---------------------------------------- 
Centerpiece 
by Lianne Burwell 
April 2000 
----------------------------------------

"That does it. I am not going on anymore away missions. The 
Captain can just find herself another shuttle pilot."

Tom Paris turned and paced the width of the cell, seven 
paces exactly. Barely long enough to hold the two cots. The 
width was even shorter, a mere three paces between those 
cots.

"You are being melodramatic."

Tom turned to face the man lying on one of the cots. As 
usual, the Vulcan's face was almost completely 
expressionless.

"I'm serious! Every time I go on an away mission something 
goes wrong."

"You also exaggerate."

"Sure I do. I crash-land, get tossed in prisons, accused of 
murder. Every single time. Even worse, I drag other people 
along with me."

Tom threw up his arms in disgust. He knew that he was being 
melodramatic: He didn't need Tuvok to point that out. 
However, it gave him something to do, which kept him from 
thinking too hard about their situation.

"As I said, you exaggerate. While these events do happen, 
they do not happen as often as you imply. As well, they 
occur to away missions which you are not a part of. It is 
illogical to assume that you are the focus of... bad luck."

"How can you be so damned calm?"

"There is no point in expending energy in being upset."

"Big talk from a man in his skivvies."

That got Tuvok's attention. His head turned to the side so 
that he could see Tom and one eyebrow went up in that move 
so Vulcan that Tom wondered if they deliberately taught 
their kids how to do it.

"My... skivvies?"

"Yes, your skivvies. Shorts. Underwear. Not a heck of a 
lot. Aren't you cold?"

"The temperature is adequate."

"Then why am *I* shivering?" Tom said, rubbing his hands 
over the goosebumps on his arms. Every so often, a shiver 
ran through his body.

"You appear to be suffering from the symptoms of shock. It 
would be best if you were to lie down and relax."

"Right. Like I'm going to be able to do that."

"Lie down, Ensign."

Tom thought about arguing the soft order, if only on 
principle, then sighed. He sat down on the edge of the cot. 
Then, when Tuvok looked at him expectantly, he lay down on 
his back, wishing that their captors had bothered to 
provide them with pillows. Or blankets, even.

"Good. Now take a deep breath and hold it. Now let it out 
slowly." Tuvok waited until Tom had followed his 
directions. "Repeat. Again."

Lulled into an almost dreamlike state, Tom followed the 
instructions. With each release of breath, he felt the 
shivers die down. Slowly, he realized that Tuvok was right: 
the cell was more than warm enough for them, maybe even a 
little *too* warm. No. The temperature was *not* the 
problem. "Sorry about that."

"Apologies are unnecessary. The cause is sufficient."

"Yeah. I just don't react well to being locked up." Tom 
tried to make it sound like a joke, but he wasn't surprised 
when Tuvok heard past that.

"Unsurprising, considering your history. Are you feeling 
calmer?"

"Yes. So now what?"

"We wait. In seventeen point three six hours, Voyager will 
reach the rendezvous point. They will likely wait 
approximately an hour in case we were delayed. Then they 
will travel to this world in search of us. It would require 
three-point-two hours at top speed, but they will likely 
travel at a lower speed so that they can scan for signs of 
our presence along the route, in case we had difficulty 
with the Delta Flyer."

"So we hang on for about twenty-four hours until they get 
here."

"Correct."

"I can do that." It was certainly better than two months on 
the planet at the bottom of a spatial sinkhole

"I never thought otherwise."

Tom stared up at the pseudo-plaster ceiling, counting the 
cracks. And if they were *really* lucky, they would just be 
left in their tiny cell until then.

Naaaaah. Not with his luck.

>>>~~~<<<

A bang on the cell door woke Tom from a rather pleasant 
dream. He pulled himself into a sitting position, his heart 
pounding from the shock of the unexpected noise. He was a 
little surprised that he'd actually fallen asleep at some 
point. Perhaps counting cracks in the ceiling was just as 
good as counting sheep. On the other cot, Tuvok sat up, 
apparently completely unconcerned. Tom felt a momentary 
flash of irritation, wondering what it would take to get a 
reaction out of the calm Vulcan.

The door opened, and an armed guard beckoned them.

For a moment, Tom thought that jumping the guy might be an 
option. Then he saw the three other guards in the hallway 
and gave up on *that* idea. Besides, where the hell would 
they go? Better to wait for Voyager.

The guards were typical of the Taplec -- tall, nearly a 
foot taller than either him or Tuvok. Their skin was a 
strange coppery color, unlike any that occurred in humans, 
and their hair hung in long braids, straight and black. 
They almost looked like the old stereotype of an American 
Indian. Each carried what looked like a spear, except that 
the weapons were made entirely of metal and had a series of 
buttons embedded in their surfaces.

