Computer: Regeneration cycle incomplete.
Kim: When I checked the overnight sensor logs this little surprise was waiting for me.
Janeway: Maybe I'm not quite awake, but it looks like it's over one hundred kilometers wide.
Kim: One hundred twenty. At first I thought it was an asteroid cluster, until I picked up a residual warp signature.
Seven: It was a Borg vessel. There are tetryon particles in the debris consistent with the atmosphere inside a Cube.
Chakotay: Any idea what destroyed it?
Seven: We would need to run close range scans of the hull fragments.
Kim: Unless we alter course, we'll get our chance. The debris field's directly ahead.
Janeway: Then I suggest we cut a wide berth. Chances are the Borg will send more vessels to investigate. Alter course to avoid the debris. If that's all.
Neelix: Ah, one other piece of business, Captain. It seems we had another incident in the Mess hall last night.
Torres: Return of the Midnight Snacker?
Neelix: I'm afraid so.
Janeway: Casualties?
Neelix: A leg of Kelaran wildebeest I'd prepared for Ensign Ryson's birthday. Since Commander Tuvok has been unable to round up any suspects, I'd like to ask that stronger measures be taken.
Tuvok: Perhaps an armed security detail.
Neelix: I'd like to ask permission to replicate some locking mechanisms for the cabinet doors.
Janeway: Granted. Dismissed.
Seven: Naomi Wildman, subunit of Ensign Samantha Wildman. State your intentions.
Naomi: I
Seven: Very well. You leave me no choice but to report your activities to the Captain.
Naomi: Please don't. I was just observing you.
Seven: Explain.
Naomi: Well, Neelix told me that the Borg do a lot of things they do because they're trying to be perfect. And even though you're not really a drone anymore, you still try to be perfect. Don't you?
Seven: Correct.
Naomi: Well, if I can learn to be perfect, too, then Captain Janeway will have to make me her Bridge Assistant.
Seven: No such rank exists aboard this vessel.
Naomi: Not yet.
Seven: And you hope to achieve this goal by emulating me?
Naomi: Are you mad?
Seven: No. There are many on this crew that would benefit from your example.
Naomi: So you'll teach me?
Seven: Your objective is admirable. However, your neocortical development is incomplete. You would require several months of accelerated growth in a Borg maturation chamber.
Naomi: Oh, I don't think I like the sound of that.
Seven: Then I suggest that you
Seven: Hey.
Naomi: Hi.
Seven: I'm bored. Let's do something fun.
Naomi: Like what?
Seven: Swimming?
Naomi: Oh, I'm not allowed to go swimming without my mom.
Seven: Do you like Kadis-kot?
Naomi: Love it.
Seven: Come on!
Naomi: I'll be Bridge Assistant for a while, then I'll be promoted to Ensign. It'll be Lieutenant after that, and by the time we reach the Alpha Quadrant, Captain Wildman. Green, grid fourteen four.
Seven: Kadis-kot! I win.
Naomi: You're really good at this game.
Seven: You want a rematch?
Naomi: Sure.
Seven: Captains don't have much time to play, you know.
Naomi: That's okay. I'll be pretty busy by then. Want to hear the rules of First Contact?
Seven: No.
Naomi: How about the suborders of the Prime Directive? I know all forty seven of them.
Seven: You study too much, Naomi, just like my brother.
Naomi: I didn't know you had a brother.
Seven: Twelve of them.
Naomi: Twelve?
Seven: Nine older and three younger. We play Kadis-kot all the time.
Naomi: I only have my mom and Neelix to play with, when they're not working.
Seven: You must get lonely.
Naomi: A little. You get used to it. You adapt.
Seven: Adapt?
Naomi: You know, like the Borg.
Seven: Borg. I hate Borgs.
Naomi: You do?
Seven: Yeah, they're mean.
Torres: Torres to Seven of Nine. Please report to Engineering.
Seven: It's your move.
Torres: Seven, respond.
Seven: I am on my way, Lieutenant. Naomi Wildman.
Naomi: Yes?
Seven: What am I doing here?
Naomi: We're playing Kadis-kot. Seven?
Torres: Take a look at this, will you? I'm picking up an energy signal in the lower subspace bands, and if I'm not mistaken it's got a Borg modulation.
Seven: You are correct. It is Borg. I believe it's a neural interlink frequency.
Torres: A what?
Seven: A frequency that integrates the minds of Borg drones.
Torres: Can you pinpoint the origin?
Seven: I will try.
Torres: No offense, Seven, but you look terrible.
Seven: I am not well. I experienced a brief lapse in memory and I am disoriented.
Torres: Maybe you should get to Sickbay.
Seven: No. This interlink frequency could explain my
Seven: Do'Raq Merash.
Torres: I beg your pardon?
Seven: I am the son of K'vok! And you, what House are you from?
Torres: Is this some kind of a joke?
Seven: You wear the uniform of a Starfleet P'Cha! What kind of a warrior are you?
Torres: Tom put you up to this, didn't he? Well, it didn't work.
Seven: Come, warrior, let me look at you.
Torres: Enough, Seven.
Seven: Your blood is sweet!
Torres: Torres to Security. Get somebody down here right now.
Seven: You are strong. You will make an excellent mate.
Torres: Get the hell away from me!
Seven: You wish to prove yourself in battle.
Janeway: Report.
Chakotay: Seven of Nine attacked B'Elanna in Engineering. She's on deck nine, section twenty three.
Janeway: Forcefields. Don't tell me those two have actually come to blows.
Janeway: Bridge to Tuvok. Seven's been contained. Deck ten, section thirty two.
Tuvok: Acknowledged. We're nearing her position.
Tuvok: Seven?
Seven: Somebody's hurt and he needs help. Did I do something bad?
Tuvok: Who are you?
Seven: My name's Maryl. Are you a Vulcan?
Tuvok: Computer, deactivate forcefield. Give me the phaser.
Seven: You are not a physician, Commander. The logical course of action would be to take him to the infirmary.
Tuvok: Maryl?
Seven: Subaltern Lorot, Vulcan High Command. May I be of assistance?
Tuvok: Yes. Please accompany me to Sickbay.
Seven: Certainly. Clearly he was attacked. I suggest we use caution. PetaQ! You will drown in your own blood.
Tuvok: Keep moving.
Janeway: Seven.
Seven: Captain, why am I here?
Janeway: You've been unconscious for nearly two hours. We believe you're experiencing a neurological disorder.
Seven: Voices, I hear voices. They are agitated, chaotic. Too many voices.
Seven: Too many voices.
Emh: The cortical inhibitor is destabilizing. I'm increasing the neurotransmitter levels. It's working. Do you still hear the voices?
Seven: They are fading. They are gone.
Janeway: All right. Let's see what we can do to keep them from coming back. What's the last thing you remember?
Seven: I was in Engineering, assisting Lieutenant Torres.
Tuvok: You have no recollection of a confrontation with B'Elanna?
Seven: Confrontation?
Emh: I'm not sure why, but you seem to be manifesting personalities other than your own.
Janeway: Naomi Wildman claims the two of you played together for nearly an hour this afternoon.
Tuvok: You also attacked Lieutenant Torres. She told us you called yourself Son of K'vok and that you initiated a Klingon mating ritual.
Seven: I have no memory of those events.
Emh: Come look at this.
Seven: Doctor.
Emh: This is your neural pattern. The memory engrams and synaptic pathways that define you as an individual. Unfortunately, you're not alone. Thirteen new neural patterns have emerged in your cerebral cortex. Klingon, Vulcan, Terrelian, Human and several others I can't identify.
Seven: How?
Emh: They're coming from within you. During your time with the Borg, the Collective assimilated hundreds of different species. All of those neural patterns were integrated into the Hive Mind.
Seven: Of course.
Emh: That means they're in your mind too, stored within your cortical implants. Dormant until now.
Janeway: From what we can tell, the various neural patterns are surfacing randomly.
Emh: In essence, you've developed the Borg equivalent of Multiple Personality Disorder.
Seven: Can you correct the malfunction?
Emh: The cortical inhibitor is suppressing the effect, but it's only a temporary measure.
Seven: Lieutenant Torres detected a Borg interlink frequency. It could be causing my cortical implants to malfunction.
Tuvok: The signal appears to be emanating from the Borg debris field we discovered this morning.
Janeway: Maybe we should jump to warp, try to get out of range.
Seven: The signal permeates subspace. We cannot avoid it.
Emh: Our only hope is to terminate the signal at its point of origin.
Janeway: Set a course for the debris field. When we arrive we may need your help. Feel up to it?
Seven: Yes, Captain.
Janeway: Keep a close eye on her, Doctor, in case she has any more unexpected visitors.
Emh: Has any drone ever experienced symptoms like these before?
Seven: The Collective does not tolerate imperfection. Any drone with a malfunction as serious as mine would be destroyed immediately.
Emh: Lucky for you, this crew is a little more tolerant.
Neelix: Oh, there you are. Lieutenant Torres tells me you're under the weather.
Seven: Correct.
Neelix: Well, is there anything your Morale officer can do to help? Assignments you need me to finish while you recuperate?
Seven: No.
Neelix: I have some wonderful medicinal teas. Maybe I could prepare one for you?
Emh: Talaxian homeopathy. I don't think we're quite that desperate yet.
Neelix: How about if I make one of your favorite nutritional supplements?
Seven: Your concern has been noted. The Doctor will inform you when I am functional again.
Neelix: Right. Sorry. Oh! Ah, I almost forgot. It's from Naomi Wildman. It's a drawing of Voyager, or maybe it's an asteroid belt. I'm not sure. Naomi thought it might make you feel better.
Seven: Tell her thank you.
Emh: I suspected as much. There were several interruptions in your regeneration cycle. Eighteen minutes, five minutes, one hour.
Seven: I don't recall them.
Emh: Let's examine your neural function logs. Low serotonin levels during regeneration, that's normal. But look at these spikes in the pre-frontal synapses. They appear only seconds before you left the alcove. You were sleepwalking.
Seven: I don't remember entering this data file.
Emh: Looks like we found the identity of the Midnight Snacker. I'm sure Mister Neelix will be relieved.
Seven: Personal log, Ensign Stone, Stardate 52188.7. I just completed my first week of active duty. It was a nightmare. After four years at the Academy I thought I was ready for anything, but Captain Blackwood runs a tight ship, and he seems to take special pleasure in tormenting new recruits. The First Officer tells me not to take it personally, but it's hard to be objective when
Seven: Blackwood. Captain of the Federation Starship Tombaugh. The Borg assimilated that vessel thirteen years ago.
Emh: The individual who made this recording must have been a member of the crew.
Seven: One of my victims.
Emh: Here's another log entry. This one encoded for transmission.
Seven: Hi. Guess who? I know I promised to write you every day but that's simply not enough. How about once in the morning when I resuscitate and once at night before I go into torpor, and I'll think about you non-stop in between. Wait, I've got a better idea. Why don't you leave your circle and visit the colony? You'd love it here, so
Emh: Anything familiar?
Seven: I helped to assimilate thousands of individuals. I do not remember each of their names.
Emh: Seven, you were a Borg drone who's now becoming an individual. That's practically unheard of. There's bound to be rough spots along the way. We just have to get past them.
Chakotay: Bridge to Seven of Nine. We're approaching the debris field.
Seven: Acknowledged.
Janeway: Survivors?
Tuvok: None.
Chakotay: Any sign of Borg vessels?
Paris: No, sir. We're the first ones here.
Kim: I'm picking up the source of the interlink frequency. Bearing oh two seven mark three.
Janeway: On screen. Magnify.
Seven: It's a Borg vinculum.
Chakotay: Vinculum?
Seven: The processing device at the core of every Borg vessel. It interconnects the minds of all the drones. It purges individual thoughts and disseminates information relevant to the Collective.
Janeway: It brings order to chaos.
Seven: Precisely.
Janeway: Looks like this one has established a link to your cortical implant.
