Transmitted: June, 2093

Dear Sandy,

Thank God for anti-matter! Without it, this trip would take a hundred years rather than just twenty. Still, that’s an awful long time to be away. But for me to be on the first starship is worth it. I am exactly where I want to be, and I often think about those times when Dad and I would sit out in the yard and talk about the stars and how someday we would go there. To see up close an entirely different solar system…Man, oh man!

I wish you would have come.

But now I understand (how could I not, after all the bitter arguments we had?) that you and I are just too different to understand each other’s thinking. For me, traveling to the stars was a lifelong dream, and when the chance came, I had to take it or be unhappy for the rest of my life. To you, a star journey would be nothing more than living in a cage (albeit, a big one) for twenty years, with always the same faces and the same rooms and never any new places to visit. My fulfilled dream would be your fulfilled nightmare.

I guess that the divorce was a good idea. I could hardly expect you to wait twenty years for me to return. It is best that you and our precious little Dorothy live without any obligations to me. But never forget that I love you now, and will love you both forever.

I’ve almost reached my three-hundred-word limit. Tomorrow, the Columbus goes into boost and I’ll be on my way to Alpha Centauri. I hope your love will go with me. Kiss Dorothy for me and tell her that Daddy loves her.

All my love, honey,
Ken

Transmitted: June, 2093

Dear Ken,

I waited days before trying to write this because I wasn’t sure of what to say, or of how to say anything in just three hundred words. I still don’t know what to say because my feelings are so mixed up. What you said in your letter makes sense, but I still feel so hurt, so betrayed. And I think that I may have made the wrong decision.

Would I have been able to live with a man who had been denied his dream? Would I have been able to stay sane on a starship for twenty years? Either way, I’m beginning to think we should have taken that risk. But we’re both so stubborn. Which one would have given in?

But now on a happy topic: Dorothy is trying to walk! She crawls over to the couch, pulls herself up to her feet, and by holding on even manages to take a few steps before she falls on her little fanny. She misses you. She was only four months when you left for preflight training. She can’t talk but mama can tell when her little girl thinks something is wrong. Sometimes I see her staring at that big picture of you over the TV, and sometimes she cries for no apparent reason and I can’t get her to stop. But usually she is happy. She loves to stare at the TV, and the doctor says she’s developing just right, maybe even faster than normal.

I did give Dorothy a kiss for you, and I’m sure she wants me to send one back. I do still love you. I’m sure that, in some ways, I always will. Please write back as soon as they let you send your next Personal.

All my love, too, hon,
Sandy

Transmitted: June, 2094

Dear Sandy,

Now that we’re out of boost I can send a Personal again. I guess it’s a bit late to have second thoughts. We made our decision, and, logically, it was the best one. But I admit that many times I wake up in the middle of the night and my heart doesn’t think so.

Since you can get the ship news off the TV, I’ll leave that stuff out. But you might wonder about those people you see on TV. Capt. Graham is as competent as he looks. First Mate Denise Masterson is a real bitch. Doctor Stewart can’t stand her, and he and the other scientists keep talking about “doing something” about her. I think this political stuff is all rather silly.

Most of the other people that I spend time with are wonderful. We’ve all been dreamers, and we’re all having our dreams fulfilled. I’ve made some friends among them. Richard in biology shares my sense of humor. Ted and Judy are a husband/wife physicist/doctor team. They keep trying to fix me up with the few single lady Ph.D.s aboard, but I’m not interested.

Really, I’ll never find anyone to compare to you, Sandy. I miss your soft hair, how you used to whisper my name. You know.

And I miss Dorothy. I wish I could see how big she is now. By now she must be speaking. Did you teach her “Daddy”? Tell me about my little girl.

The first year went well, sweetheart, but I sorely miss you. I don’t want to get maudlin, but sometimes I think the dream I really wanted I already had, but left it behind on Earth. Keep me in your thoughts, my love. You are never far away from mine.

Missing and loving you,
Ken

Transmitted: September, 2094

So you wake in the idle of the night, too. If I start talking about that now I’ll just cry, so I’ll tell you about Dorothy instead.