After a second, more irritated gesture, Tuvok got to his 
feet and headed for the door. Tom decided to follow his 
example, since Tuvok *was* in charge of the away-mission, 
such as it was.

Tom looked around curiously as they walked down the 
hallway. He hadn't gotten a look at their surroundings when 
they'd come in, since they'd been gassed in their guest 
quarters the night before. They'd woken up in their cell 
with pounding headaches.

Well, he'd had a headache. He wasn't so sure about Tuvok.

And the only reason they even knew how much time had passed 
was because Tuvok, like most Vulcans, seemed to have come 
with a built-in alarm clock.

The hallway they were walking down was fairly nondescript. 
Just plain white walls, made of the same pseudo-plaster as 
the walls and ceiling of their cell, lined on both sides by 
doors, and each door had a small view-screen, showing the 
occupant or occupants. Most of them appeared to be empty, 
though, and Tom wondered why. Was this some sort of prison, 
either for criminals or the mentally ill? Or did it have 
some other purpose?

The hallway took a sharp turn suddenly, and they found 
themselves in an open area. Before Tom could get an idea of 
the size of the room, a hard shove in the back for each of 
them and they were thrust into the middle of the space. Tom 
squinted, blinded by the bright lights shining down on 
them.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered to Tuvok, 
glancing around for a clue as to what was going on. The 
lights kept him from seeing anything useful.

"I'm afraid I must concur," Tuvok replied levelly. A voice 
rang out, sounding depressingly like an auctioneer. Tom 
wished again that their communicators hadn't been taken 
along with their uniforms, since the devices also held 
universal translators. Without them, they didn't have a 
clue what their captors were saying.

Voices were calling out in rapid succession. They all had 
the faintly artificial tone of voices being transmitted.

Suddenly, one of the guards stepped forward and gestured 
with his weapon.

"What?" Tom said.

The guard gestured again at about waist level.

"I believe he wishes for us to drop our... skivvies," Tuvok 
said.

"Well he can forget it!" Tom snarled, stepping back from 
the guard and crossing his arms over his chest. The guard 
immediately stepped closer and gestured again. This time 
the tip of the spear-like device glowed a bright blue.

"I suggest that we cooperate," Tuvok said, already pushing 
down his Starfleet standard briefs. "Our only goal is to 
remain together, and alive, until Voyager arrives. 
Embarrassment is irrelevant."

"You sound just like seven," Tom muttered. He eyed the 
guard for a moment, then sighed. "I think I'm going to 
regret this," he said to himself, then slipped his own 
briefs down to his ankles. He resisted the typical male 
urge to check out Tuvok's equipment.

Once they had stepped out of their underwear, the guard 
gestured for them to turn in place. "Great," he drawled to 
Tuvok. "I feel like a piece of meat at market."

"That comparison appears to be quite apt."

Finally, the bidding slowed until there was just two 
voices, then one. There was a pinging sound that seemed to 
indicate the end of the auction.

The guard gestured for them to put their briefs back on and 
they followed him to the door opposite the one they'd 
entered through. On the other side, a new group of guards 
waited, all female this time, dressed in some sort of fancy 
uniform.

Tom looked at the shackles that the newcomers were holding 
and sighed. "How much longer?" he asked Tuvok, just a 
*little* plaintively.

"Eighteen-point-six hours," was the impassive reply.

"Great," Tom said, holding out his wrists. "I can do this, 
I can do this," he muttered as the cold metal closed around 
them. "I hope."

>>>~~~<<<

Tom was starting to get a little pissed at Tuvok. During 
the long drive to one of the estates outside of the 
capital, the man hadn't said a word. They still didn't even 
know who was behind their kidnapping or why. On the other 
hand, the why could probably be guessed. By why *them*?

They'd arrived on Taplec almost a week earlier to negotiate 
trade and passage through Taplec space for Voyager. In 
fact, everything had gone just dandy. They'd worked out an 
agreement for Voyager to trade information on the space 
adjoining Taplec territory that they'd traveled through for 
edibles and raw materials for the replicators. Passage was 
granted without a second thought. They'd been invited to 
party after party, no doubt because of their status as 
exotic foreigners. Everything was perfect.

Or it had been perfect until they'd gone back to their 
rooms to get a good night's sleep before taking off in the 
morning to rendezvous with Voyager only to wake up hours 
later in a cramped cell, stripped to their briefs and with 
pounding headaches.

Well, all they had to do was hang on for another twenty 
hours until Rambo Janeway came storming to the rescue. She 
was very good at that. It gave her an excuse to pull out 
that giant phaser rifle she liked so much.

