Spock’s Departure

       
        PERSONAL LOG:S7703.29. My mother's illness, long undetected, has made my staying on Vulcan an unacceptable option. Henrichi's offer was timely, and that timeliness has made me suspicious. However, the idea of accepting this mission in exchange for a teaching position at Star Fleet when I return is attractive. Other considerations have been evaluated. For one, my friend and former captain, James Kirk, may join us. I would welcome the opportunity to clear his name. For another, I cannot face another cycle on Vulcan. Not with my mother in her present condition.
       
        Star Date: 7703.30...
       
        With a last look back, he went to inform his parents of his departure. It was not well received, but he had never thought it would be.
        Spock adjusted the hood of his traveling cloak and fastened the collar about his throat. His mother continued her pacing and complaining, determined to be heard. A short, dark-haired Earth woman, she was showing the effects of reclusion and advancing age. She continued to whine and berate her misfortune.
        “There just is no reason for you to go. You've only been here two years! Surely you have been happy here? After all these years, I had thought that you and your father had resolved your differences. I just don't understand why you are leaving.” Amanda had a tendency to over exaggerate her frustration with a great deal of arm waving waving whenever she thought she could get away with it. For some reason, she did not accord him the respect he, as a Vulcan male, merited. She did this simply because he was her son.
        “Mother, I am not leaving because of any problems here. I am going because there are things I need to do. There are problems I may be able to help solve.” Spock maintained a quiet controlled manner, a sharp contrast to the now distraught woman.
        “It isn't fair! It just isn't fair!” Her long robe swirled about the floor as she spun about to face him. Demanding.
        “To whom?” he remained impassive.
        “To me! Here I am alone all day, your father busy at his work... just as he has always been... but I always thought I would have grandchildren. I'm not getting any younger!” She was pouting. She turned to face him one last time.
        “I still don't understand why you have never married. You're not getting any younger either!” she taunted. This was her last defense, her last weapon. She was getting desperate as the time for him to go drew nearer. “If not T’Pring, then why not some other?”
        Spock was patient with her, as always. He had learned long ago to be the patient parent when she became the pouting child. But, scenes like this one, although understood, were still distressing.
        “Mother, I am a young man in terms of the Vulcan life span. There remain at least 60 years before I need to worry about becoming too old for a family! I have plenty of time to consider my future. I will have sufficient time to consider it when I return.” There were some things he thought best not to discuss with his mother.
        “If you return!” she snapped. On hearing her husband approach, she suddenly became quiet.
        “Father.” Spock nodded in greeting. Although they maintained civilities to each other, there was still something missing between them -- something never discussed. Even in this parting, Spock was aware of it. It was one of the reasons why he had accepted Star Fleet's request that he rejoin the Enterprise again, as her Science Officer. He had flatly refused their original offer to sign on as her Captain.
        Sarek reached out his hand to his distraught wife, his face showing the slightest trace of annoyance. She has been making another emotional display. Something he had observed with increasing frequency of late. His thoughts were broadcast to Thalos with an intensity that assured his son would hear then while his wife did not.
        “Forgive her Spock, she is more aware of time than we. Perhaps, if we had chosen to live nearer to other humans, it would be easier for her. As it is, your mother's frailties must be understood.”
        Spock nodded in agreement to the spoken words and the thoughts while his mother bit her lip to keep from losing control. He towered above his diminutive parents, his father, with the stature of a normal Vulcan male, and his mother, an average height for an Earth woman. His father didn’t enjoy looking up at him and Spock knew it.
        “I sympathize with her concern, but I do not share it.” Spock picked up the travel valise and checked its clasp. “The original mission assignment was for five years. I intend to complete it.”
        Sarek nodded in agreement.
        “And, now I must go. I would prefer it if you did not accompany me to the beam-up point. It would be tiring for all of us.”
        “Acknowledged.” Sarek squeezed Amanda's hand as she tried to speak again, a signal he had used to control her tendency to ignore the more sedate Vulcan way of life. Spock tended to compare it to the old style Japanese culture of Earth, with women much suppressed and the male as the ruling head of household. It was not the normal Vulcan way but it appeared to work for his parents.
        “Live long and prosper, Spock.” Sarek flashed the hand salute to his son.
        Spock returned it.
        “Peace and long life, Father. Mother.” Spock bowed to each of them, then turned and hurried away. Any further delay and his mother would not be kept silent. He desired no further words with her. He really had no answer to all the questions she had continually fired at him during this last stay on Vulcan.
        Spock felt relief to be on his way at last. Mentally, he had already switched gears from civilian to military man.
       
