Episode 05 VS 7 Point 5: Letters Chapter 2, a startrek: voyager fanfic

Letters Concept by Rick Edited and compiled by Cybermum Written by: Voyager Season 7.5 writing staff

From: Chakotay, First Officer, U.S.S. Voyager NCC-74656 To: Maya Lupes CMO Dorvan Medical Center Router Heading: Sector 047; Dorvan V Colony 276478341 Stardate 54382.4

Personal and Confidential

Dearest Maya -

Hello, Little Sister. I was relieved and delighted when I received Teren's message in the last data stream that you are alive and well. After hearing of the slaughter of the Maquis, I was afraid to hope that you had somehow managed to survive. But you were always Father's favorite, so perhaps he watched over you during those difficult times.

Congratulations on your marriage; I'm certain your Esteban is an honorable man. Teren tells me that he is from our mother's home planet Trebus, and shares your gift for healing. I hope one day I will have the pleasure of welcoming him to the family in person. And if the Spirits are willing, you will begin another generation to carry on your work.

Have I told you how proud I am that you are a doctor? You had mentioned years ago wanting to find a way to undo the damage done to Dorvan V by the Cardassians. Your ultimate goal was to return home and rebuild the colony. Given the destruction of our home world, I did not think there would be anything to return to. But your descriptions of the efforts to rebuild Dorvan V are certainly encouraging. The new villages being created and the growing population would seem to indicate that our people may yet rise from the ashes and restore the life that was stolen from us by the Cardassians.

I can only imagine the questions you have about what transpired six years ago, and how I wound up on a Federation starship in the Delta Quadrant. Perhaps the simplest way to tell the tale would be to start at the beginning.

By now you have most certainly heard the story of the mysterious disappearance in the Badlands of both my vessel the Freedom as well as Voyager. Of all the outcomes I imagined for my fate in the Maquis, being transported to the opposite end of the galaxy by an unknown alien was not among them. The Sky Spirits must have been on my side that day, however, as aside from some minor damage to the ship and a slightly battered crew, I escaped the transport with no casualties. Unfortunately, Voyager's crew was not as lucky, and almost a third of the officers on board were killed in the transition from the Alpha Quadrant. It was this loss that prompted Captain Janeway to make the decision to integrate the Maquis into her crew. My surprise at her offer to join our crews was only surpassed when she requested that I accept the position of her First Officer. With the lack of alternatives, I agreed. I had sacrificed my own ship to protect Voyager, and spending my time on the bridge of a Federation ship was certainly preferable to spending it in the brig.

It wasn't easy at first, for any of us. The Maquis were resentful at having to wear uniforms that represented everything we had been fighting against, and the Starfleet personnel were mourning the loss of their crewmates. There was suspicion and mistrust; nerves were frayed and tempers flared. And Captain Janeway and I were having difficulty getting past the issues of "your crew vs. my crew" when protocol issues arose. But as time passed, we gradually began to put the past behind us and pose a united front for the crew. Eventually a friendship grew from our forced professional alliance, and it has grown into the most amazing relationship I have ever known.

It's hard to describe my feelings for Kathryn. From enemies to allies and now best friends, she and I have had more than our fair share of hurdles to overcome. I respect her more than anyone I've ever known. She's intelligent, brave, inquisitive and beautiful. She has made me alternately both the happiest and angriest I have ever been, and I have never regretted my decision to follow her. And yes, I was in love with her, for a time. On some level I still am, but it has changed over the years, as have Kathryn and I. Blind adoration has tempered into silent appreciation and deep affection, a more mature type of emotion than the near worship I initially felt. A little older and a great deal wiser, I understand now that an intimate relationship with Kathryn would not have survived some of the storms we have weathered. Yet I am honest enough to admit that I still hold onto the hope that the end of this journey through the Delta Quadrant will bring the beginning of our journey together through the rest of our lives. And given her recent actions, perhaps it is a hope that Kathryn shares as well. Only time will tell.