Seven: I believe it has identified me as an errant drone. It is attempting to reintegrate me into the Collective. The Vinculum is malfunctioning. It is sending me erratic commands.
Tuvok: Bringing chaos to order.
Seven: Yes.
Janeway: Can you sever the link?
Seven: Not without risking permanent damage to my own systems. The Vinculum must be taken offline. Permission to beam it aboard for analysis. I have worked with this technology before. I may be able to disable it.
Janeway: We're talking about the heart of a Borg cube. I'd rather not take it inside my ship. Can you disable it remotely?
Seven: Yes, but I would need several days. The Borg may return by then. I recommend we take the Vinculum and leave this region immediately.
Janeway: Tuvok, prepare to beam it to Engineering. Erect a level ten forcefield and maintain constant surveillance. The moment it poses a threat, send it back into space. Tom, as soon as it's aboard, get us out of here. Warp nine.
Paris: Aye, Captain.
Janeway: I understand what you're going through, and I want to help you in every way I can, but the safety of this crew is my first responsibility. We haven't had the best of luck with the Borg.
Seven: Nor have I.
Torres: Let's keep an eye on those antigrav struts. Boylen, lock out all primary command consoles and reroute transporter controls to main Engineering.
Boylen: Yes, Lieutenant.
Emh: Seven?
Seven: The voices. I hear them.
Emh: It's your proximity to the Vinculum. The link is stronger here. I'm adjusting your neurotransmitter levels. You'd better get started.
Seven: Don't worry, Lieutenant. The Son of K'vok will not be joining us.
Torres: Glad to hear it. Does this qualify as our second date?
Emh: Just think of me as your chaperone.
Torres: So, where's the off switch?
Seven: The Vinculum is equipped with many safeguards. I will need to access its transneural matrix and disable it directly.
Torres: I'm reading a power surge.
Seven: It's a normal response to my intrusion. Don't be alarmed. Curious. I'm detecting an organism within the Vinculum. It appears to be a viral agent.
Emh: Let's see it. It's a synthetic pathogen. The virus was originally a biological agent but it's mutated. It's attacking the Vinculum's programs as it would living cells.
Torres: An organism that attacks technology?
Seven: The Cube was infected three days ago, shortly after assimilating an alien shuttlecraft. Species 6339. They were the last ones to come in contact with the cube.
Emh: Looks like we found our Typhoid Mary.
Seven: Species 6339, Humanoid. Warp-capable. Origin, grid one two four, octant twenty two theta. They first encountered the Borg approximately four years ago. Since that time, eleven billion individuals have been assimilated. Three days ago, the Collective detected one of their last surviving shuttlecraft. A Cube was sent to intercept it.
Emh: We believe the virus was carried within their bodies. Once they were assimilated, it spread to the Vinculum.
Seven: The drones aboard no doubt experienced symptoms similar to my own. It is no surprise they destroyed themselves.
Janeway: I'd like to find species 6339. They may be able to help us treat you. Begin long range Astrometric scans. See if they have any more vessels in this region.
Seven: Yes, Captain. I've already begun a spatial diagn. My, my, my, look at the size of that thing. This viewscreen. It's got to be one of the biggest I've ever seen. I'll give you twenty bars of latinum for it.
Emh: I think the inhibitor's gone offline. Would you come here, please?
Seven: Be quiet. Can't you see I'm in the middle of a deal? Name your price, Captain?
Janeway: Janeway. And you are?
Seven: Daimon Torrot.
Janeway: You're Ferengi.
Seven: Of course I'm Ferengi. Is that some kind of insult about the size of my ears?
Janeway: No, not at all. I'd be happy to negotiate with you, but first we have to get you to Sickbay.
Seven: Sickbay? What for?
Janeway: Because you're ill.
Seven: I've never felt better.
Janeway: Doctor.
Emh: I'm afraid you've contracted a nasty strain of the Ankaran flu. We've been treating you several days. Remember?
Seven: No.
Emh: Short term memory loss. It's one of the symptoms. Don't worry, it isn't life threatening, but we'll need to treat you. In Sickbay.
Seven: What is this treatment going to cost me?
Emh: It's free of charge.
Seven: Free?
Janeway: Yes.
Seven: You know, I have been having a nagging pain in my lower left lobe, and while you're at it why don't you run a complete tricardial diagnostic. The Ferengi Health Commission's trying to revoke my trading license.
Seven: Impressive vessel, Captain. Galaxy class?
Janeway: Intrepid.
Seven: Ah. Ah, and here we are in the much talked-about Sickbay. Not exactly state of the medical art now, is it?
Emh: What do you mean?
Seven: You're low on biobeds, terrible lighting, obsolete instruments. Lucky for you, I know a medical supplier that can spruce this place up in a nanosecond, and I'll even drop my commission to a mere thirty percent?
Emh: How generous of you. Computer, activate forcefield.
Seven: Forcefield? You said I wasn't contagious.
Emh: It's for your own safety. I've set the cortical inhibitor to maximum but it is no longer suppressing the effects. These personalities are going to keep surfacing.
Seven: I've been kidnapped!
Janeway: Even more reason to shut down the Vinculum as soon as we can.
Emh: Even if we do break the link, it may be too late. Seven's own neural pattern is destabilizing. It could be lost.
Seven: Please help me. I'm looking for my son Gregory Bergan, Lieutenant Bergan. Have you seen him?
Janeway: No, I'm afraid not.
Seven: From the starship Melbourne.
Janeway: Melbourne?
Seven: I was supposed to meet him at Wolf 359, but Starfleet sent out a warning that the Borg were attacking that sector. It was too late for us to turn back. We were caught in a terrible battle. My ship was badly damaged. We had to leave on escape pods. I never found out what happened to Gregory. Please, I haven't heard from him in over three days. Could you check with Starfleet Headquarters?
Janeway: I'll see what I can do.
Seven: Thank you, Captain. If you do speak with him, could you tell him that his mother is all right and if he could pos... Captain.
Janeway: Seven?
Seven: Yes. The Vinculum?
Janeway: We're preparing to shut it down right away. I'll give the order as soon as Torres is ready.
Seven: How long was I absent?
Janeway: About twenty minutes.
Seven: How many?
Janeway: Two. One of whom wanted to acquire half the items on the ship. Daimon Torrot, I believe.
Seven: Species 180, Ferengi.
Janeway: Yes. The other was a woman whose son was lost in a Borg attack. You'll get through this, Seven.
Seven: I do not share your optimism.
Seven: When you took me from the Borg and began to turn me into an individual, I found the silence of my own mind difficult to bear. I missed the voices of the Collective. But now that I am an individual, those same voices frighten me. Captain, I don't know if I can tolerate this condition much longer. My courage is insufficient.
Janeway: Your job is to keep trying to hold on even when you think you can't. Leave the rest to me and the crew.
Chakotay: Meet anyone interesting?
Janeway: Just finished swapping jokes with a Bolian manicurist. Before that, I was debating the finer points of temporal physics with a Krenim scientist. Twelve new personalities have surfaced in the past hour alone. Seven's having a rough time of it. The Doctor had to sedate her.
Chakotay: How's the Captain holding up?
Janeway: I've been better, Chakotay. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if my First Officer was right all along.
Chakotay: About what?
Janeway: You always said that bringing Seven into the fold might be impossible.
Chakotay: You can take the Borg out of the Collective, but. I don't believe that. Not anymore. I didn't think she'd last a day, much less a year. I'd say you've proven me wrong.
Torres: Torres to Bridge. We're ready to begin disabling the Vinculum.
Janeway: Proceed.
Torres: Target the transneural matrix. Stand by to initiate the dampening field on my mark. Three, two, one, mark. Its power output is dropping.
Emh: Doctor to bridge. It seems to be working. Her neural pattern is stabilizing.
Torres: Power output is down to seventy seven percent. Seventy one percent. Wait a second. It's increasing.
Tuvok: I'm refocusing the dampening field.
Torres: It's still increasing.
Tuvok: The Vinculum is rerouting its internal circuitry. It's adapting.
Emh: Engineering! Her synaptic pathways are destabilizing. Abort the procedure!
Seven: Help me!
Emh: Abort!
Tuvok: Stand by, Doctor. Power output at ninety eight percent. The forcefield is collapsing.
Torres: Transfer emergency power.
Tuvok: It won't work, Lieutenant. We must abort. Tuvok to bridge.
Tuvok: The procedure was unsuccessful. The Vinculum has returned to full power.
Janeway: Acknowledged. Doctor, report.
Emh: Seven's neural pattern has disappeared, Captain. It appears that the other patterns have taken over completely. We've lost her.
Janeway: Captain's log, supplemental. Long range sensors have detected a vessel belonging to species 6339. We've set a course to intercept them in the hopes they can help us restore Seven of Nine.
Emh: I've managed to stabilize her primary cortical functions but the woman in Sickbay is not Seven of Nine. Not any more. New personalities are emerging every few seconds now. She can't finish a sentence before the next one rears its head. It's creating an incredible strain on her cerebral cortex. If we don't deactivate the Vinculum soon, we may never get her back.
Janeway: Tuvok?
Tuvok: Lieutenant Torres is taking measures to prevent the Vinculum from adapting, but there's no guarantee she'll succeed.
Emh: Captain, I've exhausted every viable treatment in my database.
Tuvok: Then logic dictates we go beyond medical science. I will attempt to mind meld with Seven of Nine.
Emh: A mind meld? You consider that a viable treatment?
Tuvok: Seven's neural pattern, her sense of self, is immersed in chaos. I will attempt to isolate her true self and guide it to the surface.
Janeway: It's dangerous enough to meld with one person, let alone hundreds of different personalities.
Emh: It's too risky.
Tuvok: The risk is mine to take.
Janeway: I'm aware of that, but is this our only option?
Tuvok: I believe it is, Captain.
Janeway: How long would you need to prepare?
Emh: Captain, you can't actually be considering this Vulcan mumbo jumbo.
Tuvok: I will require two hours of meditation.
Janeway: Begin immediately. Report to Sickbay when you're ready.
Janeway: You said it yourself. We've exhausted every medical treatment.
Emh: I just hope I don't find myself with a second patient.
Chakotay: Captain to the bridge.
Janeway: On my way.
Janeway: Commander?
Chakotay: It's them. Species 6339.
Kim: Their vessel is well-armed, Captain. I'm picking up twenty two phaser cannons on the aft section alone.
Janeway: Hail them.
Kim: They're responding.
Janeway: On screen. I'm Captain Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. We recently found a piece of Borg technology. It's been infected with a viral agent we believe was transmitted by your
Ven: The Vinculum, you have it?
Janeway: Yes.
Ven: You've made a terrible mistake, Captain.
Janeway: A weapon?
Ven: Yes. Since the Borg decimated our world, we've been looking for ways to retaliate.
Janeway: So you created a virus to infect their technology.
Ven: Thirteen of my people were injected with the virus. They allowed themselves to be assimilated so that the virus would spread to this Vinculum. Once another Borg ship had retrieved it they would be infected as well. Then another Cube, and another. We had the opportunity to infect dozens, even hundreds of Borg vessels until you interfered. Why?
Janeway: Your virus has had one unexpected casualty. A member of my crew.
Ven: It wasn't designed to infect other species.
Janeway: She's Borg.
Chakotay: We liberated her from the Collective over a year ago. She's an individual now.
Janeway: We were hoping you could help us treat her.
Ven: We designed that virus to destroy Borg, Captain. We never considered a treatment. I'm afraid your drone won't survive. But we must return the Vinculum to the debris field immediately. If the Borg arrive first, we'll have lost our chance, and those thirteen people will have died in vain.
Janeway: All right. We'll return it to you, but first we need to try to save our crew member. We think we have a way to counteract the Vinculum's effects. B'Elanna?
Torres: I'm going to try to remodulate our dampening field to compensate
Ven: We don't have time for this. The Vinculum, Captain.
