Vulcan: linchpin member of the United Federation of Planets. Home to a civilization dedicated to o'thia, the ruling ethic of pure logic. But it was not always so; thousands of years before, Vulcans were a violent, warlike race, with tempers surpassed only by the planet's hot, arid sands. The philosopher Surak would show his people another way, teach them to reject their emotions and embrace logic and knowledge. The Vulcans would evolve and prosper, eventually exploring the stars and attaining further enlightenment as they encountered other cultures.
In the twenty-third century, Commander Spock, Captain Kirk, and the U.S.S. Enterprise are summoned to Vulcan when its people consider seceding from the Federation and returning to their isolationist ways. Vulcan's savage history becomes fully revealed as Spock, his father Sarek, and Kirk work to preserve the planet's future from anti-Terran factions with hidden agendas. The crisis is twofold for the half-human Spock -- should Vulcan secede, he will be required to resign from Starfleet and return home, or forever sever ties with his homeworld.
Years later, a decades-old plot to destroy the Federation from within forces Ambassador Sarek from the bedside of his dying wife, Amanda. The ambassador's decision widens the long-standing rift between himself and Spock at a time when they must pool their resources together. While the Enterprise crew contends with Romulans, Klingons, and the mysterious Freelans, Sarek's only comfort comes from reading Amanda's journals, which reveal more about his human spouse, his son, and himself than he ever realized.
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Pocket Books/Star Trek
December 06, 2004
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Adobe DRM EPUB
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Excerpt from Star Trek: Signature Edition: Sand and Stars by Diane Duane
The joke in Starfleet is that the only thing that can travel faster than warp 10 is news.
Of the many jokes told in Starfleet, this one at least seems true. For a Federation of hundreds of planets, spread sparse as comet-tail dust over thousands of light-years, news is lifeblood: without it, every world is as alone as if there was no other life, no other thought but its own. Few planets, these days, are so reclusive or paranoid as to want to be all alone in the dark, and thus the passage of news has covert priority even over the waging of wars and the making of fortunes. By subspace transmission (faster than warpspeeds, but not fleet enough), by pumped-phaser tachyon packet and shunt squirt, by compressed-continuum "sidestep" technology and sine avoidance, and (within solar systems) by broadcast carrier of all the kinds from radio through holotrans, the news of the many planets of the Federation and of planets outside it slides its way through and around and under and past the billions of miles and thousands of light-years.
The terrible distances take their toll of the passed-on word. Signals are corrupted by subspace noise, data is dropped out, translations are dubious or ambivalent: distance makes some pieces of news seem less urgent than they should, proximity makes other happenings seem more dire than they are. But no news passes unchanged, either by the silent spaces, or the noisy minds that cannot seem to live without it: and no news affects any two of those minds the same way.