Still, it would be easier if he knew what was going to 
happen to them in that timeframe. He'd tried discussing the 
possibilities with Tuvok, but the guards had growled and 
all Tuvok would say was that speculating without facts 
served no purpose.

If he didn't like the man so much, he'd really hate him. 
Unfortunately, Tuvok was a hard man to hate, even when he 
was at his most annoying, since there was never any ill-
intent behind his behavior.

Finally, after a little over an hour, they pulled to a stop 
in front of a large building, first in a series of single-
story buildings up on stilt-like bases, connected by 
breeze-ways that made up the majority of upper-class 
estates on Taplec. They'd been to several during their stay 
and Tom had been impressed with the simplicity of the 
designs, perfect for the hot, tropical world.

They climbed out of the vehicle and a man who was obviously 
the estate's majordomo led them through a dizzying maze of 
hallways and breezeways until they reached what was 
probably the servants' quarters. There, they were shown to 
a small room only slightly better than their last cell. 
This one *did* had a window to let in fresh air and natural 
light, though, even if it was too high and too small to 
allow escape.

And then they were left alone, the door locked behind them.

"Here we go again," Tom griped, then tossed himself onto 
one of the beds -- well, cot. At least this one had pillows 
and sheets. In this heat, blankets weren't really 
necessary.

>>>~~~<<<

Tom was beginning to think that maybe they were going to 
stay in the small room until Voyager arrived. They were 
fed, but otherwise left alone. He'd tried to nap, but the 
combination of the heat and the stress had kept him awake, 
so he and Tuvok ended up playing mental chess to pass the 
time. His memory was very good, but the exercise was taking 
all his concentration. It was a good thing, though -- it 
kept him distracted. 

He'd just lost his third game in a row, although he'd made 
his roommate work for the last victory and had gotten a nod 
of approval at the end. Tom almost beamed at the silent 
compliment. If he had to be stuck in this sort of 
situation, Tuvok was just the sort of companion he'd want. 
Harry was a little too hyper, Seven too dull, Janeway too 
scary and Chakotay... well, there was something about the 
first officer that made him want to get up the man's nose.

And B'Elanna... Well, they'd been on the outs lately. The 
two of them together in a room under these circumstances 
would at best result in a shouting fight and at worst, 
bloodshed. He still liked B'Elanna, although he wondered if 
he'd ever really loved her, but they were like fire and 
gasoline: an explosive but inevitably destructive 
combination.

By the start of the fourth game, the light through the 
window was starting to fade. They were four moves into the 
game when the door opened. The majordomo stood there, 
gesturing to them to follow, saying something that they 
couldn't understand.

As they trailed after the fussy little man, Tom said to 
Tuvok in an undertone, "I swear, as soon as we get home, 
I'm getting a sub-dermal translator. This is ridiculous."

Tuvok didn't reply, but he looked sympathetic. Sub-dermal 
translators weren't used often, since the materials used 
could be irritating to many people, but they were nearly 
impossible to remove -- a definite plus in situations such 
as these. They could also be used as locators for the 
ship's scanners. Voyager was going to have to do a lot of 
scanning to find them when the ship arrived, Tom thought 
grimly.

They were led into a large room with a small pool in the 
middle. The majordomo turned to them and indicated that 
they should remove their briefs and wash themselves. Tom 
glanced over at Tuvok and found the man already following 
the order. Tom shrugged and dropped his own briefs. In the 
last twenty-four hours, more people had seen him naked than 
in the last year, and other than Tuvok, they were all 
strangers. Not one of his kinks.

The water was pleasantly cool and Tom sighed happily as his 
coating of sweat was washed away. Unscented soap and rough 
sponges were handed to him and one of the bath attendants 
even scrubbed his back for him. For a moment, he could 
almost imagine that he was at some sort of exclusive spa, 
being pampered.

Then they got out of the bath and saw the clothing -- 
assuming it could be called that -- waiting for them. The 
illusion vanished.

Thongs, and not the type you wore on your feet. Very *tiny* 
thongs. Silver for Tuvok and gold for Tom. The scraps of 
fabric didn't cover, they emphasized.

But since their briefs were gone, it was that or stay 
naked, so they pulled on the embarrassing little things, as 
well as the jewelry they were handed. Nothing *too* weird, 
Tom was pleased to note. At least, nothing that involved 
making holes in his body.. When they were done, the 
attendants carefully spread oil over them and brushed them 
with gold and silver dust until they almost glowed.

Then the majordomo clapped his hands and led them away.

"I have got a *really* bad feeling about this," Tom moaned.

This time, even Tuvok looked grim.

>>>~~~<<<

The room they were led to next turned out to be some sort 
of large banquet hall. Long tables were set in a square 
around the center of the room with the corners left open 
for servant to pass through. In the exact center of the 
room was a large table. The utensils set out said that it 
was going to be a serving table.

