Spock had just arrived at the gathering, a first-night welcoming reception for the conference guests. Hosted at the Vulcan Science Academy’s main campus outside of Shi’Kahr, and cosponsored by the VSA and the Federation Science Council, the symposium had been organized for the purposes of highlighting current scientific trends, sharing new research, and discussing how best to disseminate and further such knowledge throughout the Federation. To those ends, both scientists and diplomats from across the Federation and beyond had been invited to attend.
Spock knew that, for his mother’s sake, he must speak with his parents. During the past year, since he’d completed his Kolinahr training, he had only seldom visited or even talked with Amanda. After she had displayed her disappointment in the choice that he’d made for his life, he had apologized for having hurt her, though not for the path he had taken. His mother had ostensibly forgiven him, but their relationship had never recovered to what it had been prior to his Kolinahr—nor did he expect it to, given the circumstances. Still, Amanda did contact him from time to time, and Spock visited his parents’ home occasionally to dine with them. More often, Sarek came on his own to T’Paal to share a midday meal with Spock. At this point, though, he hadn’t had any contact with either one of his parents for more than a month.
After a while, the people arrayed around Sarek and Amanda broke into smaller groups and the couple headed away, crossing the hall to one of several buffet tables. Spock immediately paced through the crowd after them, arriving beside them as they each picked up a dish and began selecting food for themselves. “Mother,” Spock said. “Father.”
“Spock,” Amanda said, looking up. She smiled, but in a way that could not totally hide the sadness she obviously still felt for her son. “We thought you might be here.”
“No doubt, you are here representing the academy,” Sarek said.
“Of course,” Spock said. “A number of VSA researchers are here.”
“Are you well?” his mother asked.
“I am,” Spock said. “And you?”
“Oh, we’re fine,” Amanda said. “I’ve got a little bursitis these days—” She flexed her right shoulder, wincing as she did so. “—that I need to have Doctor Soji take a look at, but otherwise we’re doing well.”
“What is the status of your research these days, my son?” Sarek asked.
“It is proceeding slowly of late,” Spock said. “As you know, I have achieved theoretical results since I began at the academy, but I have recently encountered difficulties in attempting work on practical applications.”
“You find the work challenging then?” Amanda asked.
“Yes, I do,” Spock said. He noticed, not for the first time, the pains his mother took to inquire about his life in ways that did not presuppose an emotional component; she had asked if he found his research challenging, for example, but not how he liked it. “And you, Father, how is your work progressing?” Spock said. “Do you have any upcoming ambassadorial missions scheduled?”
“Yes,” Sarek said. “Next month, your mother and I will be traveling to the world of Verdanis, where I am to meet with the leader of the Terratins. You are familiar with the colony, are you not?”
“Yes, I am,” Spock said. “A group of humans settled on a planet orbiting the star Cepheus, where spiroid epsilon waves contracted their molecular structure, reducing their physical size to approximately three-twentieths of a centimeter. The mutation impacted their DNA and became permanent with subsequent generations. When their planet was threatened by extreme volcanic activity, the crew of the Enterprise—of which I was a part—transplanted their entire city to Verdanis.” Spock did not find a need to mention that the Enterprise crew themselves, for a brief time, had also been reduced in size. “I’m curious,” he said. “How do you intend to interface with the Terratins?”
“It is my understanding,” Sarek said, “that they have constructed large—by their standards, gargantuan—accommodations for visitors to their world. In those facilities, they have also created sophisticated holographic communications equipment that will provide a means of interacting with them in a virtual way.”
“Ingenious,” Spock said. “And a logical solution to the practical issue of their relations with beings so much larger than they are.”
“It’s also better than the other alternative they offered,” Amanda said. “They told your father that they could reduce him to their size, although I think they were joking.”
“It is possible that they were not,” Spock said. “When the—”
“Ambassador Sarek, Lady Amanda,” a voice interjected loudly from directly behind them. They all turned—Spock’s parents still holding partially filled plates of food—to see a portly Bolian clad in a many-colored tunic. To Spock’s surprise, he clamped a hand onto the shoulders of both Sarek and Amanda. “I was hoping I’d get to see the two of you here.”
“Ambassador Feliq,” Amanda said at once. “How very nice to see you again.”
“Ambassador, welcome to Vulcan,” Sarek said with a bow of his head. “May I present our son, Spock.”
“Spock,” the ambassador blustered, and he took his hand from Amanda’s shoulder and slapped it onto his. “Wonderful to meet you. Diplomat or scientist? Or are you just raiding the party to see your parents?”
“I am a researcher in temporal physics with the Vulcan Science Academy,” Spock said.
“Temporal physics, eh?” Feliq said. “Are you sure you have time for that?” The ambassador threw back his head and guffawed, his cartilaginous tongue protruding from his mouth. When he settled back down, he said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your family reunion—”
“Not at all,” Spock said, perceiving a means of withdrawing gracefully. “I was going to seek out some of the other guests.” He bowed his head in deference to Feliq, then backed away, sliding his shoulder from beneath the ambassador’s hand. As he turned and started across the reception hall, he heard his mother ask after the Bolian’s wife and co-husband, but Feliq’s response was lost to the purr of the other conversations all around.