Along with Kathryn, the crew is full of many fascinating characters, many of whom I am pleased to call friends. B'Elanna Torres is our Chief Engineer, and is married to our best pilot, Tom Paris. On the surface they go together about as well as oil and water - she's got the temper of her half Klingon heritage and he treats life as a game only he can play - but somehow they've managed to build a strong foundation for their future. Tuvok is our Chief of Security; a typical stoic Vulcan on the outside, but as loyal and honest as anyone I've ever known on the inside. Our Chief Medical Officer is actually a hologram, yet he's sentient and has a zest for life matched by few flesh and blood beings. Speaking of which, he apparently has developed feelings for our resident former Borg drone, an attractive young woman named Annika Hansen, who prefers to be addressed by her Borg designation Seven of Nine. Neelix is our resident 'court jester' and morale officer. He's a member of a species called Talaxians - not much to look at but he has the biggest heart you could ever hope to encounter. And of course, there's Harry Kim - Ops officer and eternal optimist. He started out as green as grass, but his experiences on Voyager are shaping him into an excellent officer.

Well, duty calls, so I have to go. I pray that this letter finds all well with you and yours. My thoughts are with you.

Chakotay

Kathryn Janeway set the last PADD down on her desk and settled comfortably back into her chair. It had been a good session. Each department report had been read, commented upon and approved. It had taken a little less than three hours to go through this week's pile and that included a conference link with Neelix in the mess hall and Ensign Chell in security. It seemed that the Bolian had some imaginative ideas about the opening ceremonies of the upcoming Delta Quadrant Olympics he wanted to share with Voyager's morale officer and co-incidentally, one of the co-chairs of the event. Neelix, initially wary, had been convinced to give the Ensign a chance to prove himself, and indeed had become quite enthusiastic at the prospect of working with another 'creative spirit'. Janeway grinned. She wondered whether she should look forward to the Olympics or dread them. She had managed to convince the enthusiastic Talaxian that a marathon biathlon was out of the question, especially for his commanding officer. But she still wasn't sure about what he would come up with in its place.

She had one more task left, but this one was not onerous at all. Janeway pushed herself away from her desk, stood up and walked across her ready room.

"Coffee, Janeway, special." She directed the replicator, and couldn't suppress a satisfied smile when the mug of steaming liquid materialized before her. "That's more like it," she told the machine. She picked up the cup, headed towards her sofa and sat down. From an antique wooden secretary on the table next to her she removed some heavy stationary and a pen. The box had set her back one week's replicator rations, but she didn't regret the expense for a moment. She arranged herself comfortably on the couch, propped the box carefully on her knees and arranged the paper on its top.

From: Captain Kathryn M. Janeway, Commanding Officer,
U.S. NCC-74656
To: Mrs. Phoebe J. Robbins
Router heading: Sector 001; Earth; Indiana;
187115957
Stardate 54382.4

Personal and Confidential

Dear Phoebe,

I know it's been a while since I've written. As you'd expect, I've been busy . . . with everything, and with nothing. It's hard to describe the rhythm of daily life on board a ship, something I haven't attempted to do since my first posting as an ensign more years ago now than I care to remember. But Voyager is at once the same and yet very different from every other vessel I've ever been on.

We travel through space in our little insular community, concerned with the doings of just 150 odd individuals. Despite the monthly datastream that Starfleet sends us we're still so isolated. I still find it incredible that an entire quadrant-enveloping war has swept through and left downtrodden empires and new regimes in its wake while we ourselves have experienced none of it. If you had asked me seven years ago what the next war facing the Federation would entail, I may have guessed at the unstable Cardassian alliance as being a flash point, but not to the extent of what this war eventually became. The Dominion, the Breen . . . one just a mysterious rumor from the Gamma quadrant, the other a power closer to home that we never quite understood. And to envision the Romulan Star Empire fighting alongside the Federation-what a strange new world we're going to find ourselves in one day.