        # # # # # #
       
        He strode in military cadence down the walkway to the departure point. His black boots beating a steady purposeful rhythm, his cape fluttering gently in the heavy air. His hood fell back revealing his jet-black hair. His midnight-blue eyes returned to their normal coloration, the light green tinge on the edges receding. The years had left little change in his ruggedly handsome face.
        As he walked he let himself think back to another time when he had made this same march, to the same departure point. He had been a raw recruit. Then, as now, he had been seeking an escape from the situation at home. At that time he had ceased even civil conversation with his father. But now, they shared an unspoken concern for his mother's failing health. There was more understanding between them, this time.
        But the reason for the estrangement had never been resolved; it had been merely put aside. And, as he walked, Spock let himself dwell on it for the first time in years.
        “Identification check, Sir.” The security guard broke into his thoughts, held out his hand.
        “Spock, Star Fleet, assigned as Science Officer to the USS Enterprise.” As he spoke, he handed over the ID disk he carried, and locked out the past. He settled himself on the transporter station, retrieved his ID disk, and became, once more, the alert, unflappable, first officer.
       
        # # # # # #
       
        Beam up and check in completed, Spock eased his long frame into the confining seats of the shuttle's passenger section. The run was fast and short, and therefore neither cabins nor spacious recreation facilities were provided. In less than four hours ST they would rendezvous with the Enterprise.
        He pulled a miniature scanner from his travel pouch, set it on mediscan, and took a reading of himself.
        The device read-out winked its data at him at a speed that he had adjusted to suit his peculiar capabilities. The information was obviously disturbing. He frowned slightly, reconcealing the unit.
        Its happening sooner and with more intensity than I calculated... must control... reactions.. must stay calm.
        He clenched his fists tightly, then released them, repeating this several times, copying the tension -- relaxation pattern throughout the rest of his body. An old remedy, it helped but little. His body and mind were beginning to warn of him of impending demands. Had it really been seven years?
        “Everything all right, sir?” The steward was making a boarding check down the center aisle. Now he stopped and observed this alien passenger, the fierce continence so normal for Spock was intimidating the young steward, especially since the uniform bespoke a rank the younger man knew that he would never attain. He waited a good distance away, almost fearing a negative response to his routine inquiry.
        Spock started. He hadn’t noticed the steward’s approach. Must be more careful.
        “I am fine.” That he had not noticed his observer disturbed him.
        “Check your seat belt, sir, we leave orbit soon. We don't run as smooth as a star ship cruiser.” He paused as Spock reached to touch the tension controls on the seat restraints.
        “We expect some turbulence due to a magnetic storm in the sector we are routed through. Please remain seated until the lights indicate you may leave your seat.” His set speech finished, the steward scurried back to the next passenger.
        As the shuttle prepared for departure, Spock let his head rest on the padded seat back. It is done... I leave Vulcan knowing I may never return... I leave knowing I am in need... I wish only for peace.. I leave knowing I may find none where I am going.. but IT IS MY CHOICE... MINE.. I control.. I control..Kaiidth! Even death does not frighten me. I am Vulcan, I accept.
        His thoughts turned to more important matters. He was needed as Science Officer. He was needed to help piece back together the Enterprise, what had been the finest star cruiser. He was needed to function as a specialist, a technical and scientific genius ... not as what he might become ... not to do what his body would demand that he do, or die.
        He shuddered at the memory of the last time his body had made demands. Not T'pring, that had come to nothing. But the time afterward. When the needs he had suppressed had resurfaced. When he had been driven to seek a Hostel, the priest, the council representative. Unpledged, he had been assigned a partner. Under their control. There had been no child, of course. That, at least, was spared him.
        But the memory of his actions over the seven days had repelled him so that he had turned back to the rigid Vulcan disciplines. A discipline that he had hoped would remove the pain, but that had cut him off from the humans he had served with for so long, the ones he had learned to call his friends.
        Although unsuccessful in achieving a total suppression of his emotional reaction to the incident and unable to discount his human ancestry, he at least had come to terms with it, had let down a few of the barriers. He could reach out and acknowledge some of his feelings, without guilt. Until now.
        Now, faced with this new requirement, these new demands, he would flee Vulcan and die in space, rather than face another such nightmare in another hostel. The intrusion into his private space had never been forgotten. He was not a true telepath, not used to the intrusion and untrained in handling that part of the ritual. It frightened him to face it a second time.
        If he was lucky, he would have time to complete the greatest gift he could ever give the man he considered to be his closest friend, James T. Kirk, namely, a repaired Enterprise, a repaired reputation. The thought was the only one that pleased him.
        A sudden lurch interrupted his thoughts as the tiny shuttle blasted its way out of orbit and headed for the ship that Spock now considered to be quite possibly his final sanctuary.