ÿþ<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN"> <!-- saved from url=(0102)file://C:\WINDOWS\Local%20Settings\Temporary%20Internet%20Files\Content.IE5\6HZWXCRQ\End_of_Doubt.html --> <!-- saved from url=(0022)http://internet.e-mail --><HTML><HEAD><TITLE>End of Doubt</TITLE> <META http-equiv=Content-Type content="text/html; charset=unicode"> <STYLE>BODY { SCROLLBAR-FACE-COLOR: #ffffcc; SCROLLBAR-HIGHLIGHT-COLOR: #ffffcc; SCROLLBAR-SHADOW-COLOR: #006600; SCROLLBAR-3DLIGHT-COLOR: #006600; SCROLLBAR-ARROW-COLOR: #006600; SCROLLBAR-TRACK-COLOR: #ffffcc; SCROLLBAR-DARKSHADOW-COLOR: #006600 } </STYLE> <META content="MSHTML 6.00.2800.1141" name=GENERATOR></HEAD> <BODY text=#006600 vLink=#006600 aLink=#006600 bgColor=#ffffcc><FONT face=verdana size=4> <P align=center><FONT size=2>Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns the characters of this story. I am not doing this for money. I write fanfiction because I love  Star Trek: The Original Series and I hate how the new ST series  Enterprise tends to portray Vulcans in a very harsh light.</FONT></P> <CENTER> <TABLE width="92%"> <TBODY> <TR> <TD vAlign=top width=150>Rating:</TD> <TD>G <BR><BR></TD></TR> <TR> <TD vAlign=top width=150>Characters:</TD> <TD>Sarek, Spock <BR><BR></TD></TR> <TR> <TD vAlign=top width=150>Feedback:</TD> <TD><A href="mailto:jazzman_one@hotmail.com">jazzman_one@hotmail.com</A><BR><BR></TD></TR> <TR> <TD vAlign=top width=150>Archive:</TD> <TD>Please ask first.<BR><BR></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></CENTER><BR> <H2 align=center><B>End of Doubt</B></H2> <H3 align=center><A href="mailto:jazzman_one@hotmail.com">Seira</A></H3> <CENTER> <TABLE width="92%"><BR><B>Part I</B><BR><BR>It was a typical fall afternoon in San Francisco: refreshing breezes blowing in from the bay made the air feel especially chilly for the offworlders who come from desert worlds, a bit too cool even for the half-Human Vulcan Ambassador Spock. He was in his embassy office working on some important matters before departing that evening on the Diplomat Corp s shuttlecraft back to Vulcan. He had come to Earth to attend the memorial services for Dr. McCoy; it was held on the previous day. Although he had kept on a Vulcan face during the ceremony, deep inside he was feeling the loss of a close friend. He was quite surprised that it was akin to how he felt when he heard about Jim s death. He would have to meditate on those thoughts once on board the shuttlecraft. Interrupting his musings, his comm signaled an incoming call. He flicked the switch to accept the call. The face of an attractive brunette-haired human woman in her mid-40 s appeared. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.  How may I be of service, madam? <BR><BR>She spoke hesitantly and yet there was grim determination in her eyes.  I m sorry to disturb you Ambassador. My name is Madeline Newcomb. Your aide told me that you left orders not to be disturbed and asked me to leave a message but... She stopped to draw a deep breath.  But I told him that what I have to say is for you alone to hear. It concerns your father. <BR><BR>Both Spock s eyebrows disappeared into his bangs.  What is the matter that concerns my father, Miss Newcomb? His father died several years ago. The only solace he got for not being with his father when he died was Sarek s mind-meld with Captain Picard. Picard, in turn, had allowed Spock to mind-meld with him, sharing with him all the impressions and memories of Sarek s mind, a brilliant mind that was being cruelly ravaged by Bendii syndrome. It was a chaotic experience for Spock to have felt even just an echo of the rampaging and extreme emotions that Sarek went thru on his last mission. <BR><BR> My brother, Ki Mendrossen worked for Ambassador Sarek several years ago. The Ambassador entrusted him with a letter to be given to you after his death... Her voice trailed of. After taking another deep breath, she started to speak again.  My brother was in an accident a few days before your father died. It left him in a coma until he died 3 weeks ago. She swallowed and blinked back tears.  I found the letter for you when I was taking care of his estate. I m sorry that I took so long to notify you and I hope you ll understand why. <BR><BR> Undoubtedly. I grieve with thee, Miss Newcomb. Something about her was disturbingly familiar --- in the way she held on to her dignity despite the sadness in her eyes, the tears she was bravely holding back. It suddenly struck him why. She reminded him of Christine, she who had become his bondmate after the V Ger incident. She had drawn her last breath in his arms, dying of Bion s Disease at the age of 64. Spock pushed down the feelings of regret that he and Christine did not have a child together. She had become menopausal early into their marriage. On the other hand, he and Saavik had a lot of time to have children.  