Spock crossed to the far corner of the room, where he ordered a cup of spice tea from a server. Once he’d received it, he took a place against the wall and surveyed the large assemblage. He had not misled Ambassador Feliq when he’d told him that he wanted to look for other guests. Spock knew that the eminent Deltan quantum physicist Laujes had accepted an invitation to the conference, as had Saurian temporal theorist Ziresk Chot. Spock wished to meet and speak with both of them.
As he peered about the crowd, he saw two people, by appearances human, walking in his direction. Tall and dignified, the woman had short, spiky red hair and wore an elegant, calf-length black dress. The man, slightly shorter, had dark brown hair, cropped short, and wore a tuxedo. Both appeared human, though Spock recognized neither one of them. Nevertheless, they both strode directly up to him.
“Spock,” the woman said in a soft, familiar way, and he identified the owner of the voice at once: Alexandra Tremontaine. He had not seen her in five years, since she had located him at the Port of Los Angeles when he’d been on his way back to Vulcan.
“Ambassador,” Spock said. “Forgive me, I did not recognize you.”
“Quite all right,” she said. “It’s been a few years.” Glancing over to the man, she said, “This is Doctor Senofsky, professor of microbiology at Cambridge University, and more importantly, my escort for this evening.”
“How do you do, Mister Spock,” Senofsky said, raising his hand and politely offering a Vulcan greeting. Spock returned the gesture.
“Welcome to the Science Academy,” he said.
“Spock… Spock…” Senofsky said. “Your name sounds familiar to me. May I ask what field you’re in?”
“Currently, I am conducting research in temporal physics,” Spock said.
“Hmmm,” Senofsky said. “That doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Perhaps you would’ve been able to place him,” Alexandra said,
one side of her mouth curling upward, “if Spock had mentioned that he’d also traveled back in time to the twentieth century to bring a pair of humpback whales into the present.”
A look of realization appeared on Senofsky’s face. “Of course,” he said. “Forgive me for not remembering your name.”
“It is of no consequence,” Spock said.
“Maybe not to you,” Senofsky said, “but I and several billion other people owe you our lives.”
“I did merely what the situation called for,” Spock said.
“You’re too modest, sir,” Senofsky said. “Thank you.” Spock acknowledged the doctor with a nod.
“What are you drinking?” Alexandra asked, pointing at Spock’s cup.
“Spice tea,” he replied. “It is of Vulcan origin.”
“Not quite what I had in mind,” she said. “Vulcan port sounds more like it.” She turned to Dr. Senofsky. “Would you mind getting me a glass?”
“I’d be happy to,” he said, and then he looked to Spock. “If you’ll excuse me.” Again, Spock nodded, and Senofsky started away. Alexandra watched him go.
“He’s a good man,” she said, clearly referring to Senofsky. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.” She turned back to face Spock. “He’s not the one, though. We have a nice relationship, but we just don’t have that connection.” She held up her hands before her and folded her fingers together, obviously attempting to illustrate her point.
Spock did not know how he should react, so he said nothing.
“You’ve changed,” Alexandra said, a statement of fact that did not seem intended as an indictment. “I can tell.”
“I have changed,” Spock agreed. “I have completed the Kolinahr.”
“Yes, I can see that,” she said. “I suppose it would be foolish of me to ask if you’re happy now.”
“You would simply be asking a question to which you already know the answer,” he told her.
“Of course,” she said calmly. “What would the logical equivalent be?”
Spock sensed a pain that Alexandra did not show, and he wondered if their link still endured. Whether he could actually discern her thoughts or because he simply understood her, he thought he perceived what she wanted to know. “I am living the life I wanted to live,” he said. “I am satisfied by my work, and through the Kolinahr, I secured a peace within me that I had never before known.”
Alexandra seemed to think about this for few moments, and then she unexpectedly smiled. “I’m pleased for you, Spock,” she said. “Truly. Once, you allowed me a glimpse of the tumult within you. That you’ve managed to find peace… I’m really happy for you.”
“Thank you,” Spock said. He no longer possessed any emotions for Alexandra, but he could still note how uncommon she was.
“Well, I’d better go find my date,” she said. “I’m sure you and I will be running into each other during the course of the conference.” She turned and left.
Two weeks later, the symposium concluded, but in all that time, Spock did not see Alexandra again.
Twenty-Six
2311
Amanda walked through the house, headed for the communications panel in the niche at the rear of the great room. Though still early in the day, she intended to contact Spock. She normally wouldn’t attempt to reach him so early in the day, but her new plans would see her departing Vulcan later this morning, and she wanted to speak with him before she left.
As she reached the recess that housed the comm equipment, Amanda felt a pang of sorrow, as she still did from time to time when it came to her son. Most days, she tried to tell herself that her sadness stemmed from seeing less of him now, when he resided on Vulcan, than she had when he’d traveled the galaxy. She’d been making that claim, out loud and in her own head, for years now, ever since her son had returned to his home planet. Spock had always disputed her claim, missing the point that even she knew that her protestations held no water. But after Spock had completed his Kolinahr, their relationship had changed—for her, in a deeply painful way. In that regard, her assertion rang true: she saw less of her son now than previously, because without feelings, he had less to show her.