And in the middle of the table was what looked to be some 
sort of anti-grav unit.

"What the hell? Are we the main course or something?"

"Calm yourself, Ensign. I doubt they intend to eat us."

"Really? Well, if they aren't going to eat us, I'm not sure 
I *want* to know what they intend."

They were herded up steps placed in front of a sturdy 
table, the majordomo close behind them. When they arrived 
at the large circle that marked the edges of the anti-grav 
unit, the majordomo he stopped and stared at them for a 
moment, frowning as if he were considering a puzzle.

Then he pointed to Tom, then the center of the circle. Not 
sure what to expect, he obeyed. There, with light touches 
and incomprehensible orders, he was maneuvered into a 
supine position.

Then Tuvok was positioned on top of him, and their limbs 
were manipulated until they were in a position...

Tom blushed. It was a position all right. They looked as if 
they were having sex. Tuvok was almost kneeling over him, 
one knee pressed tight against Tom's groin. One of Tom's 
legs curled around the back of Tuvok's thighs and Tuvok's 
arms pulled their chests together. Tom left/right arm was 
wrapped around Tuvok's waist, his hand cupping the base of 
Tuvok's head as if drawing him down for a kiss.

Once the majordomo was satisfied with their placing, but 
before their muscles could start to tire from the demanding 
positioning, the anti-grav was turned on, lifting them up 
and taking the strain off their limbs, locking them in 
position.

"Great," Tom mumbled, the field allowing them just enough 
range of motion so that they could breathe and shift 
slightly, but not make big moves. "What are we?"

"I believe we are intended to be a... centerpiece," Tuvok 
replied softly.

"A what? Sheesh, what's wrong with flowers?"

As they hovered in mid-air, servants moved in and out of 
the room, carrying dishes that were placed on the table 
below them, as well as flowers, Tom saw. Why couldn't they 
have settled for *just* flowers? Soft lights were lit, and 
fake torches gave a flickering effect. The silver dusting 
on Tuvok's face glistened appealingly in the soft light and 
Tom wondered what they looked like to spectators. 
Unfortunately, the range of movement didn't allow him to 
turn his head to get a better idea.

Then someone must have pressed a control, since they 
started to slowly revolve in place. The guests had started 
to arrive and were being seated. But the combination of the 
strange food earlier, the tension, the movement, and the 
effect of anti-grav was having a different sort of effect 
on Tom.

"Tuvok..."

"Yes, Ensign?"

"I'm going to be sick." It wasn't just the vertigo, it was 
also the stress of being so thoroughly restrained. Tom had 
never liked being tied up and this was far beyond the sort 
of bondage games that B'Elanna had once suggested. She'd 
thrown a brief tantrum before accepting that he wasn't 
going to change his mind.

"Now would not be a good time," Tuvok said, breaking into 
his mental ramblings.

"No shit. But my stomach doesn't seem to care about that."

Silence. Tom was beginning to wonder how gold dust looked 
against green when Tuvok finally spoke again. "I believe I 
can help with your nausea."

"Oh really?" Tom said sarcastically. "And how do you plan 
on doing that?"

"Vulcan bio-feedback techniques can control the nausea 
without difficulty."

"That's nice. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to 
learn those techniques."

"A mind-meld would allow me to teach you them."

"Doesn't a mind-meld usually require you to be able to 
touch the pressure points? In case you haven't noticed, we 
can't move." Tom could hear a slight edge of panic in his 
own voice and his stomach lurched again.

"Normally, that would be true. However, as we have melded 
in the past, simple physical contact should suffice."

"Well, we've certainly got that," Tom said wryly. With 
their lack of clothing and intimate position, physical 
contact was something they had *plenty* of.

By this point, the tables around them had filled with 
elegantly dressed diners. Servants were setting out the 
opening courses and filling glasses while the guests looked 
up at the display and nodded approvingly, carrying on 
conversations that Tom could barely hear. Not that that 
mattered, since he couldn't understand the words.

It was all very embarrassing, and yet at the same time it 
was faintly arousing. The position and the exposure, 
combined with the uncertainty of their fate were acting 
like a powerful aphrodisiac.

Or it might have if he weren't about to hurl.

And then there was a pressure, both elusive and familiar. 
Tom closed his eyes and concentrated on that pressure, 
trying to open up to it. Even this was almost sexual, like 
relaxing his body for physical penetration.

And strangely enough, that mental image helped. All at 
once, he could feel Tuvok inside his mind, comfortable and 
completely at home.