May I inquire on where the letter is now? <BR><BR> It's still in my brother s safe in his apartment where I am in temporary residence right now. It s nearby, Ambassador, about 20 minutes away by groundcar. You can send someone to pick it up now if you d like to. <BR><BR> Very well. Spock memorized the address she recited and he decided to send his trusted human aide to pick it up.  My human aide, JV, will be there in 30 minutes. I thank you, Miss Newcomb. It is regrettable to meet you under such circumstances. <BR><BR>She managed a sad smile and responded with,  I ve been told that your father is apt to reply that  one does not thank logic , but in this instance, you re welcome. It s only right for you to have a letter that was written for you. Although it s been years since it was meant to be read. <BR><BR>Spock nodded his agreement and then he raised his right hand in the Vulcan ta al and said,  Live long and prosper, Miss Newcomb. <BR><BR> Peace and long life to you, Ambassador. With that, she cut off the connection. <BR><BR>Spock commed JV and gave him his instructions. Forming his hands into a steeple, he pondered on what the letter was for. He knew that Amanda loved to receive real letters from Sarek. Why would his father write a letter to him? Letting out a sigh, he decided to concentrate instead on finishing his work, knowing that the answers to his question would be at hand soon.<BR><BR>About an hour later, JV delivered the letter to his office. It was in a slim, black-colored 7x11x1 inch legal packet. He looked at the backlit display. <BR><BR> <CENTER> <TBODY></TBODY></TABLE> <TABLE width=350> <TBODY> <TR> <TD bgColor=#121212><FONT color=#00ff7f size=2><BR>&nbsp;FROM: Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan<BR>&nbsp;RECIPIENT: Spock cha Sarek<BR>&nbsp;CONTENT: 1 Personal Letter<BR><BR></FONT></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></CENTER> <CENTER> <TABLE width="92%"><BR> <P align=justify>It could only be opened with a DNA scan of either one of the living recipient s hands. It was the most expensive and foolproof method for storing important documents or disks. Tampering with it would destroy the things stored inside it, and neither would it be fooled by scanning into it a dead recipient s hand. Raising an eyebrow at the precaution Sarek undertook to preserve the letter for his eyes alone, Spock was about to lay his right hand on the scanner when a knock on the door interrupted him.  Enter. <BR><BR> S Haile, the shuttlecraft will be ready for departure in 15 minutes. <BR><BR>Mentally sighing, he said,  I will be ready to leave from here in 5 minutes. <BR><BR> As you wish, S Haile. <BR><BR>He spent the time he allotted himself by making sure that he closed the files he was working on, packing the padds, data disks, and his father s letter into an attaché case whose locking device was similar to the legal packet s design. His valet had already taken care of his personal effects and had no doubt sent them ahead to be loaded into the shuttlecraft.<BR><BR><BR><B>Part II</B><BR><BR>Spock set down the attaché case on the workdesk of his cabin in the shuttlecraft. He opened the case and pulled out the packet, cradling it in his hands. Making up his mind to open it before his curiosity consumed him, he recorded a message on his comm unit that he did not wish to be disturbed until the next day s mid-meal. After he made himself comfortable in his seat, he laid his right hand against the packet's scanner. A few seconds later and with a slight hiss, the lid popped open slowly. Unconsciously taking a deep breath, Spock took out the crème-colored envelope. The front was embossed with Sarek s name, official title, the Shi Kahr Vulcan Embassy address, and then written in black ink was Sarek s elegant Federation Standard longhand:<BR><BR> <P align=center><FONT face="Baskerville old face" color=black size=4><I>To My Son, Spock</I></FONT></P>Turning it over, he saw that it was not sealed so he lifted up the flap and took out the folded letter from inside it. It was the same color as the envelope, but it was made of finer material. He carefully unfolded the letter; there were 2 pages written in Sarek s handwriting. The date on it gave him a surprise. It was written the day after the Babel Conference was over. It meant that Sarek wrote it while he and Amanda were on their way back to Vulcan on the <I>U.S.S. Aguilar</I>. Spock's eyes widened in amazement. A letter from more than a hundred years ago. It was written a few days after they started to speak to each other again as father and son. It was like a time capsule that had kept safe Sarek's thoughts and only when the writer was dead would its recipient be able to read its contents. Steeling himself mentally, Spock began to read his father's letter.