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A Report on the Death of Engineer Olson

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Dear Mr. and Mrs. Olson,

It is with deepest and most sincere condolences that I write to you on the death of your son. You may be wondering why you are receiving this letter from a member of the Vulcan Science Directorate, and were I to receive something similar from a member of Starfleet, I would be equally puzzled, even with the recent loss my home planet, and many thousands of my brethren. However, this is not about those matters. This is about the loss of someone I unexpectedly came to greatly admire.

As you are no doubt aware, he was very nearly the opposite of what a typical Vulcan is willing to tolerate. Even his rather exaggerated attitudes concerning Romulans, well before the events that would directly concern him, his aggressive tendencies that would no doubt have had him looking for a fight even if there was none to be had, and no provocation, which a Vulcan might be expected to consider at least in some capacity, loathe as they would be to admit it, all of this made my association with your son extremely unlikely, as well as the strained ties between the Directorate and Starfleet in recent decades, despite Admiral Archer’s best efforts.

I do not mean digress, as I know you are not seeking many diversions at this point in time. I came to know your son as part of my efforts to make amends for certain actions I had taken in my youth, antagonizing the Earth ambassador’s son, with whom you may be familiar. It was an irony that in my attempt to purge myself of these negative experiences and their minor threat to my emotional well-being, that I first encountered him, in whom I experienced a powerful sense of regard.

I had challenged myself to visit Alpha Centauri, where an extensive human colony had once been home to Zephram Cochrane, and it was on this pilgrimage, where many experiments in warp theory are still practiced in homage, that I first came into contact with your son. His passion, his dedication, and his deep concentration were what intrigued me.

He seemed almost like a Vulcan, until I initiated a conversation. His true personality quickly became apparent. Yet I was still fascinated. I wanted to know how this was, how these two versions of your son could exist together, in this one contradictory form. It was almost as if he were an incarnation of the boy I had tormented.

I studied with him for weeks, at first reluctant to converse with him, content instead to observe, to study this curious human. Gradually, I saw how the pieces fit together, I understood the logic. In this one individual was a microcosm of all that Vulcans had taken centuries to reconcile about humanity, from the barbarians we thought Cochrane represented, to the restless Archer, and finally this James Kirk you may have heard of, the man who made sure that your son did not die in vain.

As I have come to understand it, his death was a matter of circumstance, a risk he was willing to take. If it is any comfort, I believe that to the very end, he was embracing life as fully as he ever had in the past, with the same passion he attacked the smallest part of an equation most others wouldn’t have taken for a second consideration. He was unique, and yet he aided me in my understanding that in infinite combinations there are infinite possibilities; that is to say, we are all human.

I hope in your grieving process, that you will remember this.


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ps i'm honored to have taught him how to skydive.

(Hope its ok to make a joke) :)

(Interesting take on it by the way)

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