Letters II

Compiled and Edited by: CyberMum
Written by the Voyager Season 7.5 Writing Staff

To: Janeway, Kathryn M., Capt./C.O./USS Voyager
Via: Project Pathfinder
From: Thev, Daeja, Cmdr./JAG/StftAcdy/
Section 001/Earth/San Francisco
Stardate: 54652.3

*Narejah*, Kathryn!

What a surprise your letter was! Of course, I already knew that you are alive after all - simply on the other side of the galaxy - but knowing the limitations on communications, I was astonished that you would use precious data space for a letter to your old roommate, especially considering our last conversation. I'm only sorry it has taken so long for me to reply, but as you can tell from the heading, I'm no longer on Andor and your letter caught up with me only last week.

Ah, our last conversation. I told you that you could take my pips and shove them "where the moon don't shine." (Great Hunter, but I love Human idiom - so much more vivid than our rather direct Andorian phrases.) Well, I did resign and go home to teach for a while but the Dominion War changed that. I couldn't sit at home when the Federation was under attack. Nothing we Andorians love more than a good fight, and the Jem H'dar were good fighters. The uniform fit better the second time, and I'm still here. So, I'm at the Academy now - in the History Department, although this semester I also got stuck (another lovely idiom) with Introduction to Political Science for the plebes.

I can hear you laughing now. Political Science! I haven't forgotten what you said when we were raw cadets and you found out you had to take that course. "How dare they call politics a science? It's all a game." You were right, you know. Politics is a game, but just like tennis and velocity, there is a real science behind it. You have to know the rules and the strategies to succeed. As I recall, you eventually earned a top grade in that class. Hope you don't need a refresher from me!

You and your crew are quite the topic around HQ these days. Actually, I gather you have been for years. They tell me that when you first disappeared so mysteriously, speculation was rampant. There were those who wrote you off for dead, and those who thought you'd been hijacked and abducted by the Cardassians or the Romulans. There were even those who contended that you'd been recruited by the Maquis. Most of these were people who claimed to know you, although I do not think you would call them friend.

As time passed, the talk faded; the fighting with the Klingons and then the Dominion began, and everyone's attention shifted. Shifted. There's a revealing choice of words. Fighting shape-shifters is as much a matter of psychological warfare as it is physical combat. It erodes trust and creates paranoia. Shapeshifters infiltrated the Klingon High Council and the Admiralty, did you know that? A lot of civil liberties were suspended in the name of Federation security; blood tests to prove identity became routine, travel was restricted and even confidential mail was routinely screened by Intelligence. The war is over and they assure us that things have more or less returned to normal, except that the mindset of suspicion and power are hard to shake. It seems our ability to trust the way we did before has been forever compromised. There are persistent rumors that surveillance continues.

I can hear you again. What did *you* think, Dae - I can hear you plainly. Were you one of those who thought I was dead, or did you think I'd joined the Maquis? Then you give that snort you reserve for topics that are too ridiculous even for laughter. But stop and think. The idea that you might be willing to join the Maquis was not entirely far-fetched. After all, your distrust of the Cardassians was well known and you made it clear that your support for the Treaty was limited to the dictates of duty and no more. HQ is filled with people willing to see a conspiracy around every corner. I knew better. Oh, you might have decided to join the Maquis cause, but you would never have deserted to do so. You would have formally resigned your commission first - Starfleet is bred in you too finely for anything else. So, even though it would have been comforting to think of you alive and raiding Cardassian supply depots, I was among those who believed you dead, because I could not imagine an enemy taking you without a fight. And I admit to you, that I was never happier to be proven wrong about something than when word came of Voyager's adventure in the Delta quadrant. Word around HQ now is that you've granted field commissions to all your Maquis crew and that you're pushing for confirmation of their rank. You surprise me. You were always so politically correct, the perfect Starfleet officer. There are still people in HQ who think of the Maquis as criminals. Not everyone, of course, but enough wearing four or more pips to make a good noise. (Ah. That's an Andorian idiom. Make of it what you will). Even those who don't want to punish them criminally don't trust them enough to welcome them back into our sacred brotherhood. Some of the Maquis who were captured during the War have been granted parole, but on the conditions that they do not seek reinstatement to Starfleet or pursue government office. A lot of them have returned to their homeworlds to join the rebuilding efforts - the peace agreement returned the Maquis worlds to the Federation - but some have gone to Andor, where good fighters are always appreciated.

The fate of your Equinox refugees is a little more certain. From what I hear, Ransom and his crew violated the Prime Directive, the Seldonis Convention and Order 010 and Starfleet cannot sweep that under the floor. The carpet? No matter. Whenever Voyager returns to the Alpha Quadrant, they will face some formal action, possibly a full court-martial, no matter how exemplary their behavior under your command.

I've got to go; there's a plebe waiting for his appointment; he seems to be constitutionally incapable of understanding the causes of the Axanar Conflict and thinks I may be able to provide a revelation. He's from someplace called Brooklyn and has an amazing ability to speak in colorful and obscure Terran idioms. "Tarred with the same brush" I understand (it's almost Andorian in its imagery) but "cooking your own goose" seems redundant to me. What else would you do with a goose?

Always your friend,

Daeja

Janeway powered down the PADD and placed it carefully on her desk. She stood, picked up her rapidly cooling cup of coffee and took a quick sip. "So," she thought, as she made her way over to the sofa on the upper level of her ready room, "Dae is worried."

She sat down and settled herself into a comfortable position, turning slightly sideways so that she was able to gaze through the portal at the shimmering stars slipping by into the velvet black of Delta Quadrant space.

Daeja Thev was someone whose opinion Kathryn Janeway valued greatly. Dae had always been able to see things clearly - sift through the grit - she called it. They had had some wonderful debates during the year they shared quarters. And Kathryn had learned a lot from her. She had written to her in part because she knew that Dae kept her ears open (another succinct Andorian phrase); because although she still denied it vehemently, Dae Thev was at home and well versed in the machinations of the highest echelons of the Federation; and most importantly, because she missed her old friend - her wit, her warmth and her canny insights into how to play those political games to which she had referred in her letter.

Janeway had known from the beginning that she would not have an easy time of it once she got Voyager and her crew back to the Alpha Quadrant. Although her conversations with Star Fleet had been more than cordial since they'd opened communications with home, she was well aware of the underlying questions that simmered underneath Admiral Paris' and his team's inquiries about life on Voyager. There had been one or two pointed inquiries about certain crewmembers - the Equinox Five in particular.

There was much to think about here.

Janeway sighed and turned once again to gaze out at the stars.