Star Trek: Voyager: Endgame

candle, which his family and friends dutifully replenished. During those days he sifted through his Vulcan mind's tremendous stockpile of knowledge and experience and committed data unendingly to paper with a pencil, also replaced almost daily. What he searched for as he scoured his mind was a mystery. No one had been able to figure out what he was trying to accomplish. No one could help.
    “Five-three . . . three-one . . . seven . . . one . . . five-three . . . three-one . . .”
    Tuvok's eyes were fixed on an imagined distance. They were focused, sharp, purposeful, not the vacant orbs usually associated with patients who had lost their grip on reality.
    Neurological disorders remained among the most complex and confounding of medical troubles. In that, the Doctor could take some comfort. They were doing, and had done, everything within their powers for Tuvok. Until today, there had been neither any changes nor any breakthroughs.
    The Doctor was unsure about which of those two he was seeing now.
    Beginning at dawn, Tuvok had smashed his room to splinters. He even broke one of the walls.
    “His condition's never been associated with violent behavior,” the Doctor observed, fishing for confirmations or rumors.
    The other physician, a young hotspur who was used to success, had been whittled to worry about this noble Vulcan who couldn't be helped. “He seems more frustrated than violent.”
    Perhaps the young man was just doing Tuvok a favor, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
    “Three-one . . . seven . . . one . . . five-three . . .”
    The Doctor made a point to note those numbers and the sequence. Certainly they made some sense, had some bearing, or served as a clue. Even in his least connected moments, Tuvok had always made some glimmer of sense.
    He left the intern at the door and moved closer to Tuvok. As he came into the Vulcan's periphery and knew Tuvok could see him, the number recitation suddenly stopped. The Doctor did nothing, but stood still and waited. Tuvok's troubled eyes narrowed as he struggled to think.
    “Long-range sensors . . . have detected no trace . . . her disappearance remains a mystery . . . I'm deeply concerned . . .”
    The Doctor knelt at his side. “What are you concerned about, Tuvok?”
    “Her
disappearance.”
    Tuvok's firm inflection implied that the Doctor should know what he was talking about. So he knew who was in the room with him.
    “Whose?” the Doctor asked, cautious not to put any tone to his question.
    But once again Tuvok drifted away.
    “Five-three . . . three . . . one-seven . . . one . . . five . . .”
    Behind them, the young intern said, “He's been repeating those same numbers over and over. Five-three-three-one-seven-one. It might be a stardate . . .”
    “Stardate 53317,” the Doctor considered. “If my memory files are accurate, that was the day Captain Janeway was abducted by the Kellidians.” He gazed at Tuvok and spoke in the most normal, nonpatronizing tone manageable. “Is that who you're talking about? Captain Janeway?”
    Tuvok became instantly more agitated, his breath coming quick now, his eyes twitching and troubled. “Her disappearance remains a mystery . . .”
    There seemed no solutions to be found here today, and though Tuvok spoke of mysteries, the Doctor could find none. At least now he knew what Tuvok was trying to remember.
    “You solved that mystery, Tuvok,” he offered gently. “You rescued the captain and brought her back to
Voyager
safe and sound. Remember?”
    “I'm deeply concerned . . .”
    The floor creaked and the papers ruffled as the other physician stepped closer. “Maybe if the admiral paid him a visit,” he suggested, “showed him she's all right?”
    “Unfortunately she's out of town,” the Doctor said. “I'm not sure when she'll be back—”
    Tuvok's hand shot out and seized him by the arm, dragged him close and held him until they were eye-to-eye.
    “She's never coming back!” the Vulcan growled.
    The intern jolted and stumbled away toward the door, only to stop himself at the last minute. The Doctor, however, didn't look away from Tuvok's troubled eyes. Something was in there, some clue, some knowledge that
did
apply to today—he was sure of it! They knew each other well enough. Some nodule of reality was trying to force its way from the tangle that had become Tuvok's mind.
    As quickly as the lucid moment appeared, it dropped away. Tuvok's hands lost their strength. His eyes went dull again and