She is the most precious darling of a daughter you could hope for, Ken! She’s into everything, but she’s such a sweetie I just can’t get mad at her. Of course I taught her how to say “Daddy”! She knows that Daddy is that man in the picture, and she says she remembers you holding her. (Well, she doesn’t quite say that, but I know she remembers you.)

It’s funny, but I can see a lot of your personality in her already. She plays with blocks, but she actually makes little buildings, and she gets testy when I knock them down and pick up the blocks. The doctor says she’s very, very bright. When she’s a little older I’ll have her tested, but she’ll probably be another scientist just like her daddy. I know it.

Your mom and dad are fine. They come over to see Dorothy at least once a week and love babysitting her. Your mom asked me how I would take it when you came home and were only a few years older. I tried to tell her that you were only going at about half lightspeed and you’d only age a little slower, but then I saw your dad roll his eyes so I knew he’d already tried to explain it to her but had given up.

As I write, Dorothy is playing at my feet with her Pooh bear and her bunny. She talks to them. I think she thinks they’re people. She’s looking at me. She just said “Me Daddy.”

jfkdir93 94jd,xls. That was from her. It means I love you.

So do I,
Sandy

Transmitted: April, 2095

Dear Sandy,

jfkdir93 94jd,xls to her, too. I always get restless waiting for your letters to come. I crave words about my, our, daughter. I sometimes wonder if I don’t miss her even more than I miss you, and I don’t even know Dorothy, not really. Why did I have to run off to the stars when I could have experienced the wonder and beauty of watching my child grow up? Please, more news when you can.

Shipboard routine is just that, routine, and most of the group is getting a bit stir crazy. Doctor Stewart started a newspaper, a real one, on paper, and Ted and Judy help him write it. The first few issues were boring, but now some of them are downright slanderous of Mate Masterson, and since we all hate her, the paper is now fun to read. Actually, we don’t all hate her. Richard actually slept with her twice. He told me she gives orders in the sack, too. Doc Stewart overheard a bit of that and wrote a hysterical opinion piece about sex in space. It was a takeoff of Swift’s “A Modest Proposal.” I’ll keep a copy of it for you.

As for sex in space, I’m doing without. I don’t want anyone else but you, Sandy. I don’t even think I could perform with anyone else, even if I wanted to. I now know my vows were to you, for better or for worse, and I had no right to run out on you and Dorothy. I’m sorry. I now know you always were, and always will be, the only one for me. I’m not so stupid to think I can ask you to wait for me, but for what it’s worth, I’ll wait for you.

Always loving you,
Ken

Transmitted: April, 2096

Dear Ken,

Of course I’ll wait for you! There isn’t anyone else for me. I always knew that. It bothered me terribly that you never seemed to understand. I love you as much as any person can love another. And I haven’t “performed” with anyone else, either. You’re mine, lover, and now that you’ve admitted it, you’d better not forget!

And our little girl is growing up so quickly! She’s only three, but the doctor says she talks like a six-year-old. She’s also taught herself to read, and when we go to the store it’s all I can do to drag her away from the book section. She has one big picture book called A First Book of Spaceships that she takes to bed along with her bear. I showed her the picture of the Columbus in the book and she always shows that picture to her friends and tells them that’s where her daddy is.

I’m going to start her in school next fall. She’ll still only be three when she starts, but it would be ridiculous to hold her back.

And now she wants to write to you.

Dear Daddy,

How are you? I am fine. I want to go on a spaceship too just like you and be with you. Mommy said I can but I got to be big first. I love you Daddy.

Dorothy

That was our little girl! She has hair color like yours when you were little—white as beach sand. We already know where she got her brains from, so let’s hope that she gets her beauty from me. I only have a few more words so I just want to say I love You I love You I love You.

I love you,
Sandy

Transmitted: April, 2100

My dearest darling Sandy,

You don’t know how you’ve made the stars shine brighter and the (disgusting) ship food taste better, and the flat air smell sweeter since you told me you’d wait! I wish I were good at writing love letters, but you know me — my hands only connect to my heart through the brain.

I have so many plans for us when I get back. We’ll have plenty of money with my accumulated back pay, and we’ll buy a place in the mountains, just like you always wanted. And I promise, honey, once I’m back my wanderlust will be gone, and I’ll take a nice, comfortable position at the University and the only traveling I do will be with you and Dorothy. Of course, she’ll be in her twenties then, and she might not want to go with us. Drat, I’m on the greatest human adventure of all time, and all I can think about is getting home to see you and our daughter.

