Care Package
They loaded supplies today, at Starbase Nine, and Pavel Andreivich has received a package from his mother.
He is surprised by how emotional it makes him to see his name written in Cyrillic - her writing - and the efficient label printed by Starfleet, with his rank, his department, and the name of his ship. Looking at it, a little over-whelmed, he feels very young, and hopes no one sees him, and thinks it, too.
With sudden sympathy, he understands his Grandfather, who shared with him, so earnestly, legends from his youth of people collecting postage stamps: Those bright bits of paper affixed to packages that paid their way until they reached their destination.
And he is glad that this one arrived without those markings, instead bundled into a freight container with others all bound for this ship.
Chekov is grateful that this is one service that the Federation will perform willingly, not just for the crew, but for the families at Home missing their sons and daughters – and husbands, wives, parents, too.
He blinks and carries the package to his quarters. He knows he will ask later, and find out the route it had to travel all the way to the ship.
But, meanwhile, there is the package, and when he opens it, he laughs. Looking through it, he sees the absurdity in sending some of these things so far out into Space. But he is grateful.
And as the layers of things come out, he finds himself wishing, just the littlest bit, that it hadn't come – or, at least, hadn't been sent – because he finds himself feeling, just the littlest bit, like his mother's son too far out in Space.
He pictures her reading all of his messages, looking for clues for things to send that will bring him comfort, and remind him of home. Here, surrounding him on his bed, is the evidence of the care she has taken in reading his words, and in looking for the meaning behind what he's written.
He knows his Ϻама is proud of what her son has accomplished, that she learns everything she can about the journeys of this ship – and tells the stories, at home, to anyone who will listen.
She asks him questions about his friends, colleagues, officers: He is sure she does it to make sure that there is someone who will help look after her boy; but he answers because he is proud of what he does, and how he contributes. He is delighted by the friendships he has formed, and the family he has found here. And he is proud, too, of his friends, colleagues, officers.
So there are funny things, here, too from the stories he has told.
But when he gets to the bottom of the package, and takes the last things out, he is not laughing. He finds himself not just crying, but weeping without restraint – and he is glad that this package arrived.