The steady hum spread from the tips of his toes to the ends of his fingers. His meditation was disturbed as the passenger ship vibrated into life. He looked up from his folded hands and saw his home recede into the inky black of space. Spock wasn’t sure what he felt at seeing the only place he knew face into nothingness. There was a twinge of sadness at the idea of never returning, but there was an equally potent, if not stronger feeling of relief. He would no longer have to endure the tedious attempts of his peers to make him show his emotions. Remembering what his mother had said, he searched for a facial expression that would accurately express his conflicting emotions. His mother’s face appeared in his mind. The sad smile she had given him upon his greeting. His lips parted in his attempt to portray his thoughts. As he saw his faint reflection in the ‘porthole’ he was surprised at how natural it appeared. He turned around to face his mother, the smile growing larger every second, along with hers.
/ / / / / / / /
That smile. That absolute break-away from every custom he knew. Her half-Vulcan son was smiling at her, clearly telling her about every emotion in his head. It was a sight to behold, a true, Vulcan smile. Sarek had smiled once. Once. The memory of it was so precious, even before…
It had happened on the day that they had discovered that Amanda was successfully pregnant. The occasion also fell on their tenth wedding anniversary, whether Vulcans celebrated anniversaries or not. As soon as they had arrived in the privacy of their home he had taken Amanda in his arms, kissed her, and smiled. He had told her that he loved her that night. Of course he had said it the Vulcan way, Taluhk nash-veh k’dular (I cherish thee), but he had never said it the Human way. That was one of the most special moments of her life, paralleled by when she had met Sarek, their wedding/bonding day and Spock’s birth.
She reached down and pulled Spock to her, surrounding him in an embrace, conscious of the emotions seeping through their touch. She focused her thoughts on how much she loved this small miracle in her arms, and how much she had loved, still did love, his father. Waves of love and appreciation came back at her, overcoming her weak, human shields. She gazed down at her son who held her gaze, a quiet confidence shining in his eyes. As if having read her thoughts, which he may well have done, he spoke, “ko-mekh, taluhk nash-veh k’dular. Mummy, I love you” and wrapped his arms around her neck, holding her even tighter.
Her thoughts turned back to her own experiences, and how she had fared, first on Earth, and subsequently, Vulcan. On Earth, she had been accepted, as a general rule, but would Spock have the same privilege? Would his life be more like hers upon her move to Vulcan, where, despite the philosophy of IDIC (Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations) there had been some degree of social exclusion and condescension? She hoped that he would be able to be unconditionally accepted by his peers, but somehow she knew that not everyone would understand. Sometimes, school children are the worst at adapting to change. She knew that her son’s Vulcan appearance would no doubt make matters more difficult, as he would stand out more than any others in his year group. Perhaps she would enrol him in an inter-species school, where he would be more likely to find others in similar situations. If he were surrounded by those who would physically out-shine him, such as Andorians, his ears and eyebrows would be much less conspicuous. However, amongst other species Vulcans were considered to have superior intellect, and Spock himself was thought of as a genius, having already passed some of the Vulcan Science Academy pre-entrance exams. He would need to have special treatment due to him already knowing the entire sixth grade syllabus.
The musings changed direction, towards Starfleet. Could Starfleet provide the stimulus that Spock clearly needed? It didn’t mean that he’d have to go to the Academy. Or into space. No, she couldn’t deal with that. He could just attend some of the classes on physics, maths, xenolinguistics and so on. Their education facilities were renowned throughout the galaxy. She would do everything in her power to ensure the best education for her obviously gifted son, no matter the cost.
Where would they live? Would they stay in San Francisco, where Starfleet Headquarters was located; or would they move to New Chicago, her birthplace? If Spock were to have tuition from Starfleet, it would be best to remain in San Francisco. Well, that was one eventuality. There was family in New Boston, but did she want to see family, who would surely treat her with sympathy and regret. Vulcans were much better for her grief at the time; they wouldn’t show any false emotions, or any emotions full stop. She could be strong around Vulcans; it was Humans who were difficult. It would all work out, it always did. Didn’t it?
Her mind abruptly stopped its downward spiral as her son looked up, locking her gaze, said, “Mother, you think too much,” and returned to nuzzling his head in her jumper. She smiled. What a Human thing to say. “You said it not me, dear one,” she stated, happy in the knowledge that her son could flip her mood so easily. Confusion showed in Spock’s face, “That was clear, ko-mekh, I am aware that I said it, I consciously instigated the action.” Amanda could almost hear his brain whirring, trying to understand her completely illogical, human colloquialisms. She sighed, and began to explain herself, “All I meant, was that you should take responsibility for your words, as they were so un-Vulcan. It’s not a bad thing,” she consoled as his eyes grew concerned, followed by embarrassed, “it interrupted the dark thoughts beginning to cloud my judgement. Thank-you kan-bu.” Spock appeared visibly relieved, his shoulders slumping where they had been tense. He smiled again, this time with less sadness, and kissed her cheek. He squeezed her once more, and straightened. He attempted to supress a yawn, but his lips parted in what Amanda could only describe as an adorable ‘o’ shape. “Bed-time for you, Mister Spock!” She said, poking him half-heartedly in the ribs. He squirmed, obviously ticklish, and replied, “Ma’am,” in a dead-pan, standing to attention and raising his hand in a salute. He about-turned, marched off into his bedroom, and shut the door with a quiet click. She sighed, surprised at how relaxed she had become, and slid off the cushy armchair she was sat on. She drifted into her bedroom, closing the door and laying on the bed, still fully clothed. She floated to sleep, comforted by the dreams of family that glided in from her subconscious.