Star Trek: The Original Series - 162 - Shadow of the Machine by Scott Harrison Page B

looking to help, did not enter Spock’s head.
    “Good morning, Mother,” Spock said, announcing himself. “I am surprised to find you up so early. I hope my own inability to sleep didn’t disturb you.”
    Amanda smiled. “Were you unable to sleep? I didn’t notice. I often come out onto the terrace. I like to catch the dawn.”
    “Indeed. The suns rising in the northern hemisphere can be most illuminating at this time of year,” Spock said.
    Amanda giggled, causing Spock to raise an eyebrow.
    “Did I say something amusing?” he asked.
    “Oh, come on, Spock. Sunrise can be ‘most illuminating’: Are you telling me you didn’t mean that as a joke?”
    He thought carefully about his words for a moment, then shook his head. “It was not meant to be a witticism. However, I can see how a double meaning could be extrapolated from the statement.”
    This time Amanda laughed long and hard, causing her son to stare at her in puzzlement for several minutes.
    “Oh, Spock, how I’ve missed you.” She patted the bench beside her. “Please, sit with me awhile.”
    Spock did as he was bidden. Amanda sipped her tea, surreptitiously studying her son.
    “Mother, may I ask you a question?” Spock asked tentatively.
    “Of course,” she told him. “You don’t need my permission. I am your mother, not your superior officer.”
    She was teasing, of course, but, as usual, it passed by Spock unnoticed.
    “You said that you have missed me.”
    “That is correct,” Amanda agreed.
    “The implication being that there has been no other adverse effects by my sudden absence,” said Spock.
    “None that spring immediately to mind,” Amanda said. “Is there anything specific you are referring to?”
    There was a slight pause, as though Spock were steeling himself. “Do you consider my abandonment of Kolinahr to be an embarrassment?”
    Suddenly Amanda turned and faced her son.
    “Oh, Spock, no,” she said tenderly. “There is nothing you could do that would be an embarrassment to me. You are my son, and I am fiercely proud of you.”
    For a moment, Spock appeared unable to speak, as though her words had moved him deeply. Then he cleared his throat, and the moment was gone.
    “If I recall correctly, it was the same when I was a boy,” he told her. “You were always the one who told me that I should be proud of my Vulcan and human heritage. I was unique, that the other boys were merely . . . envious. I always felt that my father was disappointed in me, that he would have preferred a son who was wholly Vulcan.”
    “That’s simply not true. Your father has always been proud of you, even if he hasn’t said so. It’s true that your father and I see things differently, from time to time, but that is true of any marriage.” Amanda regarded her son carefully, then said, “What are you asking me, Spock?”
    “If you had ever seen something, experienced something, that had made you question everything you believed in, everything that you had spent your whole life striving to be: Would that mean that your life had been meaningless, wasted even?”
    The question was preposterous, illogical. Spock knew it before it had even left his lips; as such he expected his mother to instantly dismiss it. Yet Amanda considered her son’s words carefully before she answered him.
    “I remember a six-year-old boy, who was so sick of being bullied by the other boys at school, and so determined to make his father proud of him, he decided to prove that he was Vulcan by becoming a Kir’Shara scholar. The fact that one had to be ten years old to take the exam didn’t faze this little boy. He was so bright and resolute, he believed he would pass the test and be the youngest scholar ever admitted to study the Kir’Shara. The master was a kind and gentle man, and when he heard that the little boy wanted to become a scholar, to show that he was truly Vulcan, he allowed him to take the test.”
    Spock raised an eyebrow. “I fail to see the