If I’ve figured things out right, she should be ten by the time you get this. So: Dorothy, daddy loves you. I want you to listen to your mom and do what she says, and I want you to work hard in school so you can be a scientist just like your daddy, if you still want to. I think of you often, and when I get to Alpha Centauri, I’ll name something, a moon or asteroid, after you.

Love,
Your dad

Aw, hon, I can’t wait to see you again. Sometimes I take your picture with me to the observing dome, and watch the stars with you. In the lounge the piano player wonders why I always request “Luna, Lovers, and I.” But you and I will always know.

I love you,
Ken

Transmitted: April, 2103

Dear Daddy,

Grandma says they told you when Mom died. The accident was very bad. I was in the hospital for a month before they let me back out. Grandma and Grandpa are taking good care of me. Grandpa tells me stories about when you were a little boy and how you and he used to look at the stars from the backyard and how you always said you wanted to go to the stars, and now you are. I want to go too, so I am studying very hard in school to get good enough grades. I am in eighth grade now. I was moved ahead because the stuff we were learning in my grade I already knew and was bored by it.

My best friend is Tracy. She is only in sixth grade, but she’s my age so we do things together. She’s a lot of fun. The other girls in my grade are only interested in boys and are not very smart. They don’t care about school, only about the boys. The boys are dumb, too, and I’m smarter than all of them. But Kevin, though, is nice. He likes dinosaurs mostly, but he also likes space and astronomy and he likes it when I tell him that my dad in on the Columbus and what you’re doing.

I think that’s all I can say now because I don’t have enough room to say any more. I love you, Daddy. Don’t forget to name a planet after me.

Love,
Dorothy

P.S. I’m eleven, not ten.

Transmitted: September, 2106

Dear Dorothy,

I wish I could tell you how sorry I am that I wasn’t with your mother and you all those years you were growing up. I loved your mother very much. I hope Grandma has let you read some of the letters your mother and I exchanged while I’ve been on this ship. Although we were divorced, in our hearts we remarried.

But I get choked up thinking about her.

By the time you get this you will have seen all the stuff in the news about the expedition. I have all kinds of personal files for you to see when I get back. I hope the news showed your planet to you! We found a small planet orbiting close to Alpha Centauri and I won the ship pool and so I was able to name it after you. So now all the other planets have a morning star named Dorothy.

Your dad managed to do some good science out here, but it wasn’t worth leaving you behind. I was a fool to go. Still, it’s a little too late to cry over that spilt milk now, and I hope you can forgive me. I love you, Dorothy, my little girl.

Keep studying hard! Although I should have stayed with your mom, visiting the stars is still a great adventure. By now you should have a different view of boys than you did last time. Find one who shares your dream for the stars and marry him. Exploring new worlds with someone you love is the best of all possible dreams, and it’s worth any sacrifices to hard work you may have to make now.

I hope you don’t resent getting advice from a far distant dad, but it’s my way of helping you now.

Love,
Dad

Transmitted: February, 2110

Dear Father,

Though your last missive arrived last month, I have been too involved in my studies to reply until this moment. It feels strange to me in that my previous letter to you was written when I was only eleven, yet now I am fully eighteen. You missed my adolescence entirely. Sometimes I wish I had missed it, too. Perhaps you also dealt with difficulties as the brightest individual in your class, and yet the youngest. Grandfather has told me many stories of your youth. Yet you never had to deal with the problem of being the youngest, brightest, and also the only woman in a still heavily male dominated field.

But I do not wish to spend this whole letter complaining.

I have been at the University for ten quarters now, and I am pursuing a degree in astrophysics, just as you did. Though we really don’t know each other, I hope you will be proud of me for following in your footsteps. I hope soon to also follow in your later footsteps and travel to the stars myself.

As for finding a man to marry, now that is an eventuality that is not likely to develop. The only men in my life are Grandfather and you. Grandfather and Grandmother have been very good to me, and have treated me as if I were their own daughter. Grandfather and I still spend many star-filled evening in the backyard, looking at the sky and wondering about you. Grandmother still thinks you will only be a few years older than me when you return. Like Grandfather, I’ve given up trying to explain the true situation to her.