<BR><BR> <CENTER> <TBODY></TBODY></TABLE> <TABLE borderColor=black cellSpacing=20 cellPadding=12 width=785 bgColor=#ffff99 border=2> <TBODY> <TR> <TD><FONT face="Baskerville old face" color=black size=4><I>Stardate XXXX.XX<BR><BR><BR>Spockam, <BR><BR>The only reason you are reading this letter is because my katra is already in the Ancient Hall of Thought at Mount Seleya. No doubt that there are still some things you are wondering about. I know you were surprised when I came out of retirement to accept the Babel assignment. I did that when I learned that the Enterprise was the starship that would be conveying the delegates to the conference site. Any other Vulcan ambassador could have done the job in a satisfactory manner, but no other Vulcan ambassador has a son who is assigned to the Enterprise. As your mother would say, it was my way to  make things right and end the estrangement between us.<BR><BR>My son, you have achieved so much in your chosen career and I am proud of you; I have always been proud of you. I have done the things that I have done because I know how important it is for you to know that your accomplishments came from your own endeavors. Spockam, I gave you the freedom to do that when I declared you k'torr'skann. Did you really think that Starfleet would accept the application of an 18-year-old Vulcan citizen? While that is the age of emancipation for Terrans, you must have forgotten what the emancipation age is for Vulcans. Logic dictates that you forgot about that detail because you were busy preparing to debate with me. You did not see in my expression my satisfaction at the way you stood up to me when you gave me your reasons for wanting to join Starfleet instead of the Vulcan Science Academy. But you were the son of an ambassador and the heir to Surak s line, and I, as your father and legal guardian, had to give my consent to enable your acceptance into Starfleet. I signed those documents but sent along with it a statement that you do so without the approval of your clan and my declaration that you are k'torr'skann. Having done that, in their eyes you were cut off from your family and were no longer bound by duties to your clan. It freed you to earn any merits on your own just as it freed me from anyone trying to curry favor because of your being in Starfleet. It also kept you safe from anyone who had any thoughts of using you as collateral for kidnapping and ransom since I made it appear that I already disowned you. Would you not agree now that the cause was sufficient? <BR></I></FONT></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></CENTER><BR> <CENTER> <TABLE borderColor=black cellSpacing=20 cellPadding=12 width=785 bgColor=#ffff99 border=2> <TBODY> <TR> <TD><FONT face="Baskerville old face" color=black size=4><I>I do, however, ask for your understanding of my reason for bonding you at the age of 7 in accordance to Vulcan customs. Since you had chosen the Vulcan way after passing the kahs-wan, I only thought at that time that to bond you with a full-blooded Vulcan would be the logical thing to do. <BR><BR>You have forged the way for any other Vulcan-Human hybrids; the sum is indeed greater than any of its parts. You have always been a fighter, my son. You were born prematurely and you had to fight for every breath you took; each day was a battle for your life. You fought and survived insurmountable odds that surprised many Vulcan healers; they thought it was logically impossible for you to live beyond the time they calculated you would. I was secretly pleased to see the looks of shock on their faces when you surpassed their calculations and started to thrive. <BR><BR>I firmly believe that Starfleet is but a part of all that is yet to be experienced in your life. The meaning of your name is not a fluke; your best destiny is yet to come. I will not, as humans are wont to do,  wish you luck in your endeavors. Instead, I would like you to go on with the knowledge that even as I declared you k'torr'skann when you left to attend Starfleet Academy, I also drew legal documents contradicting my declaration, thereby making you an emancipated Vulcan minor and the legal heir to Surak s line and the sole heir to all of my properties. They will be passed on to you in the same manner that I inherited them from your grandfather. <BR><BR>Spockam, know too that my regard for you as a father to his son has never diminished and never will be, regardless of the choices you have made and will make over the years. Logic dictates that this letter should end any doubts you have... <BR><BR><BR>Live long and prosper, my son.