Long range Vulcan shuttle Solthar at high warp

2365

Sarek allowed himself a small sigh and closed his eyes. He had not slept since they left orbit, and knew that fatigue would soon demand it, whether he wanted to or not. He knew, though, that he would sleep well; he always slept better aboard ship than he did when planetside, even when he was at his home on Vulcan. There was something soothing about the soft sounds and vibrations of a ship at warp, and he looked forward to a good night's rest.

He was aware that there was nothing to be gained by exhausting himself further, as he had plenty of time ahead to rest. His destination was still three weeks away, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about that. Old habits tended to die hard, however, and he had not been able to resist further contemplating the situation he now found himself in. It was a situation that invited much contemplation, to say the least.

He stood and walked to the wall mounted replicator. Rank had its privileges, and he had programmed the settings on this replicator himself. It was one of the few luxuries he permitted himself during long journeys. He withdrew a mug of steaming tea, much too hot to drink, but that was the whole idea. He enjoyed the tea well enough, but it was the heat from the mug he desired most. He had developed a form of arthritis in his hands, and this brought a welcome relief, if only for a few moments.

He sat quietly and let the heat soak into his hands. His hearing was not what it once was, but it was still far more acute than the average human's. He could faintly hear the muted tones of a conversation in the adjacent compartment and the soft footfalls of someone passing through the corridor. His compartment was one of the few that had a viewport, and he could see the starfield outside, distorted, of course, by the warp field.

Sometimes he reflected on his lifetime of service and wondered how many hours he had spent like this: in transit to a conference or summit halfway across the galaxy. Years, probably. As a relatively young man in the Vulcan Diplomatic Corps, he had often found himself impatient to begin the coming negotiations and inwardly frustrated at the time it took to travel there. Now he looked upon such delays as a welcome respite, a chance to meditate and reflect upon a lifetime of memories.

He thought of Amanda, always patiently waiting at home, always so glad to see him when he returned. How odd it was that two people so vastly different in every way had been able to form the bond that they had, and that it had lasted for so many years.

He thought also, of course, of Spock. There were many times his son had been a disappointment, and the path his son had taken was perhaps his greatest regret. Though often emotional (far too much so for a Vulcan, he thought, but he was Amanda's son as well, and there was much of her in him), the boy's keen intelligence had been impossible to deny. He had shown much promise, and would have undoubtedly been outstanding had he taken the offered position at the Vulcan Science Academy, but it was not to be.

It had been a long time since he and his son had last spoken. He knew that Spock was on the Enterprise, but he had no idea where the vessel was. Spock dutifully and regularly communicated with his mother, of course (though not as often as she would have liked), but he tended to reveal few details. He assured her that he was fine, eating properly, and in general good health, and she had to be content with that.

The Vulcans that Sarek worked with regularly at the Diplomatic Corps politely and deliberately did not inquire about his son, and that was fine with him. It was not a subject he preferred to discuss, and inwardly a constant source of embarrassment. He knew, of course, that his colleagues did not see him as responsible for the actions of his son; they were aware of Spock's mixed heritage, and that the human element was, of course, to blame.

Though he had never admitted it to anyone, there had been times early in Spock's life that Sarek had contemplated the possibility that his son's human half might actually be of some benefit when he reached adulthood. Had Spock chosen to follow his father into diplomacy, his heritage might have allowed him a unique advantage in negotiations: the logic of a Vulcan, coupled with the human ability to see things from an emotional perspective.

All too soon, however, it became obvious that Spock was terribly handicapped by the inherent flaws of his humanity. Emotional outbursts at a young age and conflicts with other boys at school were all telltale signs of a bleak future at best. Sarek had done his best, but there was really no precedent for this, and he had gradually left the parenting of Spock to Amanda.

Hope had again flared briefly as Spock had matured, and Sarek had called in more than a few favors to get Spock a prestigious appointment to the Vulcan Science Academy, but Spock had politely but firmly refused it. No one had ever turned down such an appointment, and he himself had never thought it possible to feel as much shame as he had that day. Choosing instead a career in Starfleet had been even more of a disappointment, but at least it had gotten Spock off planet, to their mutual relief.

Sarek had, of course, had his fair share of interaction with Starfleet personnel, and he had come to respect the Federation, as much for its idealism as anything else. He had repeatedly encountered situations where the Federation had taken a course of action simply because it was believed it was the right thing to do, whether it benefited the Federation or not. In his experience, this was most definitely the exception rather than the rule in the diplomatic arena. Often their actions were heavily influenced by emotions, yet they managed most of the time to maintain a logical perspective.

The situation he was currently involved in went far beyond any areas he had experience in. That he had been dispatched at all to attempt to resolve this was, in his opinion, a less than prudent one. The parties involved would be unlikely to give his counsel much consideration. He was revered for his ability to mediate tense situations, but those were largely diplomatic issues. The one he now raced toward was much more than that. Klingons were not, as a rule, overly concerned with diplomacy, nor were they particularly fond of what they considered the Federation's meddling in their affairs. These factors, however, were not the problem. He was used to dealing with such things and did not consider them a particularly challenging obstacle.

The problem was simple-the Federation had chosen to involve the Romulan Star Empire in the current debacle. Upon being informed of this, the Klingon military ambassador mediating the situation had turned a remarkable shade of purple, and it was the only time Sarek could recall observing a Klingon that was actually speechless. This, he knew, was not a good sign. The ambassador had then drawn his communicator from his belt and roared three unintelligible words, at which point he had been beamed directly out of the council chamber. He beamed directly to his flagship, which almost immediately departed the system at full impulse. This was a gross violation of diplomatic niceties, (not to mention security protocols), and foretold of ominous developments to come back on QuuonoS. Sarek recalled an ancient Earth expression Amanda had once used –"What I would give to be a fly on the wall…"

At the time, he had not immediately understood it. Why would anyone wish to be such an insect? Then she had explained it, and its meaning became clear. The thought of it (and of her) brought the faintest wisp of a smile to his face. Indeed, he would dearly have liked to have heard the conversations in the Klingon High Council once the ambassador had reported to his superiors.

Generally speaking, the Klingons despised the Federation and its ideology. Diplomacy and the seeking of peaceful resolutions to conflicts and disputes were incomprehensible to the Klingon mindset. They scoffed at it and laughed at the cowardice they perceived in the actions of Federation captains. They openly boasted of the great victories they would certainly attain if they were ever to find themselves in battle with the Federation.

That said, there was no hatred for the Federation as a whole, just incomprehension. Romulans, however, were a very different matter. Mention the Romulans to a Klingon and you could see it on his face-the narrowing of the eyes, the teeth bared in a snarl, the clenched fists, every muscle tensed and taught like a drawn bowstring.

This negotiation would indeed be an interesting one, to say the least...