~ Thomas ~

~ I hear you ~

~ Allow me ~

~ If it keeps me from upchucking all over you, go for it ~

He felt a feeling suspiciously like amusement from Tuvok, 
then a sensation almost like... stroking? Yes, that was as 
good a description as any. It was like Tuvok was stroking 
him from the inside, calming the churning in his stomach.

After a moment, Tom opened his eyes and was surprised to 
find that the slowly spinning motion wasn't bothering him 
anymore. His panic had receded. In fact, he was perfectly 
calm.

~ Tuvok? ~ he queried.

~ I am afraid I took liberties ~

~ Don't worry about it. Now what? ~

There was a fleeting sense of resignation and maybe a touch 
of annoyance. ~ We continue to wait ~ was all Tuvok said. 
Or maybe thought was a better word for it.

~ Okay. So... How 'bout we continue our chess game? ~

~ It would be a good way to pass the time ~

Tom closed his eyes again and pictured his mental 
chessboard. It took a moment before he remembered what 
their moves had been, then he set the mental chess pieces 
in place. ~ Your move ~

He felt a surprised approval from Tuvok. Then one of the 
pieces in his mind shifted. He was a little shocked. He was 
expecting Tuvok to just tell him what his move was, like 
before, not change his own imagery. On the other hand, 
since they were now able to do this mind-to-mind, why not? 
Going with Tuvok's lead, he just moved a piece instead of 
calling his move.

~ An interesting chess set ~ Tuvok commented, surprising 
Tom. He hadn't expected small-talk from the man.

He shrugged, although the field they were caught in muted 
the move until it was barely more than a twitch. ~ It's an 
antique wooden Spanish set, based on the story of Don 
Quixote. It sat in my father's study for as long as I can 
remember. I learnt to play chess with it ~

He smiled at the memory. His father wasn't the most patient 
of men, but he'd spent hours explaining the moves that each 
piece was able to make to a five-year-old who didn't 
understand why he couldn't just move them the way he 
*wanted* to. And as the years went by, he taught his son 
the classic strategies in chess. He claimed it was because 
a future admiral needed to understand chess as preparation 
for strategic long-term thinking, but Tom knew that he just 
enjoyed playing.

Then his father had been captured by the Cardassians. When 
he'd returned to Earth, the chess games never resumed. And 
while Tom understood -- intellectually, at least -- he 
still resented the loss of the man who'd sat across that 
chess board from him.

~ It is appropriate to grieve, Thomas ~

Tom stiffened. He hadn't realized that he was thinking so 
loud. ~ Sorry ~

~ There is no need to apologize. Under the circumstances, 
shielding intense thoughts is difficult. I will endeavor to 
block them, if you would prefer ~

~ Nah, that's alright. I'll just avoid thinking of anything 
I don't want you to know about ~

That earned him an amused smile; mentally at least. ~ Do 
not think of an elephant ~

Immediately, the image popped into his mind of a dancing 
pink pachyderm in a tutu from an old television cartoon. He 
snorted. ~ Point taken ~

~ Indeed. An interesting elephant, I might add ~

~ Isn't it ~

They went back to their chess game.

Tom lost the next game, but the game after that, he won, 
much to his surprise. Tuvok's strategy had almost been an 
open book as far as he was concerned. ~ Tuvok? ~

There was a mental frown. ~ I shall have to work harder at 
keeping us separated ~ he said.

~ Well, my stomach is settled. Perhaps you should just 
break the meld ~

~ A good idea ~

Tom waited. For a moment he could feel their minds 
separating. Then a searing pain went through him and if 
he'd been able to draw a deep enough breath, he would have 
screamed.

Immediately, the tearing stopped. He panted shallowly as he 
recovered from the strain. ~ Okay, that wasn't a good idea. 
What happened? ~

~ I... do not know. I have never had a meld react that way 
~

~ Maybe it's because we're still in skin-to-skin contact 
with each other ~

~ Perhaps ~

~ Okay, so we wait until they take us down. Once we aren't 
touching, the meld should dissolve on its own, right? ~

~ Perhaps ~

Tom frowned. ~ What do you mean, perhaps? ~

There was no response for a moment. ~ Some trace of the 
meld may remain. It is not unheard off if a meld continues 
for an extended period of time ~

~ Oh. Okay ~

~ As well, there may be subconscious instincts in play ~

~ What sort of instincts? ~ Tom asked suspiciously.

There was a pause before Tuvok responded. ~ Pon Farr ~

~ What, now? ~ Tom's eyes widened and he stared up into 
Tuvok's face. He didn't know much about the physical 
condition that hit Vulcans every seven years. Even after 
what happened with Vorik and B'Elanna, it still required a 
command level password or the order of the Chief Medical 
Officer to get anything more than rumor out of the 
computers. Privacy laws.

