05x08 - Nothing Human

[bunniefuu]

...and since l was
the only crew member

who could survive
the corrosive atmosphere,

it was up to me
to retrieve the data module

and save the day.

Ah, here l am...

mission accomplished.

Ah...

Then, of course there was

the perilous mission
to La'voti V.

You remember that one,
don't you, Mr. Paris?

How could l forget?

Here you are
after your unfortunate slip

into the fetid mud pits
of Pala Mar.

Hey, l was pushed.

Of course you were.

Thank you, Doctor.

We've all enjoyed
your holo-images enormously.

Oh, but l haven't
finished yet.

There's more?

The best is yet to come,
Lieutenant.

l've created a fascinating

12-part holographic essay
which l 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.

2100 hours, Commander.

All systems reporting normal.

Acknowledged.

Like l said, it's 2100 hours.

l heard you the first time,
Harry.

They've been in there
over an hour.

l'm aware of that.

Didn't the Captain ask you
to rescue them after 30 minutes?

Harry, you and l
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?

Of course not, sir.

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.

What happened to going
to Yellow Alert

after half an hour?

Commander Chakotay appears to
have disobeyed a direct order.

Definitely grounds
for court-martial.

Hey, Neelix.

Coffee?

l could use a whole pot.

Let me guess.

The Doctor's photographic essay?

One mind-numbing image
after the next.

Oh, l don't know.

l thought some of those pictures
were pretty funny.

You mean like the one where Tom
slipped into a mud pit?

You're famous.

Then, of course, there's the one

depicting
a certain Chief Engineer

with her foot stuck
in a plasma injector.

What?

Really? Well, l seem
to have missed that one.

The Doctor must have taken it
out of the exhibition.

Oh, l can't wait to
get my hands on it.

Maybe l can distribute it
to everyone's personal database.

Try it and l'll k*ll you...

right after l finish deleting
the Doctor's program.

What'd you put
in this coffee, Neelix?

l'm reading
a massive energy wave

900,000 kilometers
off the starboard bow,

heading right for us.

Source?

Unknown.

Shields up.
Evasive maneuvers.

The wave just changed course.

lt seems to be tracking us!

Go to warp 8.

Too late.
Engines are down.

Everybody hang on.

All stop.

Shields are holding.

Minor damage to the hull plating
on Deck 15.

No injuries.

Stand down Red Alert.

Captain, when the wave hit,

our communications array
received a download.

What sort of download?

l'm not sure.

Lots of information.

l can't decipher it,
but there's an audio component.

Let's hear it.

Harry, try all the standard
decryption algorithms.

lt's strange.

The wave followed us,

but it didn't cause any damage.

lnstead, we get a download
to our database.

l'd say it's a pretty good bet

somebody's trying
to tell us something.

The wave left
a residual ion trail.

We might be able
to locate its point of origin.

Set a course.

Looks like it's taken
quite a b*ating.

Life signs?

One. Nonhumanoid.

lt's very faint.

Probably injured.

Beam it to Sick Bay.

Are you sure that's wise,
Captain?

l'm betting
that message we received

was some sort of distress call

and if we're going to help,
l'd rather do it on Voyager.

The physiology is so unusual

the tricorder can't make heads
or tails of it.

The creature's
obviously injured,

but l haven't a clue
how to treat it

or even diagnose it.

My scans came up with something
interesting, Captain.

The interfaces
on the alien's vessel

can only be activated
chemically.

l'm guessing that this life-form

somehow interfaces directly
with the ship's systems

using biochemical secretions
to give commands.

That would explain
how it can fly a ship.

l'm hoping this can
also help us figure out...

No! You'll hurt B'Elanna!

Get it off of me!

Janeway to Kim.
Beam the alien life-form

back to its vessel now!

l'm having trouble
getting a lock.

lt's piercing her neck!

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.

How do we get it off her?

l can't remove it surgically,

not without doing
irreparable harm

to B'Elanna's internal organs.

Can we get a lock
on the creature--

transport it off?

Not unless we want to beam

B'Elanna's cardiopulmonary
system along with it.

We have to do something!

No one is disputing
that, Mr. Paris.

The question is: What?

lf l'm to have any hope
of devising a treatment,

l'll need to brush up
on my exobiology.

What do you mean, ''brush up''?

Don't you have all this
information in your database?

l may be a walking
medical encyclopedia,

but even l don't know
everything.

My matrix simply isn't
large enough.