Oh, there is one other man. My friend Kevin from junior high is at the University now, too.

Your daughter,
Dorothy

Transmitted: April 2111

Dear Dorothy,

In a little over two years I’ll be home. It’s hard for me to believe that after all this time, our reunion is finally getting close. Your last letter made me sad in that I wish I could have been with you to help you through the trials of being a gifted adolescent. My own teen years were nothing to look back upon fondly. Your mother was only the second woman I ever dated, and that wasn’t until I blossomed in my twenties. She was such a special woman—I had no idea just how special until I actually had a chance to compare her to other women I’ve known professionally or as friends.

After your mother died there were some women on the ship who sought my attention, and at times they got it. But they could never replace your mom, and I think they realized that, and so it doesn’t look like I’ll be introducing you to a stepmother when the Columbus gets back.

If you’ve read some of the old messages I sent your mom, you might be interested to know that Doctor Stewart and Denise Masterson got married a few months ago. They’re still after each other’s throats, but in a different way now. Richard also got married, to Judy Phipps after she and Ted were divorced. Long journeys do things to people, particularly when they’re all stuck together like we’ve been all these years. The most important data from this trip may be psychological and sociological rather than scientific (is my prejudice against the soft sciences showing?).

Keep your chin up, my darling daughter. You have a wonderful life and career ahead of you, and your daddy will be home soon to take care of his little girl.

All my love kiddo,
Dad

Transmitted: June, 2112

Dear Dad,

I’m so excited! In two days I get to leave for my summer internship on—are you ready? THE MAGELLAN. Only fifty people on the entire planet qualified for this internship, and best of all, Kevin qualified, too! We’re supposed to be taught all about ship systems and things, but most of us believe that the real reason behind offering new post grads this opportunity is to get cheap, skilled labor for setting up the laboratories on board. But I don’t care! Rumor has it that maybe half of us will actually get to go to Tau Ceti when the Magellan sets out in two years. I’d love to be one of them, but even if I’m not, there will be others.

To catch you up briefly, I finished my undergraduate degree last month, and I graduated at the top of my class. Feel free to brag about your brilliant daughter to your friends, hah, hah. Also, Kevin graduated at the top of his class, too, in exobiology. Last time I said Kevin had just arrived at the University, and though I never would have believed it, we’ve been inseparable ever since. I’m in love, Dad. Everything looks so lovely now! Kevin and I haven’t set a date yet, but I want you to give me away, so I guarantee we’ll wait until you get back.

Grandma and Grandpa are planning a big party to welcome you home. Since that’s still a year away I think maybe they’re jumping the gun on the planning. Since I don’t like to be surprised by things like that, I’m assuming you don’t either, Dad. So just smile and wave and act surprised.

I love you, Dad. I’m so glad you’re almost home. Kevin says hello.

Your loving daughter,
Dorothy

Transmitted: September, 2112

Dear Dorothy,

I suppose by now you have set a date, so CONGRATULATIONS! I’m so happy that you found someone who shares your dream. I just hope that both of you will be able to go together on the Magellan. But honey, if it turns out that one of you is accepted, and the other isn’t, don’t make the mistake that your mother and I did. Although we at first parted bitterly, and then realized our foolishness, my big fear for you is that you or Kevin might grant the other a divorce out of the mistaken idea that it’s somehow noble not to stand in the way of the other’s dream. Remember that fulfilling the dream doesn’t involve dealing with the nightmare of leaving the one you love behind.

I know I’m a distant father, but if you ever listen to any of my advice, listen to this: If you can’t go together, don’t go at all.

Enough of the heavy stuff.

Now that we’re getting close, Earth is transmitting historical updates for us about what’s happened while we were gone. I found the scientific history the most fascinating. I see that the Magellan will make most of its journey at over .8 cee. Incredible! When the Columbus left they told us .5 cee was already pushing the limit. If we’d had the same drive I would have been home years ago!

The political news is curious, too. What do you think about this Solar System First group? Are they really against starships altogether, or is the encapsulated stuff I’m getting slanted against them? Most importantly, can they really stop the starship program?

Anyway, you know I look forward to finally seeing you, my dear daughter. I am so proud of you!

