Milestones - Spock

Milestones. There had been many in his life. But this one was different. This one was for him alone, much as he had stubbornly, blindly tried to convince himself over the years that the others had been as well.

It would be difficult. They would not understand – his parents, his betrothed, the Admissions Board at the Vulcan Science Academy – but this would be the first thing he had done in his entire life that was strictly for him alone.

He had always been different; from his earliest childhood recollections, he had been painfully aware of this inescapable truth. He had always walked the periphery, never quite able to cross the threshold into that exclusive members-only club which failed to grant him admission. He had never managed to fit in, had never been fully accepted, been welcomed by his peers, or by those adults who were ultimately responsible for shaping his future – supposedly wise and learned sages who proudly wrapped themselves in the tenets of IDIC as if they were a noble cloak of social dogma, without stopping to consider the actual significance behind the lofty words, or steadfastly applying them to ease the suffering of a lonely child.

His decision would hurt those closest to him, perhaps even cause a rift so wide no bridge would ever be able to span the diametrically opposed points of view once events were set into motion. It did not matter. All that mattered was that, for once, for the first time, in fact, he was being true to himself.

There were those who would view this as an act of cowardice; of someone who was running from that which he ultimately could not face.

Yes, he was running, but not away from his past, but rather toward his future – the future he wanted, had envisioned for himself.

He glanced down at the message on the monitor, skimming over the trivial, getting right to the heart of the matter: Accepted for the cadet class to begin in the fall of 2248, Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth. He had already reached his eighteenth year – the age of consent on Terra. Should he choose to pursue this life path, admission would not be contingent upon parental permission.

He considered his options carefully, for once the decision was made there would be no turning back.

Were he to remain here, on his father's world, there were those who, no matter what he achieved, no matter how he conducted himself, would be unable to look past what they perceived as the taint of his human heritage. His human half would forever remain a blight on his character, a black mark which would dog him throughout his life like a ravenous le'matya. It had taken eleven long, grueling, painful years to reach this conclusion, to have his eyes finally opened to the incontrovertible truth that, despite passing his kahs-wan on the first attempt where many of his peers had not, regardless of his many accomplishments since then, both personally and academically, his father's people would never be able to accept him as a true Vulcan.

Out of options and soon to be out of time, logically, the decision would have to be made based on what amounted to the best choice for him, personally.

There would be many avenues open to him, in a number of fields for which he had shown an aptitude should he pursue a career at the VSA as his father expected, but it was all theoretical knowledge. If he were to satisfy the curiosity that burned within him, a gift from his mother, and the last, most stubborn portion of his human half he had yet been able to master, or control, then Starfleet would be the most fulfilling route.

He would have a chance to put his scientific knowledge to use, personally experiencing the discoveries and breakthroughs that would be a by-product of being a pioneer on the last, infinitely vast frontier known to any sentient race – the ability to unravel first-hand the mysteries of the universe.

And on Earth, among human peers, he would be judged by how Vulcan they perceived him, not how human. In this steaming cauldron of humanity, overflowing with primitive wants, desires and emotions, he would show himself to be able to rise above all of it, despite being thrust directly into its midst. His ability to distance himself from these human weaknesses, to remain unaffected by them would prove once and for all – to himself at least if not to others – that he had completely mastered his human side, had effectively caged and corralled it, only allowing the outside world to see his Vulcan face.

His father would not understand, and his mother would be caught in the middle, forced to divide her allegiance between her husband and her son, but of everyone, he worried the least about her. She was human, after all, a most splendid example of the resilience inherent in her race, and he knew she would manage, and find a way to survive it.

His father was another matter. A dutiful Vulcan son was expected to follow in his father's footsteps, or at least follow the path chosen for him by the family patriarch. To break with tradition would be akin to turning his back on his father's advice, dismissing that vision of his future, and it would be interpreted by many on his home planet as irrefutable evidence that he had not excised his human half. But he could no longer think about that; could no longer live his life according to what others wanted, or expected of him.

He reread the response he had formulated:

To: Admiral Aguilar, Dean of Admissions, Starfleet Academy

From: Spock of Vulcan

Subject: Admission to cadet class of 2252

Admiral,

It is with great honor that I accept this billet you have graciously offered me. I look forward to the challenges which will be presented to me, both during my tenure as a midshipman, and as a future officer in the service of Starfleet and the Federation.

Most humbly,

Spock of Vulcan

Satisfied with the content, he hit 'send,' setting events into motion that would once and for all indelibly alter the course of his future.