Letters from the Delta Quadrant Part 6

by Katherine Fritz
(redshoes@ix.netcom.com)

Dear Mom and Dad,

Captain Janeway told me how you called just before we left Deep Space Nine to ask if there was time to send my clarinet. I wish there had been. I would like to have that now, it would be another little piece of you I could have with me.

So now you know what happened, that we're stuck out here in the Delta Quadrant and it will take years for us to get home. I wish we were home now so I could see you and hug you and tell you how much I love you. But it's no use wishing for things like that, not now. We have to concentrate all our energies on figuring out a quicker way home. I hope we can. Captain Janeway says we will, and I believe her.

It's hard not to believe Captain Janeway. She's pretty great. My first assignment out of Starfleet, and what luck to draw her as my first captain. It's hard to describe, exactly, but you just look at her and she inspires you. Inspires confidence, inspires courage, inspires your best efforts. I don't know how to explain it, but you just don't want to let her down. I'm lucky to be in her crew.

Commander Chakotay, too -- he's had a lot of experience and is a very patient teacher. It's hard to remember sometimes that he was ever a Maquis terrorist and that we originally were sent out to catch him and his crew. He was in Starfleet for many years before he joined the Maquis, and he believes very much in Starfleet regulations and the Prime Directive. They tell me that he quit Starfleet in a moment of anger because his father was killed by the Cardassians. I can definitely see that happening, though I've never seem him raise his voice in anger. (Our Chief Engineer, B'Elanna Torres, has, and she says it's not a sight you want to see very often!) But he really is a very kind man, very much at peace with himself, and is probably the most disciplined person I've ever met. He is quietly confident, and when you meet him, you just trust him implicitly. I think Captain Janeway made a good choice when she asked him to be her First Officer after Commander Cavit was killed.

I've made some friends too, some very good friends. I hope you get to meet them someday. Tom Paris is one of them -- I actually met him even before I reported on board Voyager. What happened was, he rescued me from a Ferengi on DS9 who was trying to scam me out of my money. I made the mistake of telling this Ferengi that we'd been warned about them at the Academy, and before I knew it I was in so far over my head, it's a wonder I didn't drown. I guess Tom just took pity on me -- I was such a greenhorn. Anyway, he got me out of that, and then asked me, "Didn't they warn you about the Ferengi at the Academy?" It was pretty funny, even then.

It's hard to believe sometimes how very far we are from home, but it does make me realize how lucky I was to have you as my parents. What you taught me, what you gave me, was so very special -- all about how important it is to look for the good in people and to encourage others to do their best. How important it is to keep a positive outlook -- for you never know when your attitude may all the encouragement that some people need. Some of my crewmates think I am naive for trying to be positive, that I can be a "goody two-shoes." Maybe that's true, but so what if I am? What's wrong with a little optimism, anyway?

One thing I do have trouble with staying positive about is Libby. I miss her so much, and I worry about her and how she is taking all this. Please look after her for me, and tell her how much I love her. She mustn't worry herself over me -- I am doing very well, and have good friends and good people to work with. There's really no way of telling when we will make it back, and while I am convinced that we will before too long, I don't want Libby to put her life on hold. Please don't let her close her eyes to opportunity. I want her to be happy. This is hard for me to say, because I love her and miss her, but...well, if she finds someone else...I'll understand. And I want you to support her if she does. She deserves that, after all, and I know that you know that.

Mom, Dad -- I miss being near you, but I also know that you're always with me, that I carry you inside me, in everything you ever taught me about the principles in life, and how to conduct myself and how to treat others. We may be on the other side of the galaxy, but we are still Starfleet officers and representatives of the Federation, and I can't ever forget that.

Even though I'm so very far from home, and from you, I try to live my life as though you were as close as next door. I want you to be proud of me, but even more important I want to be proud of myself. You gave me that, and I'll always thank my lucky stars for it.

I look around this ship sometimes and realize how little I know compared to some, and how much I have to learn. At times like that, it's hard to feel like I have much of anything important to contribute. Tom says I'm too hard on myself. "We were all green once," he says. "Doesn't mean we can't do our jobs and learn at the same time." Tom says we never stop learning anyway. We never know as much as we'd like or as much as we should or as much as we need. All we can do is the best we can, and keep paying attention. Tom's a good friend.

I've replicated myself a clarinet and I practice whenever I can. I've even managed to scrape together an impromptu jazz quartet and we play for the crew as often as they'll have us. It's a nice break from our duties.

Oh, and Mom? You'll be happy to know I'm eating regularly. Not that our ship's cook is particularly good. Neelix's food is nutritious and well-balanced, for all the grief we give him for the fact that most of it tastes pretty darned strange. So don't worry -- I'm getting my three squares a day.