And who knows how long or far off that day is going to be. The vast distances separating us from the Alpha Quadrant never quite seemedreal, at least in the beginning. I think for the first couple of years, in between staving off disaster, we kept expecting to suddenly fall into a wormhole which would end up leaving us within a stone's throw of Earth, or else encounter some amazingly advanced beings who'd send us home in the blink of an eye. Nice fantasies, but not very practical. Especially the latter-though I've met Q and I will say he is indeed as capricious, and as dangerous to trust, as all the early reports made him out to be. No, we no longer put our faith in false gods but rather look to our own strengths and abilities instead.

In nearly seven years of journeying, we've managed to cover half the distance from the Ocampan homeworld where the Caretaker's energy beam deposited us. Some of it has been by luck, or chance, but we have managed to make purposeful progress on our own. I don't think it's going to take another 25 to 30 years- perhaps another decade or two at most is the most recent prediction, and in my more unguarded moments there are times that I actually believe it myself.

But why am I boring you with these late night ramblings? There's something about the old- fashioned construct of putting pen to paper-don't laugh, though you are undoubtedly snickering at my expense reading this, remembering the older sister who couldn't be bothered with her family's Traditionalist customs and habits. Would you be surprised to hear that over the years there has been more than one occasion I've written my captain's log in such a primitive fashion? There's just something about the permanence of such a medium that helps me to stay connected to my humanity. Especially at times when it's been put to the test.

I had one such experience not too long ago, when we had a rather unexpected encounter with a Cardassian warship. Without breaching any security clearances I can tell you it was an old style vessel, obviously pulled in by the Caretaker a good 30 years earlier, right around the time of the Nyakkan Conference. I know that name has some significance for you. One of the last conferences attended by Admiral Edward Janeway, and irony of ironies, the Cardassian Gul was familiar with Dad-and our family as well. He actually asked me, "Are you the scholar or the hellion?" Humph. Maybe if I'd staked my claim as being the hellion the outcome would have been a little different...Lest you think it was a pleasant reunion, think again. It's not that no one ever told these Cardassians that the war was over; rather they reacted as you would expect someone in their isolated and desperate position to behave, and I allowed sentiment to cloud my initial judgment. But all's well that ends well, right? I'm safe and sound, with the exception of another molar I really had no need for anyway, and perhaps one day my first officer and chief of security will stop blaming themselves.

Anyway. How are you doing? The pictures from Kathy's birthday party last month were wonderful. She's a beautiful little girl, Phoebe. I know you say she looks like me, but she's got Mom's eyes. I'm glad she liked the Flotter doll. You sounded nervous-what'd you think I was going to do, buy my three year old niece a Starfleet class astral analyzer? Give me some credit. She has to be at least six before she could even lift one of those.

I'm just glancing over your last letter to me -good grief, Phoebe, you never were one to mince words, let alone now that I'm a good 28,000 light years away. As I've told you previously, I'm the captain of the ship. They look to me to set the tone, the direction, to make sure that things are running smoothly. Of course I have friends! What do you think, I spend each evening alone in my cabin looking at old holoimages? Honestly. This goes back to what I was saying earlier, about the type of community we've forged here aboard Voyager. I don't think I've ever felt more connected to the people I've served with...Any personal involvement of the kind you keep hinting at, however, dear sister, is not feasible precisely because of the responsibilities I have now. But please believe me when I say my life is still busy and fulfilling, if a little lacking in some of the other things at the moment. But as Mom always used to say, we can't always get what we want; but if we're lucky we just might find what we need.

I'm getting toward the end of my space allotment. My chief engineer has co-opted the major portion of this month's datastream allocation. Tell Mom I won't have a chance to write her till next month. And please reassure her for me that I'm as well as can be expected and am doing my damnedest to get home soon.