Maybe we can do
better than giving you

a crash course in exobiology.

Maybe we can provide
you with a consultant.

l'd be delighted, but how?

By isolating the computer's
exobiology data files

and merging them
into an interactive matrix.

-A hologram.
-Exactly.

That may not be
as simple as it sounds.

lt would need to be nearly
as sophisticated as l am--

tactile interfaces,
personality subroutines...

Harry could do it.

Search the database
for a leading exobiologist.

lf you want to add
a personality,

it may as well be based
on a real person.

l'll have Harry meet you
on Holodeck 2.

Stay with her
and monitor her vital signs.

Call me if there's any change.

l still have my doubts
about this, Doc.

lt's one thing
to create a simple hologram,

but you're trying to merge

an extensive database
with an interactive matrix.

Don't be a pessimist, Mr. Kim.

Together, we'll create

a masterpiece
of holographic art.

A subject
for your next slide show?

-Perhaps.
-Can't wait.

What's the name of that
exobiologist you chose?

Crell Moset.

Here's the file.

Let's start with the parameters
for physical appearance.

Computer, display
a holographic simulation

of Crell Moset.

Have you mentioned
to anyone else

that this guy's a Cardassian?

What difference does it make?

Maybe you haven't heard.

They're not the exactly

the friendliest folks
in the galaxy.

l don't care
if he's the nastiest man

who ever lived, as long as he
can help us save B'Elanna.

Good point.

Computer, transfer
all referenced medical files

to the simulation.

Transfer complete.

Now install
personality subroutines

and voice approximation.

lnstallation complete.

Dr. Moset, l'd like
to consult with you

about an alien life-form.

l am Crell Moset,

Chief Exobiology Specialist
Cardassia Prime,

...to perform
all surgical procedures.

This is going well.
What's wrong?

Some sort of overload
in the interactive matrix.

Can you clear it up?

l'm trying.

Computer, install
a recursive algorithm.

Algorithm installed.

Try it again.

Dr. Moset?

My friends call me Crell.

lt's a pleasure to meet you,
Crell.

And you, good man,
what's your name?

Actually, l'm in between
names at the moment.

l'm an Emergency
Medical Hologram.

lnteresting.

But his friends call him Doc.

Aha. May l presume?

Certainly.

So, Doc, how can
an old surgeon like me

help a technological marvel
such as yourself?

Oh, well...

l've got a patient
with a rather unusual problem.

She's become fused
with a nonhumanoid life-form

l know nothing about.

Nonhumanoid exobiology

happens to be one
of my specialties.

That's exactly why we've
created your program.

Program?

You're a hologram as well.

lnteresting.

l'd like to see the patient
right away.

Mr. Kim, would you
do the honors, please?

No problem.

Listen,
if he destabilizes again,

take him off-line and call me.

Understood.

Lieutenant,
may l present Crell Moset?

lt's a pleasure.

She's been drifting
in and out of consciousness.

Don't be rude, Lieutenant.

To him?

No offense, Doc,
but he's just a...

A brilliant scientist
who's here to help us.

This way, Crell.

Hmm... l can see
why you're having difficulty.

lts physiology doesn't match

any of the standard
templates in our database.

My guess would be
a cytoplasmic life-form.

l agree.
And from what l can tell,

it has co-opted
her vital systems.

She's Klingon...

No, the cranial ridges
are less pronounced.

Klingon-human hybrid.

Exactly.

Let's hope your instincts

about the creature
are equally insightful.

l'm afraid

this one is going
to require more

than a visual assessment.

You have
an isomolecular scanner.

No. Just a standard issue
Starfleet tricorder.

No wonder you're having problems
making an accurate diagnosis.

l suggested an upgrade
to the Starfleet people

at a joint medical conference,

but they assumed l was
just an arrogant Cardassian

trying to prove
his superiority...

or maybe they thought
l was a spy.

l hope you weren't too offended.

lt's an unfortunate reality.

Sometimes even enlightened
races can't find common ground.

l may be able
to recalibrate this thing.

There. That should help.

Amazing.

Well, someone from Starfleet
appreciates me.

l've instructed the computer
to assign symbols

to all the tones received
in the transmission.

Looks like there were over
10,000 separate sounds

used in this section
of the message.

lt's going to be
a tough code to cr*ck.

Maybe we can get a little help

from the alien vessel's
data banks.

Good idea.

Janeway to Seven of Nine.

Yes.

Any chance of downloading
the alien's data banks?

