Lessons
Professor Solberg watched the young Vulcan working with uncanny speed at the computer. At first the professor had resented him but after a few weeks exposure to the exceptional standard of Spock's work, Solberg had overcome his prejudices. He began to take an interest in the boy. In some ways he empathised with Spock. Considered a genius in his own youth, Solberg knew some of the problems the Vulcan faced. Isolated by his own cleverness, he had made few friends and his own university life on Deneva had been a difficult one. What further hardships must Spock face due to his alien nature?
The boy had no social skills. He spoke in terse sentences and was abrupt with his peers. He was aloof and, at times, downright rude yet to the teaching staff's surprise this had earned him little resentment. Perhaps the other students were in awe of someone who could run rings around their lecturers. There was no doubt that the boy was in a class of his own, and although respectful to his teachers and other adults his superior and cold manner left much to be desired. No one knew how to deal with him. His advisor, Dr Lee Wang, had confided to Solberg that their meeting had been difficult. Solberg had not been surprised. Lee was an adequate computer specialist and a pleasant enough person but he had an inflated opinion of his own skills. When faced with a student who appeared to know more about computers than he did, his reaction had been less than professional.
Spock's mind immediately grasped new concepts. He had soon left the 3rd year students far behind and some of his tutors, like Wang, struggled to keep up with him. Solberg had discussed Spock's sub-dimensional warp physics paper with him and had been so impressed that he had approved a team of researchers to work on the theory. The boy spent many of his evenings in the lab, adding to and correcting the computer programs and breaking new ground. Solberg started to work with him, becoming so engrossed that he sometimes forgot that his associate was so young.
"Spock, have you any problems?" he asked.
The Vulcan replied without looking up. "There are indications that errors were made in sub-routine 221. I am attempting to rectify them."
Solberg sat down beside him. The screen changed so fast that it blurred. "I've never seen anyone work at your speed. The computer will blow up at this rate."
Spock looked over at him with one eyebrow raised. "I assure you, sir, that I shall stay within the computer's limitations."
"I was only joking," Solberg said.
"Humour is a concept which I find difficult to understand."
Solberg sighed. In the past he had met some Vulcan scientists who had not understood humour either. There were so many unknowns about Vulcans and Spock was just as unforthcoming as others of his species were. Solberg settled back and clasped his hands together. How do I know the right questions to ask?
He spoke aloud. "It might be possible to arrange something with the VSA for you. We have good relations with them, little as it is."
"If I am to work in Starfleet, it would be logical to use standard equipment." Spock hesitated before continuing, "I have isolated a glitch in the memory core which is the probable cause of the intermittent system failures. I could eradicate this. Sir, with your permission I could upgrade the existing lab computer network. There are also other improvements which could be made."
As Spock listed them, Solberg scratched at his head. This was the most the youngster had ever said to him and the ramifications were too much to take in. Had he imagined a trace of eagerness in Spock's normally bland expression and modulated tone? Somehow he did not think so. "Young man, it would take at least an A6 computer expert to do that. Only Starfleet Science Division, some high level Federation research facilities or a major starbase would have that kind of specialist in their ranks. Even Dr Wang is only an A5."
"I am capable, sir. On Vulcan I gained a Level 10 grade in computer programming. That is the Vulcan equivalent of Federation A6 rating."
"My god! Are you telling me that you - a boy - have an A6 rating? It takes years of study and practical experience."
"I have been using computers since I was three years old, sir," Spock replied as if that should explain it.
Solberg wiped his forehead. He would need to call a faculty meeting as soon as possible.
This boy required special treatment. It was necessary to go over his VSA records again and discuss further how best to teach him. The standard courses were inadequate. "I'll think about it, Mr Spock. In the meantime please continue with your work." He paused. "Don't you ever relax?"
"I am quite relaxed, sir."
"You don't mix socially with the other students."
Spock bowed his head. "I find human methods of recreation to be illogical, sir."
"What about non-humans? Is there nothing amongst their pursuits which appeal to you?"
"No, sir."
Solberg felt a stab of pity for the Vulcan so alone in an environment that was alien to him. Why had he broken tradition and come here? Whatever the reasons Solberg resolved to help the boy. "All right, Spock," he said. "Let's see these errors you found."
***
"Get into line," Lt Commander Woolf barked at the group of science college students. He was about to teach self-defence and physical training to these youngsters. All brain and not enough brawn, he thought. In his year as an Academy fitness trainer, he had never drawn the scientists before. Why couldn't he have taught the command students this semester or better still - the security boys. Instead he had been given the scientists - the worst lot on the campus. A colleague had warned him that, even after two years of training, this group was useless.
"Even scientists need to learn to defend themselves and others," his commander had said.
Weaklings. Girls. All of them, he had thought. He did not care for training the female cadets either but tried to keep those feelings to himself. In this climate of equality for all, it was not a popular view to hold.
These scientists were a motley bunch wearing gym shorts and vests, shuffling from one foot to another as he, all two metres of muscle, stared down at them. His gaze travelled from one to the other and alighted on the scrawny form of the first Vulcan in Starfleet. The kid whose first two years had been waived. The boy wore a one-piece body suit, accepted clothing but rarely worn indoors. Woolf sneered. None of the security boys would have been seen dead in such an outfit. It seemed to accentuate how underdeveloped the alien was, his thin arms and legs like some stick figure. The boy stood in a slouch and Woolf shook his head in disgust. He had met Vulcan dignitaries before and had disliked their superior attitude. He could not understand Command's preoccupation with them and their hotter-than-hell planet.
Let's see what he's made of. He glanced at his list. "You, Cadet Spock."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"
"Don't slouch, boy."
