui’hibra gestured at the screen with a small tilt of his head; clearly he was not one for melodrama. Riker stepped down to the center of the bridge for a better view—and his eyes widened.
On the screen, hundreds of Pa’haquel ships were swarming around something… immense.It was cylindrical, rounded, pocked like an asteroid, yet it was under thrust, firing discrete blasts of blue-hot plasma from a sort of rocket nozzle at the far end, and expelling jets from side openings to maneuver. Some of the jets seemed to be aimed at the attackers. Seven enormous spines extended outward from its body, each one the stem for a vast sail; the sails overlapped like flower petals to form a wide, diaphanous skirt around the creature’s body. It was clearly a living thing, and the Pa’haquel were clearly trying to change that, barraging it with heavy fire. No, not just the Pa’haquel—Riker realized that some of the attacking ships were different in design, not armored jellies but more conventional starships. But they were like wasps swarming around an elephant. He winced as a maneuvering jet hit a hunter skymount dead-on. The saucer was blasted away into an uncontrolled spin, leaking fluids into space. This was the Great Hounding? Some kind of mighty hunt to prove themselves? Why drag him all this way to show him this?