We're looking for anything

that might help us
understand their language.

We don't know how much time
B'Elanna has left.

We must move quickly.

The vessel is on the verge
of a complete systems failure.

Prepare to download the data.

l heard the Captain.

ls there a problem?

No. No problem.

You seem uncomfortable
taking orders from me.

lt's just that l'm
used to taking orders

from B'Elanna, that's all

and to tell you the truth,
she doesn't...

Doesn't like me.
Yes, l 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.

l'm picking up a fluctuation

in the alien ship's
power source.

lt's disrupting
the interface transceiver.

Reinitialize.

l'm working on it.

lts systems are overloading.

Red Alert.

Engineering to Bridge.

The alien vessel
is destabilizing.

lts destruction is imminent.

Can you download
the information first?

We're trying.

Captain, it's going to explode.

Ensign, back us off.

What do we know so far?

The life-form has taken
control of her body

at the autonomic level,

drawing proteins
from her tissues,

white blood cells
from her arteries.

Which can be interpreted
in several ways.

A form of att*ck.

l find it odd

that a species would evolve
an att*ck mechanism

that would leave it
so vulnerable.

Why not do its damage
and retreat?

A parasite perhaps?

Yes, l think so,

but not any ordinary variety.

lt's unlikely it could
sustain itself like this

over the long term.

lts own systems are damaged.

lt's doing this as a stopgap
measure to keep itself alive.

So the patient's heart,
lungs, kidneys--

they're all augmenting
the alien's damaged system.

lt's using B'Elanna
as a life preserver.

But if it needs her to survive,

it's not about to let go
without a fight.

l'd like to think that's a fight
you and l can win.

We do work well together.

l just wish we had access
to my laboratory.

lt has all the instrumentation
we would need.

Well, we'll just
have to improvise.

Not necessarily.

We may be able to create
a reasonable facsimile

of your laboratory
in our holodeck--

providing, of course,

you can give
an accurate description.

Oh, down to the smallest detail.

lt's more of a home to me
than... than my home.

Tom.

Hey, there.

l can't move.

l know.

But don't worry.

We'll get this thing off you.

Just think.

l could force you to listen
to rock 'n' roll all day

and you wouldn't be able
to do a thing about it.

Who is that?

Relax.

He's just a hologram--

a specialist in exobiology.

The Doc thinks he might be able
to help you.

Can't he find somebody else?

Apparently, this guy's the best.

Besides, he's just
a walking database.

Hologram or not,
he's Cardassian.

As far as l'm concerned,

they're all
cold-blooded K*llers.

l understand how you feel.

Unfortunately,
that cold-blooded k*ller

may be the only one
who can save your life.

lmpressive.

Mm.

ls this where you did your work
on the Fostossa virus?

No. Actually, l 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 l think of the resources
that were squandered,

the lives that were lost...

>From what l understand,
you saved thousands of lives.

ln retrospect, l don't know how.

The m*llitary had
everything they needed,

but the civilian hospitals?

No staff,
the crudest equipment...

Don't tell me.

You were forced to improvise.

Yes!

l know what that's like.

l didn't have the resources

to try traditional methods,
so l experimented

with procedures that never
would have occurred to me

under ordinary circumstances.

The discovery of the cure was
almost accidental, really.

You're being modest, Crell.

No.

You made medical history.

You won the Legate's
Crest of Valor.

Awards aren't important, Doc.

lt's the work that matters.

Of course.

Still, the recognition
of your peers, your government

must be very satisfying.

l'm sure you've made your
share of breakthroughs.

Naturally. Unfortunately,
no one from Starfleet

ever hears about them.

l toil in obscurity.

Why don't you show me
your patient records?

At least l'll know
about your accomplishments.

All right.

Everything seems to be in order.

Shall we get to work?

Computer, create
a holographic re-creation

of the alien in Sick Bay.

Hand me that cortical
stimulator, will you?

Yes. Thank you.

Captain's Log, supplemental.

While the Doctor seems
to be making progress,

Commander Chakotay and l
have hit a wall

in our attempt
to decipher the alien message.

lt was a distress call, right?

So maybe if we retransmitted
that message,

others of the species would
realize we need their help.

We don't know where they are.

We'll send it on
all subspace bands.

lf they're out there,
they'll hear it.

They might turn out
to be unfriendly.

The Doctor's pretty sure

the alien is simply trying
to survive. l agree.

lt'll be a difficult
first contact,

but we might find a way
to communicate.

lt's worth a sh*t.