Love,
Dad

Transmitted: December, 2112

Dear Dad,

Thank you for the congratulations! You were right about that. Kevin and I have set the date for June 10, so you’ll have two whole weeks to get ready (and one week to recover from that big party Grandma and Grandpa are throwing).

As for the SSF party, they are as big a deal as you seem to have been told. In a way I should thank them, because they’re responsible for my job. I didn’t go to grad school in the fall like I’d planned. Both Kevin and I impressed our mentors during the internship, and they asked us to stay on for six more months. The SSF people are really trying to get the starship program eliminated, so the director moved up the timetable for getting the Magellan and the Drake finished. He thinks that if he’s already got completed starships waiting to go when the budget renewal comes up, the council will be more inclined to at least let the finished ones go rather than waste the money that’s already been spent.

Dad, I can’t believe the question is even raised! Of course we should go to the stars! They belong to us, all the creatures intelligent enough to design ways to get to them!

Dad, I’m so happy that you’re almost home. Although we don’t really know each other, you’ve been in my thoughts always since I was little, and I guess I never really felt like I had no father. I always knew you were coming back, and now that the time is close I, well, I start crying every time I think about it.

Kevin wants to say something: Sir, you have a beautiful, wonderful daughter. I promise to take good care of her. Kevin.

And he will, too!

Loving you and waiting,
Dorothy

Transmitted: February, 2113

Dear Dorothy,

Almost home! I’m getting so close I can almost taste it. Too bad you’re not living in the southern hemisphere—you could probably see the ship’s drive flame with a small scope. Come to think of it, you certainly could see it from the Magellan with their scopes. Have you looked?

Tell Kevin that I know he’ll take care of you, simply because you’re my girl and I know that you must have good judgement in men. Besides, how could anyone mistreat anyone as perfect as my daughter?

Seriously, honey, don’t worry about the political situation. They will fund the starship program. Too much has already been invested to pull out now, and I’m sure that next year you’ll be on the Magellan, or at least on the Drake the year after.

All of us on board have been talking about what we’ll do when we get back. I promised your mother long ago that I’d take a nice, quiet job at the University, and now I’m actually looking forward to it. One of your professors, Doctor Haan, sent me an official invitation to join his physics department. I’ve gotten other offers, too, and I’m going to keep Haan guessing, but I fully intend to accept his offer.

I can’t wait to see you! Now that the time is so close, the weeks seem to drag by. Still, there’s plenty for me to do as I help get all the collected specimens and special equipment packed away for removal to Earth. I do promise to look surprised at the party, at least when I can manage to take my eyes off you. I’m ecstatic that I’ll be able to give you away at your wedding. Your mother would have wanted that, too. I’ll be home soon.

Love,
Dad

Transmitted: March, 2113

Dear Dad,

I’m so mad! The SSFers actually got the Drake mission canceled! So far the Magellan is still supposed to go, but who knows what will happen now? I guess the Drake is going to be completed anyway, late of course, and then used for additional Solar System studies, but what a waste. I guess I should at least be thankful that it will be a fully capable starship, and if the political people get their heads screwed on straight she may still go to the stars.

As for the Magellan, there’s an incredible scramble going on amongst the scientific folk for any and all openings for the Tau Ceti mission. I doubt if Kevin and I will get to go. With only one ship now going to the stars in the foreseeable future, I don’t see how two post grads stand a chance of making the cut. Damn.

Oh, Dad! At least you’ll be home soon, and Kevin and I will be married, and I’ll finally have a family of my own again. I guess it won’t be so bad finishing my doctoral work while I wait for the next starship. Maybe I’ll even have my own dad as one of my professors.

I was home to see Grandma and Grandpa last week. Grandma is so excited! I think you’re actually going to get your own parade, Dad. I thought I’d better warn you now. Grandpa doesn’t show it like Grandma does, but I know he’s so proud of you! It isn’t every man who has a son who went to the stars. And it isn’t every girl who has a father who did it either.

And yes, I have watched the Columbus return through the telescope. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

I love you,
Dorothy

Transmitted: April, 2113

Dear Dorothy,

This is it! The last letter! Next time we’ll be together! We’re all so eager to get back that we’ve had everything packed up all set to go for a week now. And we won’t hit Luna until next month!