Janeway: I can't give it to you. Not yet.
Ven: You scanned our vessel, you're aware of our firepower.
Janeway: You could undoubtedly do significant damage to Voyager, and to the Vinculum. Is that what you want?
Ven: The Vinculum survived the destruction of one ship. What makes you so sure it won't survive another?
Seven: Doctor.
Emh: Seven. A necessary precaution. A few of your guests have been violent.
Seven: The Vinculum.
Emh: It keeps adapting. We haven't been able to shut it down. Your own neural pattern was nearly destroyed in the process. I wasn't sure I'd find you again.
Seven: I am damaged.
Emh: One of your personas didn't appreciate the restraints. She seemed intent on forcing her way to freedom.
Seven: I apologize.
Emh: It was hardly your fault. You're ill.
Seven: Irrelevant. I am Borg. I should be able to adapt.
Emh: Surprise. You aren't invincible. I suppose that's something we'll have to tackle in our next social lesson. Voices?
Seven: They're getting louder.
Emh: It won't be long before I lose you again. It's my duty as your physician to inform you of an alternative treatment.
Seven: What treatment?
Emh: Commander Tuvok has proposed a mind meld to help stabilize your neural pattern. I had a similar reaction. If you don't approve.
Seven: What is the probability of success?
Emh: I don't know. A mind meld is hardly a standard medical practice.
Seven: Are there any risks to Tuvok?
Emh: He could suffer brain damage, but he's confident he'll be able to break the meld before that happens.
Seven: Even if we do shut down the Vinculum, it may not be enough. If Tuvok can do anything to help me.
Emh: I understand.
Seven: Doctor, you have shown a great deal of patience.
Emh: Not at all.
Seven: Inform the crew that I am also grateful for their efforts.
Emh: You'll be able to tell them yourself, afterwards. Seven?
Seven: Voices!
Emh: Concentrate! Focus on the sound of my voice!
Seven: Get them out, please! I can't, I can't! No!
Janeway: Report.
Paris: The alien vessel is coming about.
Kim: They're charging weapons.
Janeway: Shields.
Emh: As if the meld weren't dangerous enough, the aliens are trying to take the Vinculum by force. Commander Chakotay is at Tactical. The Captain wants you here with Seven. This will allow me to monitor your neural activity for the duration of the meld. At the first sign of trouble.
Tuvok: You will do nothing.
Emh: I beg your pardon?
Tuvok: There will undoubtedly be many signs of trouble. You must have faith in my ability to endure them.
Emh: I'll try. I just hope my faith doesn't leave the two of you brain damaged.
Tuvok: Your concerns have been noted, Doctor.
Emh: With all of these new personalities floating around, it's a shame we can't find one for you.
Tuvok: Computer, deactivate forcefield.
Seven: Why am I tied to this bed? Please let me go. PetaQ! I'll rip out your throat, coward! Name your price. Ten bars of latinum? Twenty? This isn't medicine, it's torture! I'll sue for malpractice. I fail to see the logic in this meld, Commander.
Tuvok: My mind to your mind.
Seven: You are but one mind, confronting thousands.
Tuvok: My thoughts to your thoughts.
Seven: You will not succeed.
Tuvok: Your mind to my mind.
Seven: Let me go. The Borg are assimilating the ship! We've got to evacuate.
Tuvok: My thoughts to your thoughts.
Seven: Listen to me! They're trying to assimilate the ship.
Tuvok: My mind to your mind.
Seven: Let me go!
Tuvok: My thoughts to your thoughts.
Seven: Mommy. Mommy.
Tuvok: My mind to your mind.
Seven: Mommy.
Tuvok: My thoughts to your thoughts.
Tuvok: Seven? Seven! Seven.
Tuvok: Seven. Seven? Seven? Seven?
Seven: I'm lost. Somebody help me. Please, I don't like it here. I want to go home. I can't find my
Girl: Mommy. Please, help me. Please, I don't want to stay here, I want to go home. I don't like it here. Please, help me. I want to go home. These people are scary. Please don't go. Please, why are you leaving me here? Please! I don't like it here!
Emh: Sickbay to Engineering.
Emh: How long until the Vinculum's offline?
Torres: Two, maybe three minutes. Provided Voyager can stay in one piece for that long.
Kim: Shields down to sixty percent.
Janeway: Evasive maneuvers. Target their weapons array.
Chakotay: Targeting systems are malfunctioning.
Paris: We're losing power to main thrusters.
Kim: Shields to thirty five percent.
Janeway: Reroute all available power to shields. Chakotay, initiate manual targeting.
Torres: Torres to bridge.
Torres: The Vinculum's stopped adapting. I think the new dampening field is working. We should have it disabled in the next sixty seconds.
Computer: Warning. Neurochemical synapses are destabilizing.
Emh: Computer, increase power to the cortical inhibitors.
Computer: Unable to comply. Power transport systems are offline.
Emh: Tuvok, if you can hear me, we have to terminate the meld. Tuvok. Tuvok!
Seven: Commander. Commander!
Tuvok: Seven?
Seven: Commander.
Tuvok: Seven!
Torres: Power output's down to twenty nine percent. Twenty two. Seventeen. Bridge, we just lost the field emitters.
Janeway: We took a direct hit to the power grid. Stand by. We're switching to emergency backup.
Tuvok: Seven.
Torres: Bridge, the Vinculum's powering up again.
Janeway: The field emitters are back online. Pull the plug.
Torres: It's working. Power output down to nineteen percent. Thirteen percent.
Tuvok: Seven. Seven.
Seven: Tuvok.
Tuvok: Seven.
Torres: It's done, Captain. The Vinculum's offline.
Emh: Seven?
Seven: Yes.
Emh: We have her back, Captain.
Janeway: Hail the lead vessel. Tell them we're surrendering the Vinculum.
Kim: No response.
Janeway: Lock onto the damn thing. Beam it into space.
Chakotay: Transport complete. They're withdrawing.
Janeway: Take us out of here, Tom. Warp nine.
Paris: Yes, ma'am.
Janeway: Captain's log, stardate 52356.2. After nearly a week of regeneration Seven of Nine has finally recovered from her ordeal.
Emh: Neuroprocessor, cortical receptors, all stable. She's fit to return to duty.
Janeway: What about her other personalities? Any sign of them?.
Emh: Those neural patterns have returned to their dormant state.
Seven: The voices will not return?
Emh: I suppose that depends on your perspective. You may not hear them, but I suspect they'll always be with you.
Seven: The members of this crew put themselves at risk to help me. I am unsure how to reciprocate.
Janeway: Let's start with something small, like a recalibration of the EPS manifolds. B'Elanna's expecting you in Engineering.
Seven: I will join her shortly. There is a crew member I must see first.
Seven: These are star charts for the next three systems Voyager will pass through. Familiarize yourself with them.
Naomi: Understood.
Seven: Sociological data regarding one hundred and seventy three Delta quadrant species. Study it.
Naomi: I will.
Seven: As Bridge Assistant, you will find this information relevant.
Naomi: Consider it assimilated.
Seven: There is one more assignment. I require your assistance.
Naomi: Me?
Seven: I wish to participate in recreational activities.
Naomi: Great.
Seven: Kadis-kot. Instruct me how to play.
Naomi: I will comply.


Emh: And, since I was the only crewmember who could survive the corrosive atmosphere, it was up to me to retrieve the data module and save the day. Ah, here I am, mission accomplished. Then of course there was the perilous mission to Lav'oti V. You remember that one, don't you Mister Paris?
Paris: How could I forget.
Emh: Here you are after your unfortunate slip into the fetid mud pits of Palomar.
Paris: Hey, I was pushed.
Emh: Of course you were.
Janeway: Thank you, Doctor. We've all enjoyed your holo-images enormously.
Emh: Oh, but I haven't finished yet.
Torres: There's more?
Emh: The best is yet to come, Lieutenant. I've created a fascinating twelve part holographic essay which I call 'Under the Skin'. Humanoid anatomy as art. Let's begin with this stunning magnification of the Vulcan reproductive gland. Note the composition, the subtle variations in color.
Kim: Twenty one hundred hours, Commander. All systems reporting normal.
Chakotay: Acknowledged.
Kim: Like I said, it's twenty one hundred hours.
Chakotay: I heard you the first time, Harry.
Kim: They've been in there over an hour.
Chakotay: I'm aware of that.
Kim: Didn't the Captain ask you to rescue them after thirty minutes?
Chakotay: Harry, you and I were lucky enough to enjoy the Doctor's scintillating exhibition for two full hours. Would it really be fair of us to deny our friends the same unforgettable experience?
Kim: Of course not, sir.
Emh: Thank you. thank you for coming. We'll do it again soon. We've still got thousands of light years to while away. This could be a weekly event.
Torres: What happened to going to yellow alert after half an hour?
Tuvok: Commander Chakotay appears to have disobeyed a direct order.
Janeway: Definitely grounds for court martial.
Torres: Hey, Neelix.
Neelix: Coffee?
Paris: Oh, I could use a whole pot.
Neelix: Let me guess. The Doctor's photographic essay?
Paris: Ha! One mind-numbing image after the next.
Torres: Oh, I don't know. I thought some of those pictures were pretty funny.
Neelix: You mean like the one where Tom slipped into a mud pit?
Torres: You're famous.
Neelix: Then, of course, there's the one depicting a certain Chief Engineer with her foot stuck in a plasma injector.
Torres: What?
Paris: Really? I seem to have missed that one.
Neelix: The Doctor must have taken it out of the exhibition.
Paris: Oh, I can't wait to get my hands on it. Maybe I can distribute it to everyone's personal database.
Torres: Try it, and I'll kill you. Right after I finish deleting the Doctor's program.
Paris: What'd you put in this coffee, Neelix?
Kim: I'm reading a massive energy wave nine hundred thousand kilometers off the starboard bow, heading right for us.
Chakotay: Source?
Tuvok: Unknown.
Janeway: Shields up. Evasive maneuvers.
Kim: The wave just changed course. It seems to be tracking us!
Janeway: Go to warp eight!
Chakotay: Too late! Engines are down.
Janeway: Everybody hang on!
Janeway: All stop.
Tuvok: Shields are holding. Minor damage to the hull plating on deck fifteen.
Chakotay: No injuries.
Janeway: Stand down red alert.
Kim: Captain, when the wave hit our communications array received a download.
Chakotay: What sort of download?
Kim: I'm not sure. Lots of information. I can't decipher it, but there's an audio component.
Janeway: Let's hear it.
Chakotay: Harry, try all the standard decryption algorithms.
Janeway: It's strange. The wave followed us but it didn't cause any damage. Instead, we get a download to our database. I'd say it's a pretty good bet somebody's trying to tell us something.
Paris: The wave left a residual ion trail. We might be able to locate its point of origin.
Janeway: Set a course.
Janeway: Looks like it's taken quite a beating.
Chakotay: Lifesigns?
Kim: One. Non-humanoid. It's very faint. Probably injured.
Janeway: Beam it to Sickbay.
Tuvok: Are you sure that's wise, Captain?
Janeway: I'm betting that message we received was some sort of distress call. And if we're going to help, I'd rather do it on Voyager.
Emh: The physiology is so unusual the tricorder can't make heads or tails of it. The creature's obviously injured, but I haven't a clue how to treat it or even diagnose it.
Torres: My scans came up with something interesting, Captain. The interfaces on the alien's vessel can only be activated chemically. I'm guessing that this lifeform somehow interfaces directly with the ship's systems using biochemical secretions to give commands.
Janeway: That would explain how it can fly a ship.
Torres: I'm hoping this can also help us figure out
Emh: No! You'll hurt B'Elanna!
Torres: Get it off of me!
Janeway: Janeway to Kim. Beam the alien lifeform
Janeway: Back to it's vessel. Now!
Kim: I'm having trouble getting a lock.
Emh: It's piercing her neck!