All my love,

Kathryn

"Two! Only two!" wailed the EMH.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. That's the rule. Two per person this month. We've got a big tech transmission going out to the engineers at Starfleet Command, so there's not much room for other messages."

"But it's critical that my letters go out this month, Ensign Kim!"

"Well, I can check with the captain, I guess. How many do you have to send?"

"Only twelve."

"TWELVE! You've got twelve letters to send to the Alpha Quadrant?"

"They're very short, Ensign."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I didn't know he knew twelve people to write to," he muttered under his breath, as he tapped his comm badge. "Kim to Janeway . . ."

The Doctor sniffed archly, but he was confident that Harry would obtain the captain's permission for him to send his letters. He was stunned when he heard Janeway's decision.

"Five! That's all? Only five?"

"That's three more than anybody else is going to get. Where are they going, anyway?"

"Earth. Mars. All sorts of places. Are you sure you can't . . ."

"Pick the five most important to send out now, Doc. That's all I can do. Send the rest next month."

Grumbling, the Doctor struggled for a while, but he finally managed to choose the five most likely to produce the desired results.

From: EMH, U.S.S. Voyager, NCC-74656
Router Heading: Starfleet Command; Earth;
To: Mr. Jameson Whitfield-Wilson-Jones
Flights of Fancy, Ltd.
7147 Piccadilly Circus
London, England, British Isles WK9L54
Terra

Dear Mr. Whitfield-Wilson-Jones,

In response to your recent advertisement in the cyberzine "Holographic Adventurer," I wish to offer your company the opportunity to purchase a work of stunning creativity and importance. In my travels as the Chief Medical Officer for the Starship Voyager, I have been able to research this story in my downtime hours. It is very close to my heart (so to speak), as you can well imagine.

This holoprogram is designed to educate, edify, and enrich the spirit of humanoid and holographic beings throughout the Alpha Quadrant. It cannot fail to please you and your program users.

If you are interested in obtaining more information about this program prior to

making an offer, feel free to contact me in care of

U.S.S. Voyager, c/o Pathfinder

Project, Starfleet Command, San Francisco,

California, 94103-4774-5437, Terra. Thank you

for your consideration.

Very truly yours,

Emergency Medical Hologram

U.S.S. Voyager-NCC-74656

Seven is in good form today. The thought came to Janeway as the velocity ball ricocheted off of two walls and almost got past her again. Kathryn could feel a bead of sweat trickle down her temple as she stepped to the left and extended her racquet as far as possible, barely maintaining control of the return.

Seven's own hair was slightly disheveled, but she till managed to converse while playing. This was "their time" as Janeway put it, and Seven valued the specified time to delve into questions that might be uncomfortable if asked in public. Even after so much time on Voyager, Seven still struggled occasionally with the social situations on ship.

"Captain, I was wondering," she hit the ball, "what is the purpose of sending letters to the alpha quadrant every month?

Janeway caught the ball on her racquet after the first ricochet and returned it.

"Support."

Seven returned the ball again, "You require support? Are you tired?"

It was because Seven had started towards Janeway to assist her that she did not see the fast moving velocity ball angling for her. So when bounced squarely off of her temple, it nearly knocked Seven completely off of her feet.

Janeway moved quickly to keep Seven upright.

"No, we send letters home for emotional support."

As Seven steadied herself, Janeway released her. "You have spoken many times about the closeness felt by your crew. Do you not have sufficient emotional support among them?"

Janeway paused to consider this. It was true. Her crew were probably as close as any crew in the fleet could be. Their survival required them to be interdependent. So then why did they jump at the chance to talk to the people back home? "I suppose we turn to different people for different types of support. Not everyone is equally adept at handling every issue. The people back home fill in the gaps for us that the crew out here has been unable to fill. Despite everything this crew has been through out here, there are some common experiences that many people only share with few others. Those are the people we keep close to us, and who we turn to in times of specific need."