Tuvok's amusement was clear. ~ No, not now. I would 
estimate that it will be eight months from now ~

~ Estimate? ~ Tom teased, relaxing. ~ I would have thought 
that you'd have it pinned down to the minute ~

~ Biological conditions are not so easily timed ~

~ True. Ask any human female about *their* cycles ~

~ I would prefer not to ~

~ Good idea. So, getting back to the subject... ~

~ Indeed. As I said, my Pon Farr will occur in 
approximately eight months. I am uncertain as to how our 
experiences with various temporal anomalies will affect the 
timing ~

~ So, what does that have to do with stubborn melds? ~

~ It is unlikely that we will return to the Alpha Quadrant 
in that period of time. As a result, I will not be able to 
reach my wife. It is not unheard of for a Vulcan in this 
position to form a bond with an acceptable replacement, 
sometimes unconsciously ~

~ Really? This has happened before? When? Whoops, never 
mind. That was a nosy question ~

Tuvok didn't answer, but an image formed briefly in his 
mind. Ambassador Spock as a young man and Admiral James T 
Kirk, during his original captaincy on the Enterprise.

~ Oops. You know, there was a lot of speculation about 
those two ~

~ It was partially correct. Their original bond formed 
during Ambassador Spock's Pon Farr. Afterwards, they 
severed most of the link. It was not until nearly a decade 
later that they formalized their bonding ~

~ I wonder why... Never mind, it doesn't really matter, 
does it? ~

~ No ~

~ So back to you. What happens when *your* Pon Farr comes? 
~

~ There are several choices. Meditation ~

~ Fat lot of good that did Vorik ~

~ I am older with more experience. He did not know what to 
expect, therefore could not control the instincts ~

~ Right. Next option? ~

~ Forming a temporary bond with a substitute. It might 
leave the marriage bond unaffected, although that is 
uncertain ~

~ Okay ~

~ The last option would be to sever the marriage bond and 
form a new permanent bonding ~

~ In other words, divorce your wife and remarry ~

~ Essentially ~

~ So what are you planning on doing, if you don't mind me 
asking ~

~ My intention was to attempt to control it through 
meditation. If that did not work, the Captain has offered 
to form a temporary bonding ~

Tom winced. ~ Somehow, I don't think that would be a good 
idea ~

Above him, he could see Tuvok's eyebrows go up. ~ How so? ~

~ Well, you, the Captain and Chakotay have built a stable 
relationship, so to speak, with each other. However, 
Chakotay has been courting the Captain for a while, and if 
you were to... you know, it might bring out the alpha male 
in him. The two of you butting heads wouldn't be good for 
the ship. Plus, the Captain is your commanding officer. 
There *is* a reason why they discourage crew in the same 
chain of command for becoming involved, and it isn't just 
tradition. It's the main reason that she and Chakotay are 
still dancing after all these years ~

He could feel the surprise from Tuvok. ~ Well thought out. 
It also matches my thoughts. What would you suggest, then? 
~

~ Someone unattached that doesn't report directly to you. 
Someone in Science or Engineering, perhaps. Have you 
considered Seven? She would probably agree ~ Tom felt a 
flash of unease at the thought.

From Tuvok, he felt distaste at the idea. ~ She is still 
too emotionally immature. It would not be appropriate ~

It was true. Seven had grown a lot since joining the crew, 
but it many ways she was still an innocent. ~ Plus Mama 
Janeway might object to you fooling around with her little 
girl ~

Again, he could feel amusement from Tuvok. Who ever said 
that Vulcan's didn't have a sense of humor?

~ So ~ he finally said. ~ You've obviously been thinking 
about this for a while, so who do *you* have in mind? ~

Tuvok fell silent long enough for Tom to notice their 
surroundings again. The meal had been cleared and the 
guests were now...

His eyes widened in shock. The party was turning into an 
orgy, he suddenly realized with a blush. It certainly made 
an interesting backdrop to their conversation.

~ You ~

~ What? ~ Tom turned his attention back to Tuvok, not quite 
sure what the man was saying.

~ You inquired as to who I had in mind. You ~

~ Me? ~ If he'd been speaking out loud, he would have 
squeaked. Then his eyes narrowed. ~ You know, Tuvok, no 
matter what anyone says, I have *not* slept with half the 
crew. I am *not* an easy lay ~

~ I did not consider you because of your reputation. I do 
not consider you to simply be an 'easy lay.' I made a list 
of crew that is not directly under my command. Then I 
eliminated anyone who is currently involved in a committed 
relationship. Then I eliminated anyone I have not spent 
enough time with to be... comfortable with. Finally, I 
eliminated anyone I considered likely to react negatively 
to the suggestion ~

~ And what, I was the only person left? ~

~ No. There were actually seven names left. Then I 
considered... personal preferences ~

~ Of the people on the list? ~ Tom asked, wondering who the 
other six might have been.