Emh: Her heart and lungs are seriously compromised, and her kidneys are failing. The creature's also secreting some kind of paralyzing agent into her bloodstream.
Paris: How do we get it off her?
Emh: I can't remove it surgically, not without doing irreparable harm to B'Elanna's organs.
Janeway: Can we get a lock on the creature, transport it off?
Emh: Not unless we want to beam B'Elanna's cardiopulmonary system along with it.
Paris: We have to do something.
Emh: No one is disputing that, Mister Paris. The question is what? If I'm to have any hope of devising a treatment I'll need to brush up on my exobiology.
Paris: What do you mean, brush up? Don't you have all this information in your database?
Emh: I may be a walking medical encyclopedia, but even I don't know everything. My matrix simply isn't large enough.
Janeway: Maybe we can do better than giving you a crash course in exobiology. Maybe we can provide you with a consultant.
Emh: I'd be delighted, but how?
Janeway: By isolating the computer's exobiology data files and merging them into a an interactive matrix.
Paris: A hologram.
Janeway: Exactly.
Emh: That may not be as simple as it sounds. It would need to be nearly as sophisticated as I am. Tactile interfaces, personality subroutines.
Paris: Harry could do it.
Janeway: Search the database for the leading exobiologist. If you want to add a personality, it may as well be based on a real person. I'll have Harry meet you in holodeck two.
Emh: Stay with her and monitor her vital signs. Call me if there's any change.
Kim: I still have my doubts about this, Doc. It's one thing to create a simple hologram, but you're trying to merge an extensive database with an interactive matrix.
Emh: Don't be a pessimist, Mister Kim. Together we'll create a masterpiece of holographic art.
Kim: A subject for your next slide show?
Emh: Perhaps.
Kim: Can't wait.
Kim: What's the name of that exobiologist you chose?
Emh: Crell Moset.
Kim: Here's the file.
Emh: Let's start with the parameters for physical appearance.
Kim: Computer, display a holographic simulation of Crell Moset.
Kim: Have you mentioned to anyone else that this guy's a Cardassian?
Emh: What difference does it make?
Kim: Maybe you haven't heard. They're not the friendliest folks in the galaxy.
Emh: I don't care if he's the nastiest man who ever lived, as long as he can help us save B'Elanna.
Kim: Good point. Computer, transfer all reference medical files to the simulation.
Computer: Transfer complete.
Kim: Now installl personality subroutines and voice approximation.
Computer: Installlation complete.
Emh: Doctor Moset, I'd like to consult with you about an alien lifeform.
Moset: I am Crell Moset, Chief Exobiology specialist Cardassia Prime certified to perform all surgical procedures.
Emh: This is going well. What's wrong?
Kim: Some sort of overload in the interactive matrix.
Emh: Can you clear it up?
Kim: I'm trying. Computer, installl a recursive algorithm.
Computer: Algorithm installled.
Kim: Try it again.
Emh: Doctor Moset?
Moset: My friends call me Crell.
Emh: It's a pleasure to meet you, Crell.
Moset: And you, good man. What's your name?
Emh: Actually, I'm in-between names at the moment. I'm an Emergency Medical Hologram.
Moset: Interesting.
Kim: But his friends call him Doc.
Moset: Ah-ha. May I presume?
Emh: Certainly.
Moset: So, Doc, how can an old surgeon like me help a technological marvel such as yourself?
Emh: Oh, well, I've got a patient with a rather unusual problem. She's become fused with a non-humanoid lifeform I know nothing about.
Moset: Non-humanoid exobiology happens to be one of my specialties.
Emh: That's exactly why we've created your program.
Moset: Program?
Emh: You're a hologram as well.
Moset: Interesting. I'd like to see the patient right away.
Emh: Mister Kim, would you do the honors please.
Kim: No problem. Listen, if he destabilizes again, take him offline and call me.
Emh: Understood.
Emh: Lieutenant. may I present Crell Moset?
Moset: It's a pleasure.
Paris: She's been drifting in and out of consciousness.
Emh: Don't be rude, Lieutenant.
Paris: To him? No offense, Doc, but he's just a
Emh: A brilliant scientist who's here to help us. This way, Crell.
Moset: Hmm. I can see why you're having difficulty.
Emh: It's physiology doesn't match any of the standard templates in our database.
Moset: My guess would be a cytoplasmic lifeform.
Emh: I agree. And from what I can tell it has co-opted her vital systems.
Moset: She's Klingon. No, the cranial ridges are less pronounced. Klingon-human hybrid.
Emh: Exactly. Let's hope your instincts about the creature are equally insightful.
Moset: I'm afraid this one is going to require more than a visual assessment. You have an isomolecular scanner?
Emh: No, just a standard issue Starfleet tricorder.
Moset: No wonder you're having problems making an accurate diagnosis.
Moset: I suggested an upgrade to the Starfleet people at a joint medical conference, but they assumed I was just an arrogant Cardassian trying to prove his superiority. Or maybe they thought I was a spy.
Emh: I hope you weren't too offended.
Moset: It's an unfortunate reality. Sometimes even enlightened races can't find common ground. I may be able to recalibrate this thing. There, that should help.
Emh: Amazing.
Moset: Well, someone from Starfleet appreciates me.
Janeway: I've instructed the computer to assign symbols to all the tones received in the transmission.
Chakotay: Looks like there were over ten thousand separate sounds used in this section of the message.
Janeway: It's going to be a tough code to crack.
Chakotay: Maybe we can get a little help from the alien vessel's databanks.
Janeway: Good idea. Janeway to Seven of Nine.
Seven: Yes.
Janeway: Any chance of downloading the alien's databanks?
Janeway: We're looking for anything that might help us understand their language. We don't know how much time B'Elanna has left.
Seven: We must move quickly. The vessel is on the verge of a complete systems failure.
Seven: Prepare to download the data.
Tabor: I heard the Captain.
Seven: Is there a problem?
Tabor: No. No problem.
Seven: You seem uncomfortable taking orders from me.
Tabor: It's just that I'm used to taking orders from B'Elanna, that's all. And to tell you the truth, she doesn't
Seven: Doesn't like me. Yes, I am aware of that. However, the Captain left me in charge during Lieutenant Torres' absence. Her feelings about me are irrelevant. Activate the interface transceiver. Begin the download.
Tabor: I'm picking up a fluctuation in the alien ship's power source.
Seven: It's disrupting the interface transceiver. Re-initialize.
Tabor: I'm working on it. It's systems are overloading.
Seven: Red alert.
Seven: Engineering to bridge. The alien vessel is destabilizing. It's destruction is imminent.
Janeway: Can you download the information first?
Seven: We're trying.
Kim: Captain, it's going to explode.
Janeway: Ensign, back us off.
Moset: What do we know so far?
Emh: The lifeform has taken control of her body at the autonomic level, drawing proteins from her tissues, white blood cells from her arteries.
Moset: Which can be interpreted in several ways.
Emh: A form of attack?
Moset: I find it odd that a species would evolve an attack mechanism that would leave it so vulnerable. Why not do it's damage and retreat?
Emh: A parasite, perhaps?
Moset: Yes, I think so, but not any ordinary variety. It's unlikely it could sustain itself like this over the long term.
Emh: Its own systems are damaged. It's doing this as a stopgap measure, to keep itself alive.
Moset: So the patient's heart, lungs, kidneys, they're all augmenting the alien's damaged system.
Emh: It's using B'Elanna as a life preserver.
Moset: But if it needs her to survive, it's not about to let go without a fight.
Emh: I'd like to think that's a fight you and I can win.
Moset: We do work well together. I just wish we had access to my laboratory. It has all the instrumentation we would need. Well, we'll just have to improvise.
Emh: Not necessarily. We may be able to create a reasonable facsimile of your laboratory in our holodeck.
Emh: Providing of course, you can give an accurate description.
Moset: Oh, down to the smallest detail. It's more of a home to me than my home.
Torres: Tom.
Paris: Hey, there.
Torres: I can't move.
Paris: I know, but don't worry. We'll get this thing off you. Just think, I could force you to listen to rock and roll all day and you wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.
Torres: Who's that?
Paris: Relax. He's just a hologram. A specialist in exobiology. The Doc thinks he might be able to help you.
Torres: Can't he find somebody else?
Paris: Apparently, this guy's the best. Besides, he's just a walking database.
Torres: Hologram or not, he's Cardassian. As far as I'm concerned, they're all cold-blooded killers.
Paris: I understand how you feel. Unfortunately, that cold-blooded killer may be the only one who can save your life.
Emh: Impressive. Is this where you did your work on the Fostossa virus?
Moset: No. Actually, I was on Bajor at the time, during the Occupation. A sad chapter in Cardassian history. We had no business being there, but try telling that to the politicians. When I think of the resources that were squandered, the lives that were lost.
Emh: But from what I understand, you saved thousands of lives.
Moset: In retrospect, I don't know how. The military had everything they needed but the civilian hospitals? No staff, the crudest equipment.
Emh: Don't tell me. You were forced to improvise.
Moset: Yes!
Emh: I know what that's like.
Moset: I didn't have the resources to try traditional methods, so I experimented with procedures that, that never would have occurred to me under ordinary circumstances. The discovery of the cure was almost accidental, really.
Emh: You're being modest, Crell.
Moset: No.
Emh: You made medical history. You won the Legate's Crest of Valor.
Moset: Awards aren't important, Doc. It's the work that matters.
Emh: Of course. Still, the recognition of your peers, your government. It must be very satisfying.
Moset: I'm sure you've made your share of breakthroughs.
Emh: Naturally. Unfortunately, no one from Starfleet ever hears about them. I toil in obscurity.
Moset: Why don't you show me your patient records? At least I'll know about your accomplishments.
Emh: All right.
Moset: Everything seems to be in order. Shall we get to work?
Emh: Computer, create a holographic re-creation of the alien in Sickbay.
Moset: Hand me that cortical stimulator, will you? Yes, thank you.
Janeway: Captain's log, supplemental. While the Doctor seems to be making progress, Commander Chakotay and I have hit a wall in our attempt to decipher the alien message.
Janeway: It was a distress call, right? So maybe if we retransmitted that message others of the species would realize we need their help.
Chakotay: We don't know where they are.
Janeway: We'll send it on all subspace bands. If they're out there, they'll hear it.
Chakotay: They might turn out to be unfriendly.
Janeway: The Doctor's pretty sure the alien is simply trying to survive. I agree. It'll be a difficult first contact, but we might find a way to communicate.
Chakotay: It's worth a shot.
Janeway: Tuvok, reroute auxiliary power to the deflector dish. Retransmit the alien's message on all subspace bands.
Tuvok: Aye, Captain. Deflector at full capacity.
Janeway: Chakotay.
Moset: I'm sorry. My wife tells me I'm tone deaf.
Emh: Not at all. You were right on key. If you enjoy music we can run some opera programs after we're finished.
Moset: I'd like that. I think we're ready for a look inside. Scalpel?
Emh: Forgive me for saying so, but this appears to be a rather crude instrument, especially when we have such advanced equipment at our disposal.
Moset: I often find the simplest tool is the most effective. All of our elaborate scanners and laser scalpels, they remove us from our subjects. Actually feeling the anatomy, the consistency of the internal organs. It can be very instructive. Why don't you do the honors? Make a vertical incision, say twelve centimeters, starting here.
Emh: We're hurting it.
Moset: Doctor, it's a hologram.
Emh: Of course. I guess as a hologram myself, I have a certain empathy.
Moset: Keep going.
Moset: Extraordinary. Look at that series of nodes.
Emh: They appear to be clustered along the primary nerve.
Moset: Multiple neocortices, I'd say.
Emh: Suggesting a highly intelligent species.
Moset: Yes, but also presenting us with a point of attack.
Emh: Attack?
Moset: If we induce a neurostatic shock in one of these nodes, I believe it will travel to the others. The creature will lose motor function and we'll be able to remove it.