I miss you. I hope to see you before too long. It's a good crew, and I'm sure we will figure out a way home before you know it.

Love,
Harry

Dear Libby,

They haven't given us much time to write and I have so much to say.

My first assignment out of Starfleet Academy, and we were only supposed to be gone for maybe three weeks at the most. So what happens? Some alien with a bad sense of timing decides that maybe we can help get him out of a mess of his own making, and drags us all across hell's half-acre to the other side of the galaxy. Then he up and dies on us.

What a great cosmic joke on us. Not a very funny one, either.

I tell everyone how much I believe we'll make it home much, much sooner than 75 years, and deep down I really do believe that -- but I can't lie to you: I sometimes have my doubts about the speed of our return trip. It really gets me down sometimes.

Fortunately, I've made some friends already, some very good friends in fact. That helps. It helps a lot.

Tom Paris is one of those friends. I think I'd have to admit that he's probably my best friend, outside of you and Danny Bird. Maybe you've heard of Tom -- he's the son of Admiral Owen Paris -- it's funny, but I never did. Guess I was just too wrapped up in studying, and then...well, then there was you. Anyway, he had a piloting accident at Caldik Prime a few years ago, and some officers were killed. Tom's fault -- and he got court-martialed and thrown out of Starfleet. After that, he joined the Maquis, where he got captured and sentenced to prison. Captain Janeway got him out to come with us as an official observer and a guide to help us find the Maquis we were searching for.

I suppose if I'd known all this before I'd met him, he might not be my friend now, because maybe I wouldn't have wanted to know him. I can be pretty by-the-book sometimes, as you know.

Well, anyway, what can I say? I liked him. He was a good guy, he didn't have to help me out like he did when he got me out of a jam at DS9 (ask my parents about it sometime -- I told them the whole story when I wrote to them). So when I found out about Caldik Prime, well, I just asked him if it was true. He said it was. I asked him why, and he just tried to deflect me, he said what was the difference, he lied. He tried to pretend it didn't matter to him, but you could tell it did. He was really hurting about it. Anyway, he said he knew I'd been warned to stay away from him, and he said I should take that advice. I told him nobody chooses my friends for me. I meant that I would make up my own mind. I could tell that he was touched by that, though he tried not to show it. Again.

Tom's a pretty private person, actually, though you wouldn't know it for all his carefree ways and easy charm. He hides behind that mask. It's protection for the feelings he's buried so deep down. I know a little bit about his relationship with his father and what happened to him before he landed in prison, and it's sad, really. Sometimes I think that none of it would have ever happened if his family life had been just a little bit different, just a little bit more forgiving, a little bit more loving. Of course, then I would never have met him, and as much as I wish he'd had less pain in his life, I would have been the poorer for never having met him. I realize that's a selfish feeling on my part, but, well, I'm just glad he's here with us now.

Oh, and have I mentioned that he's the best pilot I've ever seen? We've had to do some pretty fancy flying since we've been here, ducking plasma storms and outrunning Kazon pirates, and I've gotta hand it to Tom -- when it comes to driving this ship, he sure knows what he's doing.

B'Elanna Torres is another good friend, and I think you'd like her, too. B'Elanna was a member of the Maquis crew, but now she's our chief engineer. She's a real pistol. She should be, she's half Klingon and half human. She's tough and has a hair-trigger temper that even she admits she has trouble controlling, and you don't want to be on her bad side. Well, on second thought, maybe you wouldn't like her so much, after all.

I suppose that touchiness is due to her upbringing. Like Tom, she didn't have such a great relationship with her parents, either. She hasn't seen her father since she was 5, and she had a lot of conflicts with her Klingon mother. B'Elanna's got some pretty deep-seated insecurities about her appearance -- not fully human, not fully Klingon -- and her, well, the person she is. She's constantly at war with herself. I try to help her, try to show her she's greater than the sum of those parts, but it's hard for her. I'm going to persevere, though -- that's what she doesn't know -- just how stubborn a Kim can be!

I realize that what I just said about B'Elanna might look kinda like...well...suspicious. Don't worry about that, Libby. I'm not interested in B'Elanna. She's like a sister, the kind you fight with all the time, you know? Kinda like you and Danny... And besides, I think she's really more interested in Commander Chakotay. Or maybe Tom. Certainly not me, and even if she was -- well, Libby, you're the one for me. So don't worry on that score.

And anyway I drive her crazy. She tells me that all the time, how she can't stand how I'm always so cheerful.

Funny how everyone here seems to look upon me as this guy who's always cheerful, never a cross word, doesn't put a foot wrong. Oh, boy, if only they knew.