Tuvok, reroute auxiliary power
to the deflector dish.

Retransmit the alien's message
on all subspace bands.

Aye, Captain.

Deflector at full capacity.

Chakotay.

l'm sorry.

My wife tells me l'm tone deaf.

Not at all.

You were right on key.

lf you enjoy music,

we can run some opera programs
after we're finished.

l'd like that.

l think we're ready
for a look inside.

Scalpel?

Forgive me for saying so,

but this appears to be
a rather crude instrument,

especially when we have
such advanced equipment

at our disposal.

l 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?

Uh, make a vertical incision,
say, 12 centimeters,

starting here.

We're hurting it.

Doctor, it's a hologram.

Of course.

l guess as a hologram myself,
l have a certain empathy.

Keep going.

Extraordinary.

Look at that series of nodes.

They appear to be clustered
along the primary nerve.

Multiple neocortices, l'd say.

Suggesting a highly
intelligent species.

Yes, but also presenting
us with a point of att*ck.

att*ck?

lf we induce a neurostatic shock
in one of these nodes,

l believe it will travel
to the others,

the creature will lose
motor function

and we'll be able to remove it.

The procedure will probably
k*ll the creature.

Probably.

l'd like to find a way
to save them both.

So would l
in an ideal situation,

but we have to set priorities,

which, in this case,
is your crewmate.

This is a sentient life-form.

For all we know, it could be
this species' Einstein,

its Picasso.

Or he could be
a psychotic criminal.

The point is, we don't know
and we have choices to make.

Your program's destabilizing.

This is such poor timing.

l'll have to take you off-line,
but don't worry.

We'll have you up
and running again in no time.

Computer, take Medical
Consultant Program off-line.

Doctor to Ensign Kim.

Go ahead, Doc.

Our new program's destabilizing.

l'll meet you in Sick Bay.

We'll try
to reinitialize him there.

Tabor, l could use some help.

Yes, sir.

Try again.

No luck.

Would it be easier

if we reduced
the hologram's memory load?

Maybe, but l don't want

to do that
unless we absolutely have to.

What's going on?

My consultant's gone off-line.

The Cardassian?

You can leave him off.

l'm surprised
by your attitude, Lieutenant.

l never took you for someone

who would make generalizations
based on race.

When it comes to Cardassians,
l'm guilty as charged.

l understand your experience
with them was unpleasant,

but if you give Crell a chance,
l think you'll find

that he's a friendly,
compassionate man,

not to mention a genius
who's trying to save your life.

l'll skip the introductions
if it's all the same to you.

Suit yourself,

but you should know
l plan on asking the Captain

to keep him on
as a permanent consultant.

l'm not the only one who's going
to have a problem with that.

Well, you'll just have
to get used to it.

Who knows?
You may even grow to like him.

Don't hold your breath.

How's it coming?

We're close.

Actually,
l think that should do it.

Good.

Computer, reactivate

Medical Consultant Program
Beta-1.

Hello, again.

My God.

What's wrong?

That's Crell Moset.

Yes. Do l know you?

He k*lled my brother,
my grandfather--

hundreds of people.

He's a mass m*rder*r.

You must be mistaken.

lt's no mistake.

Moset performed experiments
on living people.

Thousands of Bajorans
were k*lled

in his so-called hospital.

ls this true?

No, no. He's...

There must be
some misunderstanding.

The liar.

Take it easy, Tabor.

Whoa. He's just a hologram.

l'm upsetting him.

l should go.

l'm sorry about this.

Computer, transfer
Medical Consultant Program

to Holodeck 2.

l can still remember the sounds
his instruments made...

the screams of his patients...

the smell...

of chemicals and dead flesh.

He operated on my grandfather...

exposed his internal organs
to nadion radiation.

lt took six days for him to die.

l promised myself
l would never forget.

You were very young.

ls it possible your memory
of these events is inaccurate?

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.

Ensign, the man you're accusing
cured the Fostossa virus.

He stopped an epidemic that
k*lled thousands of Bajorans.

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.

How do you know this?

Everybody knew.

l remember some of the Maquis
under my command

talking about an infamous
Cardassian doctor.

Could these simply
have been rumors

spread by Bajorans
who hated the Cardassians?

l was there.

l don't understand
why this isn't in our database.

The Cardassians
didn't exactly publicize

their wartime medical practices.

l wouldn't be surprised
if the real Moset went on

to live a normal life.