Emh: The procedure will probably kill the creature.
Moset: Probably.
Emh: I'd like to find a way to save them both.
Moset: So would I, in an ideal situation. But we have to set priorities which, in this case, is your crew mate.
Emh: This is a sentient lifeform. For all we know it could be this species' Einstein, its Picasso.
Moset: Or he could be a psychotic criminal. The point is, we don't know, and we have choices to make.
Emh: Your program's destabilizing.
Moset: This is such poor timing.
Emh: I'll have to take you offline. But don't worry, we'll have you up and running again in no time. Computer, take Medical Consultant program offline. Doctor to Ensign Kim.
Kim: Go ahead, Doc.
Emh: Our new program's destabilizing.
Kim: I'll meet you in Sickbay. We'll try to reinitialize him there. Tabor, I could use some help.
Tabor: Yes, sir.
Kim: Try again.
Tabor: No luck.
Paris: Would it be easier if we reduced the hologram's memory load?
Kim: Maybe, but I don't want to do that unless we absolutely have to.
Torres: What's going on?
Emh: My consultant's gone offline.
Torres: The Cardassian? You can leave him off.
Emh: I'm surprised by your attitude, Lieutenant. I never took you for someone who would make generalizations based on race.
Torres: When it comes to Cardassians, I'm guilty as charged.
Emh: I understand your experience with them was unpleasant, but if you give Crell a chance, I think you'll find that he's a friendly, compassionate man. Not to mention a genius who's trying to save your life.
Torres: I'll skip the introductions if it's all the same to you.
Emh: Suit yourself. But you should know I plan on asking the Captain to keep him on as a permanent consultant.
Torres: I'm not the only one who's going to have a problem with that.
Emh: Well, you'll just have to get used to it. Who knows, you may even grow to like him.
Torres: Don't hold your breath.
Emh: How's it coming?
Kim: We're close.
Tabor: Actually, I think that should do it.
Kim: Good. Computer, reactivate Medical Consultant program beta one.
Moset: Hello again.
Tabor: My god.
Paris: What's wrong?
Tabor: That's Crell Moset.
Moset: Yes. Do I know you?
Tabor: He killed my brother, my grandfather, hundreds of people. He's a mass murderer!
Emh: You must be mistaken.
Tabor: It's no mistake. Moset performed experiments on living people. Thousands of Bajorans were killed in his so-called hospital.
Emh: Is this true?
Moset: No. No, he's. There must be some misunderstanding.
Tabor: The liar!
Paris: Whoa. Take it easy, Tabor. Whoa. He's just a hologram.
Moset: I'm upsetting him. I should go.
Emh: I'm sorry about this. Computer, transfer Medical Consultant program to holodeck two.
Tabor: I can still remember the sounds his instruments made. The screams of his patients. The smell. Chemicals and dead flesh. He operated on my grandfather. Exposed his internal organs to nadion radiation. It took six days for him to die. I promised myself I would never forget.
Emh: You were very young. Is it possible your memory of these events is inaccurate?
Tabor: My memory's just fine. He blinded people so he could study how they adapted. Exposed them to polytrinic acid just to see how long it would take for their skin to heal.
Emh: Ensign, the man you're accusing cured the Fostossa virus. He stopped an epidemic that killed thousands of Bajorans.
Tabor: By infecting hundreds of people so that he could experiment with different treatments. Old, helpless people like my grandfather, because he considered their lives worthless.
Emh: How do you know this?
Tabor: Everybody knew.
Chakotay: I remember some of the Maquis under my command talking about an infamous Cardassian doctor.
Emh: Could these simply have been rumors spread by Bajorans who hated the Cardassians?
Tabor: I was there.
Emh: I don't understand why this isn't in our database.
Chakotay: The Cardassians didn't exactly publicize their wartime medical practices. I wouldn't be surprised if the real Moset went on to live a normal life.
Emh: He's the Chairman of Exobiology at the University of Culat.
Tabor: We may not be able to do anything about the real Moset, Commander, but the program should be destroyed. Every trace of that man's research should be deleted from the database.
Torres: I had a bad feeling about that hologram the second I saw him.
Paris: Looks like your instinct was right.
Torres: I won't let him near me.
Paris: You're kidding, right?
Torres: No, I am dead serious.
Paris: B'Elanna.
Torres: If I let that pig operate on me, I'll be benefiting from other people's suffering.
Paris: You're not being rational.
Torres: I won't do it.
Emh: What's happening?
Paris: Her cytotoxin levels are going through the roof. Pulse is rapid and irregular.
Emh: No doubt you've said something to upset her.
Paris: What she's upset about, Doc, is your Cardassian buddy.
Torres: Tell him.
Emh: Tell me what?
Paris: She refuses to let him treat her.
Emh: B'Elanna, we're very close to a solution.
Torres: Do it without him.
Emh: I don't know that I can.
Torres: Find another way.
Paris: She's going into cytotoxic shock.
Emh: Two milligrams of inaprovaline. Chief Medical Officer's Log, supplemental. I've managed to stabilize Lieutenant Torres for the time being, but the matter of how to proceed with her treatment remains unresolved.
Kim: Isolate datablock oh four five nine.
Emh: Ensign? You wanted to see me?
Kim: We've been looking for evidence that might support Tabor's accusations.
Emh: Anything?
Kim: Actually, that's why we called you here. It's not looking good.
Emh: Show me.
Seven: We've been reviewing data on the Cardassian occupation of Bajor. The alleged site of Moset's crimes.
Kim: Strategic information, log entries kept in battle, sensor scans from Starfleet vessels. This, for example. Requisition records from one of Crell Moset's hospitals.
Seven: He was purchasing biochemical agents, including every known strain of the Fostossa virus.
Emh: Of course he needed samples of the virus. That's how vaccines are developed.
Kim: Take a look at the requisition orders.
Emh: Moset didn't ask for any of the enzymes normally required for synthesizing a vaccine.
Kim: It gets worse. Four days after he received the virus samples there was a minor outbreak of Fostossa in the vicinity of his hospital.
Seven: Prior to that date there had not been a single case in the entire province.
Kim: I have to report these findings to Commander Chakotay.
Seven: It is curious. The Borg are accused of assimilating information with no regard for life. This Cardassian did the same, and yet his behavior was tolerated.
Moset: Ah, there you are. I'm almost ready to perform the surgery.
Emh: Lieutenant Torres won't allow you to have anything to do with her treatment.
Moset: Because of that Bajoran?
Emh: We've gathered some corroborating evidence. It appears that he's telling the truth. You committed a series of atrocities during the Cardassian war. Thousands of Bajorans died on your surgical tables.
Moset: That's absurd. And even if it were true, I'm only a hologram, and I have no memory of those events. They're not part of my programming.
Emh: But you are the holographic representation of Crell Moset. Your program, despite all its brilliance, is based on his work. He infected patients, exposed them to polytrinic acid, mutilated their living bodies, And now we're reaping the benefits of those experiments. Medically, ethically, it's wrong.
Moset: What do you suggest we do about it?
Emh: I'm not sure. We may have to delete your program.
Moset: Delete me? What about our patient?
Emh: I suppose I'd have to try and treat her on my own.
Moset: No offense but, you need me.
Emh: I realize that.
Moset: You're a physician. You know there's always a price to pay for the advancement of medical science.
Emh: Sometimes that price is too high. Torture?
Moset: Your word, not mine. I cured the Fostossa virus, didn't I? So these experiments you say I conducted obviously helped me devise a treatment. Imagine how many lives would have been lost if I hadn't eliminated this disease.
Emh: That doesn't justify using people in laboratory experiments.
Moset: As I explained to you, during the Occupation I was forced to improvise. I used what resources I had.
Emh: And ethical considerations, they mean nothing to you?
Moset: Ethics are arbitrary. How do you suppose your own database was developed? Hmm? My God, half the medical knowledge acquired on Earth came through experiments on lower animals.
Emh: But not people.
Moset: It's convenient to draw a line between higher and lower species, isn't it?
Emh: This is the twenty fourth century, Crell. Your kind of barbarism ended a long time ago. Or at least, it should have.
Moset: What difference does it make how long ago the research occurred? What matters is that we can use it to help patients today. Now, are you going to delete my program and all of the research it contains, or are we going to use it to save B'Elanna's life?
Chakotay: Come in.
Tabor: Commander.
Chakotay: This request of yours to be relieved of duty. I won't grant it.
Tabor: I have the right to resign my commission.
Chakotay: For what reason?
Tabor: Moral objections to the ship's medical policy.
Chakotay: I understand how difficult this is for you, but you've got to let go of the past. Focus on today and today, B'Elanna's life is in danger. Everything else should be put aside.
Tabor: You don't have the right to violate the memory of my family. As long as that Cardassian hologram is online that's exactly what you're doing.
Chakotay: It's not that simple.
Tabor: It is to me. Crell Moset killed thousands of people in his hospitals. As long as we're willing to benefit from his research, we're no better than he is.
Emh: If I had weeks, or even days, maybe I could come up with an alternative. But time is of the essence, and Moset's idea will work.
Paris: Then you've got to use it.
Chakotay: Even if the Doctor could perform the surgery without Moset's help, he'd still be using the man's research. That would be going against B'Elanna's wishes.
Paris: We're talking about a woman who has alien tendrils sapping the life out of her. She's obviously not thinking straight.
Tuvok: On the contrary. Her concerns are based in logic.
Paris: Logic?
Tuvok: If the Doctor uses knowledge that Moset gained through his experiments, we would be validating his methods, inviting further unethical research.
Chakotay: We'd be setting a terrible precedent.
Paris: We're in the middle of the Delta Quadrant. Who would know?
Tuvok: We would know.
Paris: Fine. Let's just deactivate the evil hologram and let B'Elanna die. At least we'd have our morals intact.
Chakotay: Tom.
Paris: And you, Chakotay. Since when do you care what Starfleet thinks?
Chakotay: This isn't about rules and regulations. This is about doing what's right.
Paris: Spoken like a true Maquis. Well, if you'd just set aside your hatred of the Cardassians for one second
Chakotay: Enough, Lieutenant.
Janeway: All right, all right. The arguments have been made and we're running out of time. The fact is, you're both right, but when it comes down to it, the only issue I'm concerned about is the well-being of that crew member lying in Sickbay. We'll wrestle with the morality of this situation later, after B'Elanna is back on her feet. Doctor, you have my authorisation to proceed, with Moset's assistance.
Emh: Yes, Captain.
Janeway: Any consequences of this decision will be my responsibility. Dismissed.
Paris: Thanks.
Moset: Scalpel.
Tuvok: Ensign Kim, do you hear something?
Kim: Hear what?
Tuvok: A series of high frequencies. They are getting louder.
Kim: Must be those Vulcan ears of yours.
Janeway: I hear it too. Anything on sensors?
Tuvok: It appears to be an alien comm. signal. Triaxilating wavelengths.
Chakotay: Origin.
Tuvok: Unknown.
Kim: Captain, a vessel just dropped out of warp. Approaching fast off the port bow.
Janeway: On screen.
Chakotay: Can we dampen it a little?
Tuvok: Negative.
Janeway: Harry, tell me that was just their way of saying hello.
Kim: I wish I could. The universal translator doesn't have a clue.
Tuvok: Perhaps they are waiting for our response.
Janeway: Well, then, let's give them one. Open a channel, all subspace bands. This is Captain Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. We cannot interpret your message but please try to understand. We are on a peaceful mission and we intend you no harm. We have one of your kind on board our ship. It's injured, and we're attempting to provide treatment. If you can understand this
Moset: I'm ready to stimulate the primary neural pathways. Cortical probe. I'm applying it to the primary neocortex. Its motor control is weakening but not enough to release the patient. Our little friend needs a bigger jolt. I'm increasing the pulse frequency.
Emh: The synapses are degenerating. You're killing it.
Moset: Don't lose your nerve, Doctor. Not when we're this close.