"Perhaps that is why I have not desired to communicate more with the alpha quadrant. I lack common experiences with the people there."

"Maybe," Janeway agreed. "But maybe you just haven't thought about it enough. There are certainly people in the alpha quadrant with whom you share the bond of family, or perhaps the intellectually gifted. Give it some thought, Seven. We still have a few hours before the transmission goes out."

"I will."

Janeway handed Seven the velocity ball pointedly. "It's your serve."

From: Seven of Nine,

Civilian Adjunct, U.S.S. Voyager

NCC-74656

To: Captain Jean-Luc Picard,

U.S.S. Enterprise-E

Router: Alpha Quadrant, Sector 001, Earth, Starfleet

HQ, APO Forward

118747351

Stardate 54382.4

Dear Captain Picard,

Although we have not been introduced, we have met, in a manner of speaking. At that time, your designation was Locutus and mine was Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix One. I was in the Collective mind with you. Since that time, I have been severed from the Collective and restored to individuality, as you have been. Currently I am a member of the crew of USS Voyager under Captain Janeway in the Delta Quadrant.

I tell you this to explain my reason for writing to you. To my knowledge, there is no other Human who has returned to individuality following full assimilation. Even Captain Janeway was subjected to only partial assimilation and in any event, her experience is not relevant to my purpose. I write to ask for your candid assessment of how I would be accepted if Voyager returned to Earth in the immediate future.

It is true that the ship remains approximately twenty-eight thousand light years from Earth. However, now that regular communication with Starfleet has been established, many in the crew believe that we will find a way to reduce the time typically needed for that journey. If so, we will return to a world in which memories of Borg assaults are still fresh. Wolf 359 was only twelve years ago and there was a direct assault on Earth only five years ago. I had hoped that by the time we arrived, these events would have faded into the past. It now seems I must consider other possibilities, and I wish to be prepared.

My association with the Borg is easily discerned by the remaining external implants visible in several places on my body. I was assimilated as a small child and as a result some Borg components have become integral to my physical being. Voyager's Doctor, who is both skilled and resourceful, has successfully removed 87% of the cybernetics added through assimilation, but the remaining 13% are necessary to sustain me. It is for this reason that I continue to use the designation Seven of Nine; I am no longer truly Borg, but neither am I truly Human.

My question is not posed lightly. When I first came aboard Voyager, a few of the crew accepted me without fear; most, however, viewed me with suspicion and mistrust. With time and close association I have overcome that antipathy. I believe I can regard Voyager as a microcosm of Federation society, and that upon our return a similar reaction will occur: a few will accept me as an individual but the majority will consider me an enemy. Unlike Voyager, I will not have the luxury of time and close association to change their minds.

I was content with this conclusion until a few months ago, when it was suggested to me that I may be viewed as a symbol of hope to those who have lost family to assimilation. For a time I drew comfort from that thought, but then I realized it is contradictory to what I have already experienced. I must admit, I am confused. Captain Janeway has been my mentor but circumstances dictate that she cannot know the current attitudes in the Alpha Quadrant. Also, I suspect she would "sugar coat" her answer to spare me emotional turmoil.

I do not wish to be spared; I wish only an honest assessment so that I can plan my future accordingly. You are, I believe, the only person in a position to respond to my question with a knowledgeable and candid answer.

Thank you for your attention. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Seven of Nine

From: EMH/ECH

U.S.S. Voyager

NCC-74656

Router Heading: Starfleet Command; Earth;

To: Ms. Colleen Murphy O'Hanlon

Holographic Adventures Unlimited, Inc.

7777 Lakeside Avenue

Suite 44-C

Cleveland, Ohio 44144-4477-5001

Terra

My Dearest Ms. O'Hanlon,

Medical Officer for the Starship Voyager, I have been able to research this story in my downtime hours. It is very close to my heart (so to speak), as you can well imagine.