<BR><FONT size=5>S</FONT>arek <BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR></I></FONT></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE></CENTER> <CENTER> <TABLE width="92%"><BR> <P align=justify>Spock stared at the letter while his heart filled in the rest of Sarek s last sentence before signing off. * <I>Logic dictates that this letter should end any doubts you have</I> <U>about your father s love for you</U>. * <BR><BR>The papers were refolded gently, placed back into the envelope and resealed into the packet. He had decided to let Saavik read it before storing it in a place that is safe, away from prying eyes. He stood up to walk over to the viewport, looking out at the stars as the shuttlecraft warped by them. If anyone could have seen him they would think that the Ambassador was entranced by the stars. In a way, he was, but in a very different way.<BR><BR>Spock finally stirred, sparing a momentary look at the workdesk where his father s letter was back safe in its packet. He whispered in a tone only loud enough for a Vulcan to hear.  Shaya tonat, Sa-mekh. Shaya tonat. <BR><BR>Looking out once more thru the viewport, he started remembering some things about the people he had loved and cared about. Those who are now gone: Jim, who had also loved looking at the stars from the <I>Enterprise</I> s viewdeck; McCoy, who had an illogical hatred for transporters and how his acerbic tongue camouflaged the compassionate healer that he was; Scotty, who had a somewhat foolish predilection for treating the ship s engines as if they were his children; Leila, who could not have him when they were in college and how she later on tricked him with the Omicron Ceti III spores so they could be lovers; Zarabeth, who has long been dead and whose frozen body was returned to its sub-atomic particles by his own hand which fired the phaser and how his primal feelings for her were first caused by his regression to the state of his violent and emotional Vulcan ancestors; Zar, who was his son with Zarabeth and now dead too in the ice age of a planet that no longer exists; Christine, who loved outdoor picnics that go over well into the evening when they could just lay back and look up at the stars which she likened to diamonds scattered against black velvet cloth.<BR><BR>His sad eyes light up upon his remembrance of the woman who had equally loved both of his halves. V Ger almost destroyed Earth but it also opened his eyes to the possibility of a life of love with Christine. He had been using his bond to T Pring as an excuse for not returning her feelings for him, even as he desired her to be his bondmate a few months before he suffered his first <I>pon farr</I>. He became uncomfortable at the memory of his throwing against a bulkhead the <I>plomik</I> soup she had made for him. He did it in order to drive her away from his overwhelming lust for her due to <I>plaktow</I>. An eyebrow rose in irony. **Maybe that s the real reason why she took her own sweet time in saying yes to my bonding proposal.** Then she had stood by and waited for him to remember his bond with her after the <I>fal-tor-pan</I>. Thinking of her brought to his mind the bond between his parents. Theirs was a love that was truly unique to have bridged the gap between two different worlds. He was the living proof. And any child sired by him and Saavik would also be a bridge to link a third different world. Spock gave himself a mental shake. **It is time I stop being sentimental, as McCoy would have teased me. I should meditate now.** <BR><BR>He turned and was about to walk back into his living quarters when a thought occurred to him. He faced the viewport once more and intoned,  Safe journey to all of you --- my friends, lovers, my son, father and mother, and to you Christine, my <I>t hy la</I>. He resolutely turned away from the viewport, but there was something different now in the way he felt about everything, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his soul.</P><BR> <P align=center><I>Fin</I></P><BR> <TBODY></TBODY></TABLE></CENTER></FONT></CENTER></CENTER></BODY></HTML>