The Vulcan stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked up as Woolf walked towards him. "Yes, sir."
Woolf stared at him. There was not a great deal of difference in their heights and that surprised the instructor. The boy's eyes met his and the intensity of that gaze sent a shiver through him. He ignored it. No boy was going to intimidate him. "So, Mr Spock. I hear you're a regular genius. Have you taken physical education before?" He glanced at the other students. All stood at attention but he knew that they were following everything.
"Yes, sir." The Vulcan's words were clipped.
"I don't think so. Dancing maybe." He eyed the one-piece suit with derision.
"Indeed, sir. All Vulcan children study dance. It is an important discipline which teaches balance and grace."
There was a splutter of amusement from the others. "Silence," he roared. "Well you'll find that dancing won't help you stand down a Klingon. You can't rely on Security to bail you out of every situation. You all need to be able to defend yourselves. Do you agree, Mr Spock?"
"Indeed, sir. It is logical that all personnel be proficient in unarmed combat."
"Good, then you'll help me with this little demonstration." He beckoned the Vulcan over onto the centre mat. Spock hesitated. "Get over here," Woolf ordered. He would take the arrogant alien down a peg or two.
Spock complied and waited with long arms hanging loosely by his sides as Woolf walked behind him and grinned over the sleek black head at the others. "I'm a Klingon enemy." He grabbed the Vulcan round the throat in a tight stranglehold. With a sudden powerful jerk, which took his breath away, he was lifted off his feet and sent flying through the air. He yelled as he landed on the far side of the mat with a hefty thud.
Laughter filled the gymnasium. Woolf sat up stunned. The Vulcan was standing at parade rest, as skinny as the proverbial rake. How had he thrown an experienced combat officer, a man almost twice his weight across the room? Woolf staggered to his feet. "Quiet," he yelled.
The silence could almost be cut with a knife. Woolf, his equilibrium almost restored, strode over to the boy. "How did you do that?" he demanded.
"A Vulcan unarmed combat move, sir. I regret if I have injured you. I was not expecting your attack and reacted automatically. I ask forgiveness."
"What!" Woolf was still a little in shock. "You don't ask an enemy's forgiveness."
"Are you an enemy, sir?" Spock asked. His head was tilted to one side as he studied Woolf with an intent stare.
There was more laughter from the onlookers. Woolf ignored them. "Of course not. I'm your trainer. I'm here to keep you alive against hostile aliens."
"I understand, sir. However I must advise you that I am stronger than a human."
"You can't hurt me, boy. Okay, let's see how strong you are. We'll arm wrestle."
"I do not understand, sir."
Woolf sighed and as he explained it the Vulcan stepped back. "What is it, boy. Scared of this muscle?" He flexed his arms and heard gasps from some of the onlookers.
"I cannot, sir."
"You will obey me," Woolf said.
"It is impossible." The Vulcan's expression was unnerving.
"Insubordination, huh? I won't tolerate that," Woolf threatened, waiting for the Vulcan to back down. All these science nerds did. Worse than the female command students.
"No, sir, not insubordination. Starfleet regulations - article fifty-three - section 2A. Under normal circumstances a telepath may not be forced into any activity which will cause harm or distress to himself or to others."
Woolf's mouth opened and closed again in futile rage. "A telepath! You're a telepath?"
"I am a touch telepath, sir," the boy said with that maddening coolness of his. "I would not wish to breach your privacy. If our hands were clasped then I would receive your emotions and perhaps some of your thoughts. I regret that my controls are insufficient to exclude them."
Woolf shivered. Damn alien freak. How was he meant to deal with such a creature?
"Right, go back in line." He took a deep breath and faced the students. "We'll do some exercises now. Let's see how fit you really are."
They dropped out one by one until only the Vulcan remained. Woolf could see the admiration on their faces and yelled. "Stop."
Spock jumped to his feet. The Vulcan wasn't even breaking sweat!
Woolf was aware that some aliens were stronger than humans were but he had never seen anything like this from such a skinny youngster. What power did a mature Vulcan possess? "Okay. Time's up. Next session - we begin to train properly. I'll test you on the assault course. Maybe one time I'll team you up with a command group." He chuckled at their groans. He would train them like he did the security boys. There was no excuse for them to be weaklings.
The weary students trooped out to the showers. Spock followed behind them his keen hearing picking up their comments on the lesson and his own part in it. To Spock's dismay the facilities were communal. He wondered if it would be possible to forego his shower but a chorus of voices called his name and he could see no way out. Drawing an air of calm about him, he stripped off and entered. The water felt cold and he shivered.
One of the boys noting this asked, "Are you all right?"
"The temperature is of insufficient warmth for me," he responded.
"Jeez, its burning!" the boy exclaimed. He pointed over to a showerhead at the far end. "Use that one."
Spock nodded and within moments had increased the temperature to a more comfortable degree. It refreshed him. Water showers were a novelty to him but he found himself beginning to appreciate them. The drying jets were pleasantly warm and he lingered for a time before emerging. His classmates surrounded him.
"You sure shocked old Woolf," said Sam Danziger, a blond haired boy from the Martian colony. "He's got the worst reputation in the Academy. He bullies kids who don't measure up. I'll never forget the sight of him flying across the room."
"Excuse me," Spock said and brushed by them to reach his clothes.
"He made life hell for my sister in engineering college," said Pierre Nyangoma, a stocky young man whose speciality was meteorology. "I'm glad you bested him. He needs to have his nose rubbed in the dirt."
Spock did not understand the expression and did not answer. He dressed in silence, aware of their curiosity but forcing himself not to reprimand them on their ignorance. His mother had told him something of human curiosity with alien life. It was simpler to ignore them.
***