Emh: Lower the pulse frequency.
Moset: If I do that the creature will regain control.
Emh: I don't care. Lower the pulse.
Moset: Doctor.
Emh: Lower the pulse frequency or I'll take your program offline.
Moset: You realize you're reducing our chances of saving her?
Emh: Not necessarily. Give me the probe. The probe, Doctor. If we apply the pulse to the secondary neocortex, we should be able to achieve the same results at a lower frequency.
Moset: Not particularly efficient, but it might prove interesting.
Tuvok: I'm reading an energy surge in their forward section.
Chakotay: Shields!
Emh: Doctor to bridge. The holodeck's going offline.
Emh: What's happening up there?
Janeway: Stand by, Doctor.
Tuvok: They've locked on to us with some sort of tractor beam. It's draining our power.
Chakotay: Reroute emergency power to the holodeck. Send an antimatter surge through the shield's matrix. See if that'll loosen their grip.
Tuvok: No effect. We do have weapons.
Janeway: No. If they wanted to destroy us, they wouldn't be using a tractor beam. They're trying to rescue their crew member.
Tuvok: Captain.
Janeway: This isn't about logic, Tuvok, it's about instinct. Now I may not speak their language, but I have a gut feeling they don't want an armed conflict any more than we do. Bridge to Doctor. What's your status?
Moset: The procedure's working.
Emh: Almost there, Captain.
Moset: It's losing motor control. The tendrils are withdrawing from her lungs, liver, kidneys. The alien's life signs are failing.
Emh: We need a substitute for the metabolic energy it was taking from B'Elanna.
Moset: Could we restore its own metabolism?
Emh: Perhaps. Give it forty milligrams of stenophyl. It's going into anaphylactic shock.
Moset: All right, increasing the dosage to sixty milligrams.
Chakotay: We've lost power on decks seven through twelve.
Tuvok: Shields are failing, Captain.
Janeway: Doctor?
Emh: Stand by, Captain.
Moset: Anaphylaxia is subsiding.
Emh: Its electrolytic reactions are increasing. Its metabolism is stabilizing on its own. Bridge, beam the lifeform to its ship.
Kim: Transport complete.
Tuvok: The alien ship is withdrawing, Captain.
Janeway: You're welcome.
Emh: I've released B'Elanna to her quarters.
Janeway: Her condition?
Emh: Stable, but her nervous system has suffered extreme trauma. She'll need time to recover. Several days, at least.
Janeway: Good work.
Emh: I should caution you, Captain. When I told her that we'd used Moset's program she was unhappy, to put it mildly. I nearly had to sedate her.
Janeway: It sounds like her Klingon temper has fully recovered.
Emh: It practically qualifies as a chronic condition.
Janeway: I'll speak to her.
Emh: There's one more topic of concern. Should we delete the program or keep Moset in our database for future emergencies?
Janeway: I'm inclined to leave this up to you, Doctor. You're the Chief Medical Officer on this ship. As far as I'm concerned, there's no one more qualified than you to make that decision.
Emh: Thank you, Captain.
Janeway: But please make it quickly. I'm eager to resolve this matter. There's been enough moral controversy on this ship for one day.
Torres: Come in.
Janeway: At ease. Interesting fragrance. I'm surprised it hasn't set off the environmental alarms.
Torres: It's a combination of mental relaxant and expeller of demons. It's an ancient Klingon remedy.
Janeway: Feeling any better?
Torres: I'm alive.
Janeway: I hope you can understand why I went against your wishes, B'Elanna. Losing you was unacceptable. I know you're angry, but we need to put this behind us. Understood?
Torres: Is that an order?
Janeway: Yes.
Torres: You can't order someone to get rid of an emotion, Captain.
Janeway: And what emotion is that?
Torres: You had no right to make that decision for me!
Janeway: I'm the Captain. You're my crewman. I did what I thought best. I get the feeling there are still a few demons in the air. Let's hope this does the trick, huh?
Moset: Doc, how's our patient?
Emh: Recuperating.
Moset: We did it.
Emh: Yes, we did.
Moset: A celebration is in order. How about listening to that opera you promised me? Oh, you're er, still wrestling with your ethical subroutines. Take my advice. It's a waste of time. What's important is that we saved two lives today.
Emh: I'm not concerned with today. It's tomorrow I'm worried about. Captain Janeway has left your future in my hands. She believes that, as Voyager's Chief Medical Officer, it's up to me to decide whether your program remains in our database.
Moset: Personally, I predict a long and fruitful collaboration between us.
Emh: Oh?
Moset: Think about what we accomplished in the last twenty four hours. Our first case was a triumph. Both patients are thriving, and we advanced the frontiers of medical science. I've already outlined a paper that you and I will one day present to the Federation Medical Academy. Total Systemic Invasion of a Klingon-Human Hybrid by a Cytoplasmic Pseudoparasite. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?
Emh: Are we also going to tell them where you honed your surgical techniques? A footnote, perhaps. For further details, see Cardassian death camps.
Moset: Those techniques were crucial this morning. Where was your sarcasm then?
Emh: I didn't come here to debate the issue with you, Crell. I came here to inform you of my decision. It is my judgment that the Medical Consultant Program and all the algorithms contained therein shall be deleted from the database. In light of recent evidence I cannot in good conscience utilize research that was derived from such inhuman practices.
Moset: In good conscience? What about the well-being of your crew? You're confronted by new forms of life every day, many of them dangerous. You need me. Delete my program and you violate the first oath you took as a physician. Do no harm.
Emh: Do no harm. You have no right to say those words. Computer.
Moset: You can erase my program, Doctor, but you can never change the fact that you've already used some of my research. Where was your conscience when B'Elanna was dying on that table? Ethics? Morality? Conscience? Funny how they all go out the airlock when we need something. Are you and I really so different?
Emh: Computer, delete Medical Consultant Program and all related files.


Janeway: Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris. I hereby reduce you to the rank of Ensign, and I sentence you to thirty days solitary confinement. Take Ensign Paris to the brig.
Paris: I know the way.
Paris: Brig.
Paris: One, two, three
Paris: Ninety eight, ninety nine, one hundred.
Neelix: Staying in shape?
Paris: Oh, yeah. I do it every time I'm in jail.
Neelix: Well, I hope all that exercise gave you an appetite.
Paris: Leola root stew again? That's the third time this week. Can't you just replicate me a pizza?
Neelix: Sorry, Tom. Basic nutrition only. Captain's orders.
Paris: Bread and water, huh? Let's have it.
Neelix: I got you the PADD you asked for.
Paris: Oh, thanks. So, did you ask the warden about those holodeck privileges?
Neelix: She said, and I quote, tell Mister Paris this is punishment, not shore leave.
Paris: It was worth a try.
Neelix: Well, see you next meal.
Paris: Wait. Leaving already? Pull up a chair, stay a while.
Neelix: Sorry. No non-essential conversation with the prisoner.
Paris: Did the words cruel and unusual mean anything to her? I'm telling you, Neelix, the inmates are getting restless. She's going to have a full-blown prison riot on her hands.
Paris: Begin letter. Dear Father. Pause and erase. Begin. To Admiral Paris. Pause and erase. Begin. Hey, Dad, long time no see. Chances are you'll never receive this letter, but in case you do, there's a few things I wanted to say. First of all, bad news. Er, I'm in jail again. Wait, keep listening, don't turn this off. I want you to know how I ended up in here because it's not what you think. It all started on a morning I was doing something you would find a complete waste of time.
Paris: Captain Proton to Buster Kincaid. I've destroyed Doctor Chaotica's mind control machine and I'm on my way back to the spaceship. DEMONICA-
Jenny: Hello, Proton.
Paris: Who is this?
Jenny: An old friend. MALICIA-
Megan: Make that two old friends.
Paris: The Twin Mistresses of Evil. I should have known. DEMONICA-
Jenny: I'm afraid your trusty sidekick is indisposed at the moment.
Kim: Don't worry about me, Captain. I can handle myself. DEMONICA-
Jenny: We'll see about that. Bring me the brain probe. MALICIA-
Megan: The what? DEMONICA-
Jenny: The brain probe, you insolent fool. MALICIA-
Megan: Oh, right. Your wish is my command. Sorry, Harry.
Kim: No problem. Torture me all you want, Demonica, I'll never crack. DEMONICA-
Jenny: Oh, but you will. MALICIA-
Megan: By the time we're through with you you'll be begging to tell us everything you know. DEMONICA-
Jenny: You'll be our puppet. MALICIA-
Megan: Our slave,
Kim: Great. you're doing great.
Paris: You're done for, Demonica. MALICIA-
Megan: Malicia, She's Demonica.
Paris: Whatever. You two are going to jail for a very long time. MALICIA-
Megan: Ooh. DEMONICA-
Jenny: Ooh.
Paris: Move it, toots. MALICIA-
Megan: He's so brave. DEMONICA-
Jenny: It's a shame we'll have to kill him.
Kim: I've got everything under control, Proton, shouldn't you be getting back to Headquarters?
Paris: And leave you at the mercy of these two?
Kim: Come on, Tom. I'm just getting to the good part.
Chakotay: Senior officers report to the bridge.
Paris: I guess the good part'll have to wait.
Paris: Any progress on those starcharts?
Megan: I'll have them to you by fourteen hundred.
Paris: Fourteen hundred? You told me they'd be done yesterday.
Megan: I'm sorry, Tom. The sensor array went offline. Seven of Nine will have it up and running this morning. Fourteen hundred, I promise.
Kim: You need some help? I'm not on duty again till tomorrow morning.
Megan: No, I don't want to spoil your day off.
Kim: Oh, I don't mind.
Megan: Thanks anyway.
Jenny: See you Lieutenant. Buster.
Kim: Bye.
Paris: I think Jenny really likes you.
Kim: Yeah, I know.
Paris: I thought the feeling was mutual.
Kim: How many times do I have to tell you? I like Megan, but she won't give me the time of day.
Paris: What is the difference?
Kim: You can't be serious.
Paris: They're the Delaney sisters, Harry. They're twins.
Kim: Are you kidding? They're nothing alike. Jenny's aggressive and sometimes annoying. But Megan, she's quiet, artistic, and she's got that cute little dimple in her right cheek.
Paris: Jenny doesn't have the dimple?
Kim: No dimple.
Kim: Bridge.
Paris: Well, you've done it again, Harry.
Kim: What?
Paris: Fallen for the unattainable woman. First it was a hologram, then a Borg, and now the wrong twin.
Kim: At least I'm consistent.
Janeway: Sorry to interrupt your fun, gentlemen, but long range sensors have picked up something interesting.
Chakotay: A concentrated mass of oxygen and hydrogen. Lots of animal and plant life.
Kim: An M-class planet?
Janeway: No, that's the interesting part.
Tuvok: We're entering visual range.
Janeway: On screen.
Kim: What is it?
Paris: It's an ocean.
Chakotay: According to these readings, it's bigger than the Atlantic and Pacific combined.
Paris: What's holding it together?
Kim: Looks like there's some sort of containment field keeping it from dissipating.
Janeway: Take us in closer, Tom.
Paris: Are those starships or submarines?
Janeway: Open a channel. This is Captain Janeway of the Starship Voyager. Please identify yourselves.
Tuvok: They are powering weapons.
Janeway: Shields. Red alert.
Tuvok: Shields holding, no damage. Should I return fire?
Janeway: Not yet. Voyager to approaching vessels. We have no hostile intentions.
Paris: They're maintaining their course.
Janeway: Target the lead ship and take out their weapons.
Tuvok: Direct hit.
Kim: They're hailing.
Janeway: I guess we got their attention. On screen.
Burkus: I'm Deputy Consul Burkus of the Monean Maritime Sovereignty. You've violated our space. Withdraw or we'll resume firing.
Janeway: Consul, we could have destroyed your ships, but we didn't. We have no interest in a fight.
Burkus: Then why are you here?