~ My own ~

That threw Tom off balance, mentally speaking. ~ Your own 
personal preferences? ~

~ Correct ~

~ What do you mean? ~

~ We work well together. We have melded before. Our 
personal hobbies overlap. I consider you a friend. We are 
compatible. Since your relationship with Lieutenant Torres 
had ended, it was my intention to approach you in the near 
future ~

Tom was speechless. While being chosen by process of 
elimination might sound a little cold, he found himself 
both embarrassed and pleased by the Vulcan-style 
compliment.

~ Tuvok? ~

~ Yes, Thomas? ~

~ Did you just proposition me? ~

But before Tuvok could answer, there was a shimmer of light 
and the room was suddenly full of Voyager security, led by 
Rambo Janeway, carrying that ridiculously over-sized phaser 
she was so attached to.

"Nobody move!" she bellowed.

Then her eyes went wide as she took in the scene in front 
of her. The natives were writhing in groups of two, three 
and more. In fact, in one corner was a complicated knot 
that looked to involve six individuals along with some toys 
that Tom didn't want to consider too closely. One thing for 
sure, none of the parties they'd been invited to during the 
negotiations had been like this.

Then she caught sight of Tom and Tuvok in their rotating 
position and the tough expression disappeared, replaced 
with the strained expression of someone trying not to 
laugh. She strode over, checked the controls on the anti-
grav device, then just blasted it.

Instantly, the field was gone and they dropped four feet to 
the table surface. Tom hit first, then Tuvok landed on him, 
driving all the air out of his lungs.

He lay there gasping, trying to re-inflate his lungs. After 
a moment, Tuvok shifted off of him. ~ My apologies ~

~ No problem ~ he replied automatically. Then he realized 
that they were still linked, even though they weren't 
touching anymore. The intensity had faded, though. Oh well, 
it was better than the earlier pain when Tuvok had tried to 
separate them.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the Captain beat 
him to it. "Ready to leave, gentlemen?"

"Leaving is good," Tom managed to say.

A moment later, the transporter effect surrounded them, 
whisking them home.

>>>~~~<<<

"So anyway, we arrived at the rendezvous point and you 
weren't in scanning distance. I had a hunch, so we came 
straight here, instead of conducting a search along the 
way. When we arrived, we found the Flyer still in its 
landing spot and the local government in a panic over your 
disappearance. After that, it was just a matter of scanning 
for your communicator signals."

"But we weren't wearing them," Tom pointed out, confused. 
He felt a lot better now that he'd washed off the glitter 
and oil and put on a proper uniform. He had a feeling that 
he wasn't going to be able to live this one down. Of 
course, if the tale of him in gold got around, at least 
Tuvok would be sharing the same sort of... exposure.

"No, but the procurers hadn't disposed of them. The signals 
led us to their headquarters -- and the government was very 
pleased to have the chance to break up that criminal 
outfit, I might add. The slavers were... *convinced* to 
tell us who they sold you to and where to find that buyer. 
We were a little worried about what might have happened to 
you. We weren't exactly expecting...." She trailed off, 
chewing on her lip to keep from laughing.

"Yeah, well if they had plans for us, they hadn't gotten to 
them yet."

The Captain quickly sobered up. "Apparently *that* was 
supposed to be the grand finale to the party."

"Oh." Tom glanced over at Tuvok, but the man had his stone 
face on. Tom wasn't exactly sure what that 'grand finale' 
would have involved, but he figured that he was better off 
not knowing. "Well, I'm glad that you *didn't* take the 
scenic route."

The smile was back. "My pleasure, Mr. Paris. Now, I suggest 
that the two of you go get some sleep. We'll be breaking 
orbit as soon as the supplies you bargained for are loaded. 
In fact, the government is throwing in some extras in 
apology."

"If you will pardon me, Captain," Tuvok broke in. "I should 
debrief the security team first."

"Surely the evaluation can wait until tomorrow."

He shook his head. "It is better done while the information 
is fresh in their minds."

"Well, if you insist. I'll see the two of you later."

As they left the ready room, Tom glanced over at Tuvok, but 
the man was already heading off at a determined pace. Tom 
wanted to continue their conversation from earlier, but it 
looked like that wasn't going to happen. At least, not yet.

Later, then.

>>>~~~<<<

Tom sighed and settled back on the sofa in his quarters. 
He'd had a large meal with all his favorite foods, deciding 
to splurge some replicator credits. He'd only had one meal 
in the last twenty-four hours, and he'd been too nervous to 
eat much. Now he was pleasantly relaxed and half-asleep.