On her worst days, Amanda accepted that the Spock she had known for the first six decades of his life no longer existed. On her best, she clung to the notion that, Kolinahr training or no, the son she had raised into a man still lived within the emotionless shell he had cultivated. Regardless, she had striven, particularly in the last five or six years, to put aside her feelings—a distinctly Vulcan tactic—and improve her relationship with Spock. She had been successful, for the most part, and in the months when she and Sarek spent time at home on Vulcan, Spock had begun to visit them more often.
As Amanda sat down before the monitor, she worried about her son. For almost a decade and a half, since his return from the Akrelt Refuge, he had lived a mostly solitary life. He avowed that his research satisfied him, and she knew he believed that, but she wanted something more for him. Illogical, she knew, but true anyway.
She keyed in the sequence to reach Spock at his apartment. The screen blinked to life, displaying the logo of the Vulcan comnet. She waited while an indicator light confirmed the attempted connection. After just a moment, the screen flashed again, and this time, the image of her son appeared.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said. Behind him, she could see on his small table a half-eaten plate of what looked liked gespar. Clearly she’d interrupted his morning meal.
“Good morning, Spock,” Amanda said. “I’m sorry to be contacting you so early, but I didn’t want to disturb you at the academy. Do you have time to talk?”
“I will be leaving for my office shortly,” Spock said, “but I have time to speak with you now.”
“Good,” Amanda said, “because I wanted to share the good news with you before I left Vulcan.”
“Is everything all right?” Spock asked. He spoke, as always, in a monotone and with an unchanging expression. Often, when Amanda found herself feeling down about her son’s unemotional life, it had been Spock’s wholly dispassionate manner that had provoked such a reaction. Now, she simply ignored it, focusing instead on her own excitement.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” she said. “Better than that, actually. I learned late last night that the Primrose Gallery in Paris has agreed to exhibit my latest artwork.”
“That is a noteworthy accomplishment,” Spock said, betraying no sign that he actually thought so, other than via the content of his words. “When will this take place?”
“The show will open in a little over two weeks,” she said, “which means that I barely have enough time to pack up all of my work, transport it to Earth, and arrange its display. That’s why I’m leaving in a few hours.”
“Will Father be with you?” Spock asked.
“No,” Amanda said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. “He’s committed to hosting a delegation from Catulla here on Vulcan for two of the first three weeks that my exhibition will be running.”
“Will he be joining you for the final week?” Spock asked.
“No, because he’s got another commitment then,” Amanda told him. “And that’s the second reason I wanted to talk with you before I left. The day after I return from Earth is my birthday, and I’ve convinced your father that we should celebrate it with a party. After the Catullans leave and before I arrive home, he’ll be preparing for it.”
“A birthday party,” Spock said. His impassive manner made it sound either as though he’d never before heard of such a concept, or as though he wanted nothing to do with it.
“Yes, a birthday party, and I want you to be there,” Amanda told him. “I know it’s not a Vulcan tradition, but since I’m going to be one hundred, I wanted to do it anyway. Honestly, Spock, with all the time you spent in Starfleet and among humans, you must be at least familiar with birthday parties.”
“I am, Mother,” Spock said, “although it has been some time now sin
ce I have participated in one.”
“You don’t really have to participate,” Amanda said, “other than to show up at the house and wish me a happy birthday.”
Spock paused for only an instant, in which time Amanda assumed that he weighed all of the factors relevant to his attendance at her party. Vulcans did not typically celebrate birthdays, and especially not with parties. There would be many people there, some of them nonhuman and emotional, necessitating unwanted interactions for Spock. The event would fundamentally be a waste of his time, which he could instead be devoting to his research. He would balance all of that, and probably more, against just one fact: his mother wanted him to attend.
Even on Vulcan, Amanda thought, that calculus should add up in only one way. In the next second, Spock confirmed that it did.
“I will be there, Mother,” he said.
“Thank you, Spock,” she said. “That will be the best present I could possibly receive.” An awkward silence followed, as often happened between them. As usual, Amanda forced her way through it. “Well, that’s all. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Mother,” Spock said, and he seemed to search for the right words. “I hope that your exhibition is a success.” With the effort it required of Spock to decide what to say, and with the detachment evident in his tone and on his face, his wish actually hurt her more than it heartened her.
At least he chose to make the effort, Amanda told herself. “Thank you, Spock,” she said. She reached for the controls and ended their connection. The ensign of the Vulcan comnet appeared again, and then the screen went blank.
Amanda sat at the comm equipment for a few moments, staring at the empty monitor. In her mind, though, she saw neither the display nor the image of her son on it. Instead, she saw Spock at the age of five, coming home from school and trying so desperately to hide the pain he felt at having his classmates deem him not truly Vulcan. She had cried for him back then, understanding the depth of his wounds. He no longer experienced those hard, hard emotions, and that of course pleased Amanda. But it also saddened her, because she knew that her son would also never again experience the reverse: love and joy and all those sentiments that brightened life.
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