This was supposed to be a short assignment -- in and out, and done. On to the next posting. Here I am, just this green ensign, fresh out of the Academy. I look around me and I see the level of experience, the expertise, and it just makes me quail sometimes. How am I supposed to keep doing this?

I watch Commander Chakotay, and I think: I don't know anything! He's so calm and soft-spoken, yet he knows how to bring out the best efforts in everyone, how to smooth over the rough patches as the Maquis and Starfleet crews learn to work together.

I watch B'Elanna wrestle her way around engineering, brainstorm these brilliant patches on broken equipment. She's a mad genius when it comes to hardware. Now I can find my way around an engine room, but I'm just a plodder in comparison to her thoroughbred.

I watch Tom Paris fly this ship, seemingly by magic, threading the needle through storms and meteor showers, and I marvel at how easy he makes it look. For all his brashness and big talk, he really is as good as he says he is.

I watch Lieutenant Tuvok, who always seems to have the answers for Captain Janeway's questions, even when I know there's no way he could. That Vulcan composure, that quiet confidence soothes me and rattles me all at the same time.

Even the Doctor -- he may be a hologram, but he's got the knowledge matrices of 47 Starfleet physicians and surgeons. He's directing Kes through a four-year medical course in mere months -- how can he do that? How can she do that? She's just a year and a half old, but she's already older than I am, in terms of what she knows and what she's learning.

And Captain Janeway, holding it all together, forging this new crew out of Starfleet and Maquis, telling us we're all we've got -- a community working together to get home. She's got the toughest job of all, and she makes it look like she's done this all her life.

And what am I? Just this green Ops officer, fresh out of the Academy. What do I bring to this group? What's my special talent? How can I help? I'm just learning!

And then there's you. I feel like I should be telling you something noble like "Don't wait for me" or "Please wait for me." Neither of them seems right. I mean, I want more than anything to be with you again. By now, if we hadn't gotten lost out here, we might not be married, but I know we'd be together. But on the other hand, I have no idea how long it will be till we can get back to the Alpha Quadrant, so that I can be with you.

See, I know what I should say, and I don't want to do it. This is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I don't want to tell you to forget me and go on with your life. There's this part of me that wants you to wait for me, and be waiting for me when I come home.

When I come home. Yes. I believe I will be home before we are old and gray. I believe it, I believe we will be home soon. I believe it. I do.

I have to. Because if I don't believe it, if I lose faith in that dream -- I'm afraid I may give up hope completely. And I can't do that. There's too much at stake here. Here, and at home.

I'm so afraid sometimes, Libby, afraid that I will slide into depression and despair and won't be able to drag myself up out of the pit of it. And I don't know how to look my fear in its face, confront that personal demon, and banish it from my life. Something in me wants to give in and drown in that fear. And I can't do that, either. Again, there's just too much at stake.

I've managed to overcome all this so far, but there are times at night, when I'm lying awake, staring holes into my sleep mask, seeing everything and nothing -- times when I'm just paralyzed by these demons: fear and depression and despair.

So I find myself constantly battling these fears of mine, afraid of taking a false step, and losing everything. It's a wonder some days I can even get out of bed.

Meanwhile, I watch my crewmates, people like Tom and B'Elanna and Joe Carey and Sam Wildman getting stronger and more confident every day, and I just keep feeling less and less adequate. How am I ever going to keep up with these guys?

What have I got that they haven't? They've all had to struggle with such adversity...and overcome so much. What do I have to complain about? My problems seem so petty in comparison.

What if I don't measure up?

I have got to get hold of myself, gotta snap out of it. Self-pity is an ugly thing. And I know I'm whining. Dammit! I have to be there for Captain Janeway, and for this crew. They're counting on me. All we really have is each other, and we need to depend on each other. I have to do this, I have to learn my job, do it better than anybody, so I can help us get home.

I can do it. I know I can do it. I hope I can do it.

God, I'm sorry to unload this on you, Libby, but I have to tell someone, and I can't tell my parents. You know how I always had to call them at least once a week, or they'd start calling the police out of worry that I'd been hit by a bus. Please don't ever tell my parents any of this. But could you check on them for me, please? Let them know I'm all right. I really am all right, Libby, I promise you.

I miss you, Libby. I love you so much. And I trust you to decide what's the right thing to do for you. And if you decide to move on, if you find someone else, I'll understand.

So listen to me, Libby: don't put your life on hold. Be the woman I fell in love with, and seize the moment as it comes. Do whatever you need to do to be happy. Above everything else, I want you to be happy.

There. I said it.

God, I miss you, Libby.

I'll be home as soon as I can.

All my love,
Harry

End Part 6

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