He's the Chairman of Exobiology
at the University of Culat.

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.

l had a bad feeling
about that hologram

the second l saw him.

Looks like your instinct
was right.

l won't let him near me.

You're kidding, right?

No, l am dead serious.

B'Elanna...

lf l let that pig
operate on me...

l'll be benefiting
from other people's suffering.

You're not being rational.

l won't do it.

What's happening?

Her cytotoxin levels are
going through the roof.

Pulse is rapid and irregular.

No doubt you've said
something to upset her.

What she's upset about, Doc,
is your Cardassian buddy.

Tell him.

Tell me what?

She refuses
to let him treat her.

B'Elanna, we're very close
to a solution.

Do it...

...without him.

l don't know that l can.

Find another way.

She's going
into cytotoxic shock!

Two milligrams inaprovaline!

Chief Medical Officer's Log,
supplemental.

l've managed to stabilize
Lieutenant Torres

for the time being,
but the matter of how to proceed

with her treatment
remains unresolved.

lsolate data block 0459.

Ensign.

You wanted to see me?

We've been looking for evidence

that might support
Tabor's accusations.

Anything?

Actually, that's
why we called you here.

lt's not looking good.

Show me.

We've been reviewing data

on the Cardassian
occupation of Bajor--

the alleged site
of Moset's crimes.

Strategic information,
log entries kept in battle,

sensor scans from Starfleet
vessels-- this, for example.

Requisition records from one
of Crell Moset's hospitals.

He was purchasing
biochemical agents,

including every known strain
of the Fostossa virus.

Of course he needed
samples of the virus.

That's how vaccines
are developed.

Take a look
at the requisition orders.

Moset didn't ask
for any of the enzymes

normally required
for synthesizing a vaccine.

lt gets worse.

Four days after he received
the virus samples,

there was a minor outbreak
of Fostossa

in the vicinity of his hospital.

Prior to that date,

there had not been a single case
in the entire province.

l have to report these findings
to Commander Chakotay.

lt is curious.

The Borg are accused
of assimilating information

with no regard for life.

This Cardassian did the same

and yet, his behavior
is tolerated.

Ah, there you are.

l'm almost ready
to begin the surgery.

Lieutenant Torres won't allow
you to have anything to do

with her treatment.

Because of that Bajoran?

We've gathered
some corroborating evidence.

lt appears that he's
telling the truth.

You committed
a series of atrocities

during the Cardassian w*r.

Thousands of Bajorans d*ed
on your surgical tables.

That's absurd.

And even if it were true,
l'm only a hologram

and l have no memory
of those events.

They're not part
of my programming.

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.

What do you suggest
we do about it?

l'm not sure.

We may have
to delete your program.

Delete me?

What about our patient?

l suppose l'd have to try
and treat her on my own.

No offense, but you need me.

l realize that.

You're a physician.

You know there's always
a price to pay

for the advancement
of medical science.

Sometimes that price
is too high.

t*rture?

Your word, not mine.

l cured the Fostossa virus,
didn't l?

So these experiments
you say l conducted

obviously helped me
devise a treatment.

lmagine how many lives
would have been lost

if l hadn't eliminated
this disease.

That doesn't justify

using people
in laboratory experiments.

As l explained to you,

during the occupation,
l was forced to improvise.

l used what resources l had.

And ethical considerations,
they mean nothing to you?

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.

But not people.

lt's convenient to draw a line

between higher and lower
species, isn't it?

This is the 24th century, Crell.

Your kind of barbarism
ended a long time ago

or, at least, it should have.

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?

Come in.

Commander.

This request of yours
to be relieved of duty--

l won't grant it.

l have the right
to resign my commission.

For what reason?

Moral objections
to this ship's medical policy.

l 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.

You don't have the right

to violate the memory
of my family.

As long as that Cardassian
hologram is on line,

that's exactly
what you're doing.

lt's not that simple.

lt is to me.

Crell Moset k*lled thousands
of people in his hospitals.

As long as we're willing
to benefit from his research,

we're no better than he is.

lf l had weeks, or even days,

maybe l could come up
with an alternative,

but time is of the essence
and Moset's idea will work.

Then you've got to use it.

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.

We're talking about a woman

who has alien tendrils
sapping the life out of her.

She's obviously
not thinking straight.

On the contrary.

Her concerns are based in logic.

Logic?

lf the Doctor uses knowledge
that Moset gained

through his experiments,
we would be validating

his methods, inviting
further unethical research.