I sent a message to Doctor Haan and accepted his offer, and at a significantly higher salary than he mentioned the first time. But I won’t be starting at the University until the fall of 2114, so I’ll have all kinds of time to spend with you that first year I’m back.

Dorothy, there’s so much I want to show you, so much that I want to tell you! I want to take you to that place in the mountains where your mother and I wanted to live. I want to show you the places where we liked to take walks, the spot where I asked her to marry me, the little park where we had our wedding. Honey, I want you to get to know your dad, and I want so very much to get to know you. I missed so much, and I want to make up for it. I hope you don’t get upset when I try to do it all at once.

And I want to meet Kevin. It’s going to be so wonderful to come back and reclaim my daughter, and then a few weeks later have a son-in-law, too. I’ve asked around among the others here and it looks like I’m the only one coming back to a child he never got to know. A few say they’re going to look up old girlfriends, and some are going to look up old mates that they divorced just like I did.

I’ll be home soon my darling daughter.

Love,
Dad

Transmitted: June, 2113

Dear Dad,

I don’t know what to say, Dad. I’m so sorry. You know what happened, of course. They moved up the launch date for Magellan by a year. Kevin and I got the news in late April. And we both made the final cut. We had a small wedding ceremony at Grandma and Grandpa’s, but I’m sure you’ve seen recordings by now.

It was a terrible decision to make, Dad. I spent a lot of nights crying. Kevin, God bless him, didn’t put any pressure on me about it. He said that he knew how important you are to me and that if I decided to stay, he’d stick with me, and we’d all wait together for the next ship out.

But there might not be any more, Dad. We just couldn’t be sure of ever getting the chance to go again. You told me once that exploring new worlds with the person you love is the best of all possible dreams. I couldn’t give that up, Dad.

I almost did, though. But then Grandpa took me into the backyard and we looked at the stars and he said that he knew what a big decision it was. But he also said that he knew his son, and that if anyone would understand what I was going through, you would. And he told me that you could never have asked for a finer daughter, and that you would be proud of me no matter what I decided.

And he said that you would wait for me.

Will you Daddy? Will you wait?

I am so terribly sorry that things worked out this way.

I don’t know what else to say. Please wait for me, Dad. Please forgive me. I’ll name a planet after you.

I love you Dad,
Dorothy

Transmitted: August, 2113

Dear Dorothy,

I love you, honey. Of course I’ll wait.

Your grandfather met my shuttle at Luna City and told me the news right away. He loves you very much, Dorothy, and if I wasn’t inclined to understand on my own, he was prepared to convince me. But I do understand. Still, I cried on his shoulder all the way back to Earth. After all this time I never realized how much I still needed my dad.

Your grandmother couldn’t believe how young I looked. My biological age is forty-three, but she thinks I’m only thirty.

And I survived the party. I looked surprised, just like you wanted me to. It was actually a lot of fun. Everyone in town turned out, and I even enjoyed being in the parade.

I visited your mother’s grave, but my thoughts there are private. I bought her a bigger headstone, though.

My mom put together a huge electronic scrapbook all about you. It’s probably got over a hundred hours worth of stuff on it. You are so beautiful. You were a beautiful baby and you’re a beautiful woman. And Kevin makes a handsome husband.

I know, honey, that you had no other real choice. I was faced with an even harder decision myself when I went to the stars. I went in search of a dream and found I’d left half of it behind. But you get to have the entire dream.

I decided that I will start teaching this fall after all. I don’t need a year off now.

Your grandpa and I once again spend time in the backyard, looking at the stars and talking about visiting them. But now we have a little girl who is on her way to do just that.

I love you. I’ll wait.

Love,
Dad

“Love, Dad” originally published by Analog, March, 1992

Jeffery D. Kooistra is the author of one novel, Dykstra’s War, a couple dozen shorter works of science fiction, and around three score nonfiction pieces as one of the two authors of The Alternate View column in Analog Science Fiction & Fact. He is a former Associate Editor of Infinite Energy Magazine and continues to stay active in the study of alternative physics, the paranormal, and the just plain weird.

He resides in Grand Rapids, Michigan with his wife and three children, two dogs, and an ever changing menagerie of lesser pets.