Star Trek: Voyager: Endgame

seemed unable to calculate any possibilities at all. He hovered, a rod in hand, and began to make his move.
    A spontaneous cough from the side interrupted Icheb's attempt. A few steps away, Mr. Kim was making a pretense of disinterest. Thus affected, Icheb changed his strategy, moving the rod to a new position.
    Tuvok cast a disapproving glance at Kim before addressing Icheb directly. “In the interest of fair play, I should inform you that Mr. Kim has never defeated me at
kal-toh.”
    Icheb paused, considering the new information, processed it, and altered his strategy once again. He moved his rod back to the original position and inserted it into the structure.
    Kim sighed. “You should've listened to me.”
    Icheb said nothing, but clearly doubted himself. Curious that a former Borg, so deeply intertwined in an orderly structure, would be easily confused. Of course, a typical drone had a limited program for purpose and was not encouraged to act independently in any way. Even a simple game was, for Icheb, an insurmountable challenge of mind and design.
    On the sideline, Harry Kim's foot accidentally brushed the leg of Tuvok's chair. Tuvok blinked out of his thoughts, analyzed the altered structure, made a conclusion, and inserted his own rod into a position near the top of the geo-design. The structure began to shimmer, and changed its own shape to adjust to his installation.
    “Kal-toh
is as much a game of patience as it is of logic. An experienced player will sometimes take several hours to decide his next move. In some cases, even days are necessary to properly assess—”
    Without taking this as a suggestion, Icheb simply pushed another rod into the structure. Almost immediately!
    The structure shimmered again, but this time with vigor, and crackled into a perfect symmetrical shape.
    “Kal-toh!”
Icheb cried in victory.
    Kim actually left the deck briefly. “You beat him!”
    Impossible!
    Tuvok controlled his reaction in a way he hoped would be admirable to his forebears. Still, the shock penetrated his chest and caused him to skip a breath.
    “Congratulations,” he said, perforce.
    Icheb fidgeted as if he had done something wrong. “I'm sure it was just beginner's luck, sir. I'd offer you a rematch, but I'm due in astrometrics—”
    “Another time, perhaps.”
    Apparently eager for escape, Icheb exited with dispatch. Kim, however, quickly slid into the seat opposite Tuvok.
    “He may have to go,” Kim said, “but I'm free. And I'm feeling lucky!” He rubbed his hands together and contemplated the sparkling structure between them.
    Tuvok forced himself to inhale, then to breathe normally. The structure between them was the manifestation of random chance. It must be. There was no other—
    Deceit. Self-deceit.
    He stood quickly. “Excuse me, Ensign.”
    As he stepped abruptly for the door, Kim called, “It's only a game, Tuvok . . .”
    He went straight to the sickbay. His arms and legs seemed stiff, his joints aching. Tension could produce those repercussions.
    “Tuvok?” The Doctor met him near the door as if expecting him. “Self-diagnosing again?”
    “Doctor, you must examine me earlier than scheduled.”
    “I really don't think there's a reason to—”
    “I lost a round of
kal-toh.
To Icheb.”
    “Oh . . . please make yourself comfortable. I'll see to you immediately. Icheb's an exceptionally bright young man. Did it occur to you that he might simply be a better player?”
    The Doctor collected his medical tricorder from its recharge base and began to scan Tuvok even before he was completely settled.
    “My loss was the result of another lapse in concentration,” Tuvok told him.
    The tricorder murmured at his ear. Indeed it seemed several decibels louder than usual. He concluded that he was more sensitive than usual. The device could not be adjusted for volume. Thus it was he, himself, who was malfunctioning.
    “I
am
detecting lower neuropeptide levels,” the Doctor ultimately admitted.
    Tuvok did not meet the searching eyes of the hologram. “As I suspected. My condition's deteriorating.”
    “It's a minor change,” the Doctor said. “We knew it would happen. I simply need to increase your medication.”
    The Doctor was prone to understate critical problems. Tuvok knew that, yet also appreciated the attempt to comfort him in his concerns. There was no denied fact. The Doctor had no way to treat a Vulcan neurological defect on a long-term basis.
Voyager'
s medical files