The door signal pinged and he ignored it, just like he'd 
ignored it the last three times. He wasn't interested in 
conversation at the moment, especially not with anyone 
amused by the stories of what had happened which were no 
doubt all over the ship by now. He'd see Harry and B'Elanna 
and the others tomorrow.

~ Thomas ~ It was faint, but the link was still there.

Tom sat up. ~ Yes? ~

~ May I come in? We should talk ~

~ Sure ~ He turned off the privacy locks, allowing the door 
to open for the man. Once Tuvok was inside, he reactivated 
the locks.

"So," he said, fidgeting a little under the dark-eyed 
stare.

"I hope that my words earlier did not upset you."

"We were linked. You know very well that they didn't." Far 
from it, in fact. He had the disturbing thought that if it 
hadn't been for the combination of the field they'd been 
trapped in and Tuvok's soothing his body, the Captain would 
have found them not only wrapped around each other, but Tom 
would have been sporting a woody as well.

"True."

They stood in silence for a while until Tom was wondering 
if something was wrong. "And?" he prompted.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"I am propositioning you."

Tom leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over 
his chest. "For what?"

"Pardon?"

"Are you looking for just a one-night stand? Or something a 
little more long term?"

Tuvok's expression didn't change, but Tom could feel the 
uncertainty through their link.

"I do not know," Tuvok finally admitted.

"Well, at least that's honest," Tom said, staring at the 
floor while he thought. The carpeting was a little shabby 
after the years, he noticed idly.

"All right," he said after thinking it through. "Let's 
start with this. I will help you through the Pon Farr. 
After that, we'll see if we're both interested in 
continuing in a proper relationship. Sound good?"

"Very sensible."

"So, now what happens? We go our separate ways until then? 
By the way, you *can* sit down if you like."

"Thank you," Tuvok said, taking a seat on the sofa. Tom 
moved over to sit at the opposite end.

"Pon Farr is caused by the release of a hormone that causes 
Vulcans to become fertile," Tuvok explained, dropping into 
a lecture mode. "This hormone builds up in the system until 
it is released. This is done most effectively by mating."

"Or fighting," Tom said, remembering Vorik. "But how would 
meditation work?"

"Meditation channels the violent urges into other pathways. 
It is most effective when the person recognizes the 
earliest signs and begins immediately."

"And since it was Vorik's first time, by the time anyone 
realized what was happening, it was too late."

"Exactly."

Tom nodded. "So what happens? When you start feeling the 
urges, you come see me?"

Tuvok hesitated again. In fact, he seemed almost 
embarrassed. "There is another alternative."

"What?"

"The type of Pon Farr that involves violence is one in 
which the hormones build to high levels. During a Vulcan's 
first Pon Farr, this is allowed to happen. The marriage is 
then consummated at the height of the cycle. It is 
considered a test of the bonding."

"In other words, if they survive that, they can survive 
anything?"

"Essentially. After the first time, however, the hormones 
are not allowed to build to those levels."

Tom thought about it for a moment. "So, you can start 
bleeding off the hormone early, before it starts to cause 
violent behavior. Like starting the meditation at the 
earliest stages."

"Correct."

"And this is usually done through sex."

"Correct."

"And at what point does that start?"

There was a flash of embarrassment through the link again. 
If it weren't for Tuvok's dark complexion, he'd probably be 
blushing bright green by that point. "Approximately one 
year before the Pon Farr."

Tom stared at him. "It's already started?" Tuvok nodded. 
"You haven't acted..."

"The hormone release is very low at them moment. It will be 
several months before it builds to significant levels."

"But it's better to start bleeding it off now."

"Correct."

"Boy, Chakotay would have *really* loved it if you taken 
the Captain up on her offer," Tom muttered to himself. Then 
he grinned.

Then he got to his feet and held out a hand to Tuvok. 
"Well, in that case, how about we give it a test drive?"

Tuvok raised one eyebrow. "A test drive?"

"Right," Tom said, his grin getting broader by the moment. 
"Let's see just how compatible we are. And if it doesn't 
work out, we'll look at the alternatives."

Tuvok stood up. "Mr. Paris, are you propositioning me?" he 
asked, echoing Tom's comment on the planet below.

"It seems the appropriate thing to do," Tom said wickedly.

"Indeed."

The next thing that Tom knew, he was pressed up against 
Tuvok again, a hard thigh pressed against his rapidly 
swelling groin, only this time there was no director 
picking the position. Tom groaned, only to have the sound 
swallowed by a mouth claiming his.

~ A test drive would be most appropriate ~

As Tuvok maneuvered him towards the bedroom, Tom thought to 
himself that compatibility in bed was *not* going to be a 
problem if that kiss was any indication.

Then he abandoned thought altogether.


THE END