I think you can guess why I wrote this.

Spock Kid

“Hold my hand now, Spock. It’s just a little farther, but you don’t want to get separated.”

Spock let Mother take his hand as they walked through the throng of others that had arrived before them and with them. He had not expected it to be so crowded. The push on his mental shields of those around him was daunting.

Mother paused to read an electronic sign, her hand tightening on his hand almost painfully. She reached up, absently, to tuck a strand of loose hair back into the scarf she wore to cover her hair.

“I just need to see where we should be going.”

Fear, grief, anxiety, trepidation, it all hit him hard and at once. His face crumbled for a moment as he felt his shields falter.

“M-Mother.”

She looked down at him. “Oh, Spock. I know, sweetheart. I am trying to be quick.”

They’d been evacuated from Vulcan. Forced to leave their home due to the ever growing crisis of war too near. They would join his father, Sarek, an ambassador to Earth. Where they would make their new home, presumably, at least temporarily.

“Here we are. Let’s go.”

Mother moved quickly now, practically dragging Spock through the crowded area with other refugees of the war torn planets.

She pulled him up to a man, stationed at some kind of kiosk.

“Your papers, please.”

“I am Amanda Grayson. My husband is—”

“Lady, I don’t care who your husband is. I need your papers.”

“I don’t have any papers, sir. My husband is the Vulcan ambassador to Earth. His name is Sarek. He said to just tell you that.”

The man stared at her. Shook his head. “Sorry. You have to have papers to go beyond this point.”

“But my husband—”

“I told you, I don’t care about your husband. No one’s left any such instructions with me. So if you can’t show me papers you’re going to have to step aside and let the next come through.”

Mother bit her lip. Spock could feel her dismay through their contact. But she did step to the side.

It was only a few minutes later that an official looking human male came toward them.

“Ma’am, you’re to come with me.”

Mother smiled in relief. “Then you will take me to my husband?”

“Eventually, sure. But first we need to get some information from you. “He gestured to a woman who hurried over. “Take this Vulcan boy.”

“Wait. What? My son comes with me.”

“I’m afraid not. He’s got to go to another area where refugee children are kept.”

“We-we can’t be separated.”

“I’m very sorry.” He pulled Spock’s hand from Mother’s and pushed him toward the woman. “Take the kid. Put him with the others.”

“Mother—”

“Spock! No. I don’t want to go with you. I’ll go with my son.”

“That’s not possible, Ma’am. Come with us. Your son will be fine. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Mother! Mother!”

“No. Spock. No. Let me with my son.”

Spock watched as Mother was dragged away by the man and through a door which closed after them. His heart sank.

“Come little boy.” The woman grabbed his arm in a grip that was surprisingly strong for a human and pulled him in the opposite direction from his mother and down a very long and deserted corridor. At the end was a door, which she opened after scanning her hand over a screen.

She pushed Spock in. He noticed there were hundreds of children. Some older, some younger than himself. Of many races.

“There’s another one,” the woman said to a man standing near the front. And then she turned and left, leaving Spock standing before this man.

“Name?”

Spock stared at him. His shields faltering again.

“Name?”

He looked around at the strange faces, some pale, some dark, all with wide frightened eyes.

“Name!” the man shouted.

“I am Spock.”

The man entered something and then flicked his head toward the other children. “Join the others. And don’t make any trouble or you’ll be sorry.”

“I want to go home.”

“Then you should have stayed there in the first place. Scram.”

Spock walked away and saw not a single friendly face. But he now knew where the emotions that had battering him had come from.

And he was frightened himself. So very frightened.

He felt a hand brush his arm. He looked down to see a younger blond boy, dirty and battered, thin, gaunt, and with the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

“Hello. I’m Jim.”