Tuvok sat at one of the tables in the crews’ mess, looking over the padd that had been his source of information about the ship and the crew since arriving a day earlier. Not surprisingly, it was also the only padd on board containing details of the Liberty, and the written records of the crew were sparse -- at best. He had met almost all of the Maquis, save for one that was in the maintenance conduits at the time.
He was beginning to compile his initial report to Starfleet Headquarters.
Chakotay. Highly intelligent. Calm, quiet, and very capable of leadership, if brazen in his feelings and attititudes towards Cardassians and their occupation of plaents in the Demilitarized Zone. B’Elanna Torres. The same intellegence as Chakotay, brilliant almost in the feats of engineering and the workings of the ship. A known Starfleet Academy dropout who still has not lost her lust for picking fights and hostility mostly bearing from her Klingon side. Suder. Dalby. Jerron, a young Bajoran. Henley. Chell, the lone Bolian.
Something prickled in the back of his mind, causing him to look up at the bulkhead staring back at him. He glanced around, noting the presence of no one, the room still and quiet around him. An eyebrow raised in curiousity before going back to his work. Moments later the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, though he would never admit to feeling anything beyond the usual stirrings in his Vulcan telepathy detecting something, and someone very close to him. How close he did not know, nor did he care to find out.
A scuffle from behind caused Tuvok to turn in his seat again, not before flicking the padd to nothing more than a schematic. Coming face to face with the startling blue eyes of a pale-faced human girl, he regarded her with complete blankness in his own dark eyes.
She did not seem startled, flicking her beautiful eyes over him up and down, assessing him, her short and slim stature clothed in simple blackness of high-necked shirt and pants. They regarded each other for some moments before she sat across from him.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Greetings.”
“Hi,” she said back, lowering her face to her hands, keeping her eyes fastened on him. “Are you the one that came with Chakotay yesterday?”
“I am.” Tuvok leaned back in his chair. “My name is…”
“Tuvok.” She finished for him, extending her hand as he raised his eyebrow again. “I’m Sara.”
“Sara. How old are you?” Starfleet had mentioned nothing about family life, if any, aboard this ship. The thought was so far from his presumptions and known reports about Maquis activity that he had not thought it possible.
“Fourteen.” Sara’s clear voice came across the table at him. “You’re a Vulcan.”
“You have a keen perception for stating the obvious,” it caught him by surprise, though of course he did not show it, that there would be a child aboard. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to meet you.” She said simply.
“What is your function on board this ship?”
“Whatever I’m told to do.”
“I see. You are a member of Chakotay’s crew?”
She nodded. “I came here a few months ago. Would you like to play kal-toh?”
“You assume that simply because I am Vulcan, I take part in that game.” Dark eyes shifted to bore into her. She wasn’t fazed.
“I don’t have to assume anything,” Sara stood, at her small height becoming only slightly higher than eye-to-eye with him. “You’ve been playing since the age of seven, when your father started to teach you the basic principles. After that, a Vulcan master took you in hand and spent much time with you, guiding you, lending you to the principles of logic which define the game. You’ve been wondering how one manages to accomplish it here in the Maquis, along with various other leisure pursuits such as cards and chess.”
Tuvok stood so suddenly, his chair tumbled backwards. She took an involuntary step backwards. “How is it,” that he began, showing no indications of his strength or his mishap, “that you know so much about me?”
“I’m a telepath.”
If she had said anything else, Tuvok would have been prepared. He could have used logic, some other form of communication to prove that what she said wasn’t so, but her response shocked him enough that all he could do was remain silent and stare down at her.
“Yeah,” she finally said, sarcasm dripping from her clear, small voice, “that’s about the typical reaction when people first hear about what I am.”
She was halfway out of the messhall when he spoke to her.
Not through his lips but with his mind.
Where?
Sara stopped, then turned slowly, her braids dragging across her back and flipping over her shoulders. She, too, answered without moving her lips.
What?
His reply took longer than he would have wanted it to; he was not accustomed to using his telepathic senses.
The kal-toh. Where is it?
Setonak had one. He left it behind...but there hasn’t been anyone since him that knows how to play.
Do you understand the principles behind such a thing? His voice rumbled through her mind.
She shrugged. It looks pretty. When it shimmers and unfolds into the perfect symmetry…
Bring it here. When I have completed my work I will…assist you in playing. And learning.
He watched impassively as a smile lit up her features, briefly, for a mere instant, as she turned and ran from the room. The door slid shut and stayed that way for moments before he sat, flicking the padd again to the notes that would be secretly transmitted to Starfleet.
His report had just gained more interest than he had ever thought possible.