Janeway: Because we're explorers, and we're fascinated by your ocean. And we'd like to learn more about it, and your people if you'd be willing.
Burkus: And if we are not?
Janeway: We'll be disappointed, but we'll leave you alone.
Burkus: Your ship's impressive.
Janeway: Well, I'd be happy to give you a tour.
Burkus: Forgive our vigilance, Captain. Over the years, my government has had to protect our ocean from more than one hostile species.
Janeway: I understand. We're also very protective of our own natural resources.
Neelix: We're always interested in learning about other cultures. Yours sounds particularly fascinating.
Janeway: And this is Voyager's command center. Feel free to have a look around.
Neelix: I'm curious, Consul. Have your people always lived here?
Burkus: Our ancestors were nomadic. They only discovered the waters three hundred years ago.
Paris: I'll bet they were as stunned as we were to find this huge ball of water floating in space.
Burkus: Yes. Mister?
Paris: Paris. Tom Paris.
Janeway: My First Officer, Commander Chakotay.
Burkus: They realized they could farm sea vegetation, extract oxygen from the ocean for their ships, create a permanent home.
Paris: What's your population?
Burkus: More than eighty thousand.
Paris: And you all live underwater?
Tuvok: Lieutenant, we do have other business to attend to.
Janeway: Mister Tuvok, escort our guest to the briefing room. Care to join us, Mister Paris?
Paris: How could you tell?
Neelix: Do you still live aboard your ships?
Burkus: We've built an industrial infrastructure and undersea dwellings, but yes, most of our people still choose to live as our ancestors did.
Janeway: Any idea how the ocean came into existence? In my experience, it's a unique phenomenon.
Burkus: Riga?
Riga: There are several theories. Our clerics teach that the ocean was a divine gift from the creators to protect and sustain us. But, in my opinion, the most plausible explanation is that the ocean formed naturally, much the same way that a gas giant does.
Janeway: Makes sense.
Riga: Unfortunately, our limited knowledge of the phenomenon has created a few problems.
Janeway: What do you mean?
Burkus: I'm not sure this is an appropriate topic.
Riga: But they might be able to help us.
Janeway: We'll do anything we can.
Riga: The ocean's losing containment. Hydro-volume has decreased more than seven percent in the last year alone.
Janeway: Any idea what's causing it?
Riga: No. To make a thorough study we'd need to explore the ocean center where I believe the gravitational currents are fluctuating.
Paris: But that's more that six hundred kilometers deep.
Riga: Our best research vessel can only go one hundred kilometers. Beyond that the pressure's too great.
Paris: Well, we could take you there. Captain?
Janeway: I had no idea you were such an old salt.
Paris: When I saw that ocean today, it reminded me of the first time I read Jules Verne.
Janeway: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
Paris: I must have read it twenty thousand times. I was obsessed with stories about the ocean. All of my friends were busy with their holoprograms. I had my head buried in Captains Courageous, Moby Dick.
Janeway: So your interest in history includes the nineteenth century as well?
Paris: Ancient sailing ships were always my first love. I had it all planned. Finish high school, join the Federation Naval Patrol. But my father had other ideas.
Janeway: You'd think Admiral Paris might have understood his son's passion.
Paris: As far as he was concerned, the only ship I was going to serve on had to have a Starfleet insignia on it.
Janeway: So now you have an opportunity to make up for lost time.
Paris: Captain, with a few simple thruster modifications to the Delta Flyer, she will be seaworthy in no time.
Janeway: Good. It'd take at least a week to make the necessary modifications to Voyager.
Paris: Then it's my mission?
Janeway: Bon voyage.
Paris: And so, I thought to myself, who better than Harry to be my first mate?
Kim: First mate?
Paris: Oh, sailor talk. You'll get the hang of it. I'm telling you, Harry, I have been dreaming about something like this for as long as I can remember.
Kim: Correct me if I'm wrong, but there is a mission involved here, right?
Paris: Of course, but there's no law says we can't have a little fun along the way. Ah, boatswain. Ready to shove off?
Seven: What are you talking about, Lieutenant?
Paris: Call me Skipper.
Kim: Sailor talk. You'll get used to it.
Seven: I think not. Hull and thruster reinforcements are complete.
Paris: That's what I wanted to hear.
Riga: Oh, excuse me. Am I in the right place?
Paris: Welcome aboard. I see you like to travel light.
Riga: These are my instruments for measuring depth, pressure, currents.
Seven: We will not need them. This vessel is equipped with a complete sensor array.
Riga: Oh.
Paris: It's okay. You can store your gear in the hold.
Kim: Twenty thousand kilometers to the surface.
Paris: Immersion shielding?
Seven: Active.
Paris: Anchors aweigh.
Paris: Those structures, what are they?
Riga: It's our main oxygen refinery and desalination plant.
Seven: Corrosion resistant alloys, variable density ballast. An efficient design.
Kim: That means she's impressed.
Riga: We're very proud of what we've built here.
Paris: I can see why.
Janeway: Come in.
Janeway: I'm afraid we have some disturbing news.
Burkus: Oh?
Janeway: We've run a computer simulation to determine the rate of dissipation. It's worse than Mister Riga thought.
Chakotay: According to our estimates the ocean could experience a complete loss of containment in less than five years.
Janeway: I'm sorry.
Burkus: Your calculations could be wrong.
Janeway: I know it sounds grim, but there may be some way to stop the process.
Burkus: And if there isn't?
Janeway: You might have to consider evacuating.
Burkus: I'm supposed to go back and explain this to forty seven regional sovereigns? They'll pass their first unanimous resolution, calling for my head.
Janeway: I can imagine how difficult this must be for you, but you will have to tell them.
Burkus: Perhaps, but I'll wait until your Delta Flyer returns. Maybe they'll find something tangible.
Paris: We're at a depth of five hundred and sixty kilometers.
Riga: What was that?
Seven: The hull contracting.
Kim: Rerouting additional power to structural integrity. Nothing to worry about.
Seven: I'm detecting multiphasic energy discharges bearing zero one two mark six. Range twelve kilometers. A structure.
Riga: At this depth?
Paris: Adjusting course. I can't see anything. Give me forward illumination, Harry.
Riga: What is it?
Kim: It's generating massive amounts of artificial gravity. Looks like some kind of field reactor.
Riga: If it's malfunctioning that would explain the loss of hydro-volume.
Paris: Maybe it can be repaired. It looks ancient.
Kim: Well, if these readings are right, it's at least a hundred thousand years old.
Riga: We have no records of any previous inhabitants. Who built it? Where did they go?
Kim: Looks like the reactor's controlled by a core computer. I'll try to upload the database and get some answers.
Paris: Initiate the interface.
Seven: Upload in progress .
Riga: What's happening?
Paris: We've got a visitor.
Riga: What was it?
Kim: You're the one who lives here. You tell us.
Riga: No one's ever been this far down before. We don't know anything about marine life at these depths.
Seven: You are about to have the opportunity to make a detailed study.
Seven: The creature is emitting biothermic discharges.
Kim: It's like some kind of electric eel.
Paris: Only a hell of a lot bigger.
Seven: And significantly more powerful. That last discharge exceeded five hundred thousand volts.
Kim: The shields are fried, Tom. You might want to think about getting us out of here.
Paris: Thrusters are offline.
Seven: Targeting forward phasers.
Riga: No, you can't kill it.
Seven: I do not intend to. Unfortunately the creature does not seem to be of a similar opinion.
Paris: How's that upload coming?
Kim: Another couple of minutes.
Seven: Firing phasers.
Paris: We only made him madder.
Seven: The creature is retreating.
Kim: We've got a breach.
Paris: I'm on it.
Paris: Six hundred kilometers underwater, propulsion offline, water pouring into the cabin. It was like something out of one of those Jules Verne stories you used to read me when I was a kid.
Janeway: Red alert. All hands to battle stations.
Paris: Hey, what about me? If we're in trouble we need our best pilot at the helm! You can't just leave me here!
Paris: Five ships? And they just opened fire without warning?
Emh: Mmm hmm.
Paris: How did we get away?
Emh: Apparently, Ensign Culhane confused the enemy with a brilliant series of evasive maneuvers. I hear Captain Janeway is considering him for Chief Conn. officer.
Paris: Oh, yeah? Well, you just tell the Captain that Culhane's brilliant maneuvers almost knocked me unconscious. You'd think he'd never flown a shuttle, much less a starship.
Emh: There we are,
Paris: That's it? Aren't you going to run a neurological scan? Maybe I should be granted a medical reprieve.
Emh: Your injury was what Naomi Wildman refers to as a boo-boo.
Paris: Come on, Doc, you don't understand what it's like being down here all day, every day. I'm going crazy.
Emh: Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that the idea?
Paris: No, seriously Doc, you might want to take me down to Sickbay for a full psychiatric evaluation. Three or four days of observation at least.
Emh: See you in twenty days.
Paris: Doc! Resume recording. Okay, Dad, where were we? Ah, right. We had just sprung a leak.
Paris: Nothing like a cold shower to wake up the senses.
Kim: Structural integrity is weakening. We've lost communications, shields, propulsion.
Seven: We can reduce our density by venting plasma and transporting all non-essential equipment off the ship. It will take time, but we will eventually rise to the surface.
Paris: I think we should stay.
Riga: Stay?
Paris: I'm not about to be scared off by a few damaged systems.
Kim: Tom, don't you think maybe you're carrying this Captains Courageous thing a little too far?
Paris: Look, it's a good bet the reactor's malfunctioning. Now we're only going to get one shot at fixing it. You want to leave? Fine. Give me an environmental suit and you can pick me up after you've repaired the Flyer.
Kim: You're going for a swim? Are you crazy?
Paris: You have a better idea?
Kim: Well, we already managed to interface with the reactor's computer. Maybe we can make the repairs, maybe we can't, but I'm not leaving you down here alone.
Paris: What about you two?
Riga: I'll stay.
Paris: Seven?
Seven: It is in my nature to comply with the Collective.
Tuvok: I'm detecting a breach in the containment field.
Chakotay: Any way we can seal it?
Tuvok: We might try reinforcing the field with a deflector beam.
Janeway: Do it. Try hailing the Delta Flyer again.
Chakotay: Nothing.
Burkus: What do you think's happened?
Janeway: They may be too deep to receive a transmission.
Burkus: They may have had an accident.
Janeway: It's possible.
Burkus: Possible? Captain, I'll need a better explanation than that. What am I supposed to tell the Council?
Janeway: Clarify something for me. Are you more concerned about the lives of the people on that shuttle or your political career?
Riga: What's that?
Seven: A gravimetric discharge. The reactor's core is unstable.
Paris: You'd be unstable too if you were as old as this thing.
Kim: Age has nothing to do with it. The reactor's diverting massive amounts of power to its structural integrity field. Power normally reserved for oceanic containment.
Paris: That would explain why containment is weakening.
Kim: Looks like the density of the water's been increasing over the past few years. It seems the reactor's just trying to keep itself from being crushed.
Paris: Can we initiate a power transfer? Stabilize the core?
Seven: I believe so, but it would be a temporary solution.
Paris: That's better than nothing.
Tuvok: Captain, full containment has just been re-established.
Janeway: The deflector beam?
Tuvok: Negative. The ocean appears to have been stabilized from within.
Burkus: It looks like our team has succeeded.
Chakotay: I'm picking up an object on a slow ascent. It's the Flyer.
Riga: You've found something?
Paris: I've been studying the generator's database. You're not going to believe this, but apparently, your ocean used to be part of a landmass.
Riga: Really?
Paris: As far as I can tell, it was part of a planetary ecozystem inhabited by a very advanced civilization.
Riga: What happened to them?
Paris: That's a good question. All I know is they launched this reactor into orbit. They used some kind of elaborate kinetic transfer system to draw the water and everything in it up to the reactor.
Riga: Extraordinary. Why would anyone want to move an entire ocean?
Paris: Maybe there was some kind of disaster on the planet, or maybe it was just an experiment.
Riga: That must have been a massive undertaking.
Paris: Took them almost two hundred years.
Riga: I wonder what they'd think if they knew we settled here and built another civilization.
Paris: Actually, I think they'd be pretty concerned.
Riga: Oh?
Paris: This field reactor that they designed, it's a pretty amazing piece of technology. Durable. I don't think it's responsible for the loss of containment.
Riga: But as soon as we made the recalibration, the water stabilized. I don't see what else it could be.
Paris: Riga, your mining operations are destroying the ocean.
Paris: You'll never get into Starfleet Academy by playing with toys. Do your homework. Are you listening to me, Thomas?
Janeway: Thomas Eugene Paris, I hereby reduce you to the rank of Ensign and I sentence you to thirty years of solitary confinement
Admiral Paris: Go to your room, young man. That's an order. Stay there and think about what I've said.
Kim: Tom?
Kim: Tom? Tom, wake up. Bad dream?
Paris: Oh, you could say that.
Kim: You know, you look like hell.
Paris: Thanks. How'd you get past the guard?
Kim: The Vulcan neck pinch.
Paris: Come to spring me?
Kim: Well, the Captain finally gave me permission to visit, but I've only got a few minutes.
Paris: That's big of her.
Kim: How are you doing?
Paris: Oh, thirty days? No problem. How's B'Elanna?
Kim: She misses you.
Paris: Yeah, I know the feeling.
Kim: So, what have you been doing to pass the time?
Paris: Thinking and, thinking. Trying not to think. Actually, I started recording a letter to my father.
Kim: Really?
Paris: Yeah. For some reason I, I wanted to explain to him how I ended up in here. I didn't want him to think. Well, anyway, I realized how ridiculous it was.
Kim: You should finish it.
Paris: Give me one good reason.
Kim: Maybe he'll hear it someday.
Paris: Doubtful.
Kim: You'll feel better getting it off your chest?
Paris: Are you bucking for ship's counselor, Harry?
Kim: What are you going to do, delete the letter? That would be pointless.
Paris: At least I'm consistent.
Kim: Tom.
Paris: Thanks for the visit, Harry.
Kim: See you in fourteen.
Kim: What was it you once told me? That your father used to say you never finished anything.
Paris: Resume recording, So, we told Consul Burkus about the alien field reactor and how his oxygen refineries were destroying it. He took the news pretty well. At first.
Burkus: The Council's very grateful for your help, Captain. They've asked me to request the shield and thruster schematics for your Delta Flyer. We're hoping to design a probe that'll allow us to monitor the containment generator.
Janeway: Lieutenant Torres will give you everything you need.
Torres: I've also drawn up some designs for an oxygen replication system. It'll allow you to create free oxygen without extricating it from the water. It won't solve your problems overnight, but it's a start.
Burkus: I'm sure it'll be very helpful.
Riga: Our oxygen extraction levels are still dangerously high. I'm going to recommend shutting down refineries four, five and six.
Burkus: We'll take it under advisement. Well, Captain, I wish you a safe journey.
Janeway: Oh, we have a few more suggestions if you'd like to hear them.
Burkus: Please. Pass them along to Mister Riga. He'll include them in his report.
Paris: I'm curious. Who's going to read that report?
Burkus: It will be given to the subcommittees on life support and agriculture.
Riga: Excuse me, Consul. I'm not sure you understand the magnitude of the crisis. What you're suggesting could take months.
Burkus: Thank you, Mister Riga.
Paris: You should listen to him. If you don't make some serious changes around here soon, that ocean won't be here much longer.
Burkus: As I said, we understand his concerns.
Paris: Do you? Seems to me like you're just trying to sidestep the issue and send us on our way.
Burkus: With all due respect, who are you to tell us what to do with our ocean?
Paris: With all due respect, it's not your ocean.
Janeway: Lieutenant.
Burkus: It's all right, Captain. I'd like to respond, but not as a diplomat, as a Monean. You came here claiming you wanted to learn about our way of life and now, having spent three days here, you're suggesting we abandon it. We have an expression. Brine in the veins. Tell him what it means.
Riga: It's used to describe someone who has special connection to the waters.
Burkus: My family has lived here for ten generations. We protected this ocean, cultivated it, lived in harmony with the animals that inhabit it. Can you say the same? I didn't think so. Good day, Captain.
Paris: We can't just let this go.
Janeway: What do you want me to do?
Paris: Of course. The almighty Prime Directive.
Janeway: Would you please excuse us, Lieutenant?
Torres: See you later.
Janeway: I know you're upset, Lieutenant, but when you're in a room with me you check that attitude at the door, understood?
Paris: Captain, I'm sorry
Janeway: We can't expect an entire society to change because we think they should.
Paris: Then you agree with me.
Janeway: Yes, and we gave them the help they asked for. We told them what we know. Now it's up to them to do what they think is appropriate.
Paris: You heard that Consul. They're not going to do a damn thing.
Janeway: Maybe not, but that's their prerogative.
Paris: Captain.
Janeway: End of discussion, Lieutenant. At fourteen hundred hours, we'll resume a course for the Alpha Quadrant. Is that clear. Is that clear?
Paris: As a bell.
Torres: Hey. Here to stamp out intergalactic evil?
Paris: It's funny.
Torres: What?
Paris: I went on this mission expecting to play out a childhood fantasy. But along the way, when I realized that ocean would just be gone one day, it started to matter to me. It sounds pretty stupid, huh?
Torres: No. No, it sounds like you've found yourself a cause.
Paris: I never thought of myself as a cause kind of guy.
Torres: Well, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you.
Paris: Thanks. But Captain Proton's not going to be able to save the day this time, is he?
Torres: What about Tom Paris?
Riga: Council chamber, please.
Paris: Riga. You're dismissed, crewman.
Paris: I want you to tell me honestly. What do you think's going to happen now?
Riga: I think the bureaucracy isn't going to make more than token changes.
Paris: Isn't there anything else you can do?
Riga: I don't see how, other than taking the oxygen refineries offline.
Paris: What would happen, hypothetically, if someone were to shut down the refineries?
Riga: Well, I suppose they'd have to be rebuilt.
Paris: Yeah, and they'd probably be more willing to redesign them while they're at it. If nothing else, it would grab their attention.
Riga: Are you suggesting
Paris: I'm just asking questions, because I'm not supposed to get involved in the internal affairs of alien worlds. Unless, of course, someone makes a direct request.
Riga: If you can get me down there, I'd be willing to do it.
Paris: You'd be risking your life.
Riga: I know.
Tuvok: Captain, there has just been an unauthorized launch from shuttlebay one, The Delta Flyer.
Janeway: Tom.
Janeway: Hail him.
Tuvok: No response.
Chakotay: Try a tractor beam.
Tuvok: We're out of range.
Kim: We're being hailed, Captain. It's Consul Burkus.
Burkus: Your shuttlecraft has violated our borders. I demand an explanation.
Janeway: Mister Paris is acting without authorisation.
Burkus: To what end?
Janeway: According to our scans, Mister Riga is with him. I have to assume they intend to take some sort of radical action to protect the ocean.
Burkus: Then I presume you intend to take radical action to stop them.
Computer: Warning. Hull pressure approaching critical.
Riga: We're going down too fast.
Paris: It's the only way we can outrun your ships.
Janeway: Janeway to Paris. Return to Voyager immediately.
Paris: Sorry, Captain. I can't do that.
Janeway: Lieutenant, you are disobeying a direct order.
Paris: I know.
Chakotay: He cut us off.
Janeway: What the hell are they up to?
Kim: Looks like they're heading directly beneath the industrial complex.
Janeway: Can we reach them with phasers?
Tuvok: Unadvisable. It would create a hydro-dynamic shock wave.
Chakotay: What about an old-fashioned depth charge?
Tuvok: It should be possible to modify a photon torpedo.
Chakotay: We could program it to detonate once it's in proximity to the Delta Flyer.
Janeway: Do it.
Tuvok: The torpedo is ready, Captain. However, the Delta Flyer has submerged below our targeting range.
Kim: Consul Burkus, hailing again.
Janeway: On screen.
Burkus: Our refinery workers have been given five minutes to clear the structure. Was this the kind of evacuation you had in mind, Captain?
Janeway: Can you get them our in time?
Burkus: Yes, but,
Janeway: Do it. I'll find a way to protect your refinery. End transmission.
Burkus: Captain!
Tuvok: He descended to avoid attack. If my calculations are correct, he will have to come back up to a depth of two thousand meters to strike his target.
Janeway: Giving us a window of opportunity,
Tuvok: Precisely.
Kim: Captain, this is Tom we're talking about. We're not going to open fire, are we?
Janeway: As far as I'm concerned, he forfeited his status as a protected member of this crew the second he launched that shuttle.
Riga: How long till we reach our target?
Paris: Thirty six seconds.
Chakotay: He's started his ascent.
Janeway: Hail him.
Kim: Go ahead.
Janeway: Lieutenant Paris, this is your final warning.
Kim: He's not responding.
Janeway: Arm the torpedo.
Kim: Twenty seconds to weapons range.
Paris: Are you sure you want to go through with this?
Riga: Do you?
Paris: I've taken you this far. We'd better arm that missile.
Riga: Missile armed.
Janeway: Stand down, Mister Paris.
Janeway: Or I will open fire.
Kim: Still no answer.
Riga: Time.
Paris: Ten seconds. Nine.
Tuvok: Eight. Seven. Six.
Paris: Five. Four. Three.
Tuvok: Two. One.
Janeway: Fire.
Paris: Fire!
Tuvok: The Flyer has been disabled.
Janeway: Their missile?
Tuvok: Deflected.
Janeway: Captain's log, Stardate 52179.4. After salvaging the Delta Flyer, we've resumed our course toward the Alpha Quadrant. I now have to turn my attention to a matter of diskipline.
Janeway: Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris. You are guilty of insubordination, unauthorized use of a spacecraft, reckless endangerment, and conduct unbecoming an officer. Do you have anything to say?
Paris: Riga needed my help.
Janeway: In doing so, you disobeyed my direct orders.
Paris: Yes, ma'am.
Janeway: You violated the protocols that govern this crew.
Paris: Yes, ma'am.
Janeway: You nearly caused an armed conflict with the Moneans. And frankly, you're lucky to be standing here right now. I would have destroyed your shuttle if necessary.
Paris: Yes, ma'am. Permission to speak freely. Riga's people weren't going to listen. They were going to ignore our warnings.
Janeway: You don't know that.
Paris: Riga knew, and I was the only one who could help them.
Janeway: I understand your passion, but passion alone doesn't give you the right to take matters into your own hands. Four years ago, I released you from prison and gave you a fresh start. Until now, you've been a fine officer. Your service on this ship has been exemplary. I really believed you were past this kind of conduct.
Paris: I've never been very good at playing by the rules. That doesn't mean that serving under your command hasn't changed me, for the better. At least this time, I broke the rules for a reason. For something I believed in.
Janeway: I admire your principles, Tom, but I can't ignore what you've done. I hereby reduce you to the rank of Ensign, and I sentence you to thirty days solitary confinement. Take Ensign Paris to the brig.
Paris: I know the way.
Tuvok: Rise and shine, Ensign. Your thirty days have been served. Report for duty. You may want to shave first.
Paris: Yes, sir.
Torres: Torres to Paris.
Paris: Go ahead.
Torres: Rumor has it that you're free for dinner.
Paris: Gee, I don't know. Are you sure you want to be seen associating with an ex-con?
Torres: My quarters, oh seven hundred. That's an order, Ensign.
Paris: Yes, ma'am.
Paris: Resume recording. Well, I'm out now and back to my duties. I honestly don't know if I'll ever understand you, or what went wrong between us, but I hope this letter helps you understand me a little better. Computer, file letter in my personal database, and transmit when we're within range of Earth.