We'd be setting
a terrible precedent.

We're in the middle
of the Delta Quadrant.

Who would know?

We would know.

Fine.

Let's just deactivate
the evil hologram

and let B'Elanna die.

At least, we'd have
our morals intact.

-Tom.
-And you, Chakotay,

since when do you care
what Starfleet thinks?

This isn't about rules
and regulations.

This is about doing
what's right.

Spoken like a true Maquis.

Well, if you'd just
set aside your hatred

of the Cardassian
for one second...

Enough, Lieutenant.

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
l'm concerned about

is the well-being of that
crew member lying in Sick Bay.

We'll wrestle with the morality
of this situation later--

after B'Elanna is
back on her feet.

Doctor, you have
my authorization to proceed

with Moset's assistance.

Yes, Captain.

Any consequences
of this decision

will be my responsibility.

Dismissed.

Thanks.

Scalpel.

Ensign Kim,
do you hear something?

Hear what?

A series of high frequencies.

They are getting louder.

Must be those Vulcan
ears of yours.

l hear it, too.

Anything on sensors?

lt appears to be
an alien com signal.

Triaxilating wavelengths.

Origins?

Unknown.

Captain, a vessel
just dropped out of warp.

Approaching fast
off the port bow.

On screen.

Can we dampen it a little?

Negative.

Harry, tell me that was just
their way of saying hello.

l wish l could.

The universal translator
doesn't have a clue.

Perhaps they are waiting
for our response.

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.

lt's injured and we're
attempting to provide treatment.

lf you can understand...

l'm ready to stimulate
the primary neural pathways.

Cortical probe.

l'm applying it
to the primary neocortex.

lts motor control is weakening,

but not enough
to release the patient.

Our little friend
needs a bigger jolt.

l'm increasing
the pulse frequency...

The synapses are degenerating.

You're k*lling it.

Don't lose your nerve, Doctor--

not when we're this close.

Lower the pulse frequency.

lf l do that, the creature
will regain control.

l don't care.
Lower the pulse.

-Doctor...
-Lower the pulse frequency

or l'll take
your program off-line.

You realize you're reducing
our chances of saving her?

Not necessarily.

Give me the probe.

The probe, Doctor.

lf we apply the pulse
to the secondary neocortex,

we should be able
to achieve the same results

at a lower frequency.

Not particularly efficient.

But it might prove interesting.

l'm reading an energy surge
in their forward section.

Shields!

Doctor to Bridge.
The holodeck's going off-line.

What's happening up there?

Stand by, Doctor.

They've locked on to us
with some sort of tractor beam.

lt's draining our power.

Reroute emergency power
to the holodeck.

Send an antimatter surge
through the shield matrix.

See if that'll
loosen their grip.

No effect.

We do have weapons.

No. lf they wanted
to destroy us,

they wouldn't be using
a tractor beam.

They're trying to rescue
their crew member.

Captain...

This isn't about logic, Tuvok,
it's about instinct.

Now, l may not speak
their language,

but l have a gut feeling

they don't want an armed
conflict any more than we do.

Bridge to Doctor.

What's your status?

The procedure's working.

Almost there, Captain.

lt's losing motor control.

The tendrils are withdrawing

from her lungs,
liver, kidneys...

The alien's life signs
are failing.

We need a substitute
for the metabolic energy

it was taking from B'Elanna.

Could we restore
its own metabolism?

Perhaps. Give it
40 milligrams of stenophyl.

lt's going
into anaphylactic shock.

All right.

lncreasing the dosage
to 60 milligrams...

We've lost power
on Decks 7 through 12.

Shields are failing, Captain.

Doctor?

Stand by, Captain.

Anaphylaxia is subsiding.

lts electrolytic reactions
are increasing.

lts metabolism is
stabilizing on its own.

Bridge, beam the life-form
to its ship.

Transport complete.

The alien ship is
withdrawing, Captain.

You're welcome.

l've released B'Elanna
to her quarters.

Her condition?

Stable, but her nervous system
has suffered extreme trauma.

She'll need time to recover--
several days, at least.

Good work.

l should caution you, Captain--

when l told her
that we'd used Moset's program,

she was unhappy,
to put it mildly.

l nearly had to sedate her.

lt sounds like her Klingon
temper has fully recovered.

lt practically qualifies
as a chronic condition.

l'll speak to her.

There's one more topic
of concern.

Should we delete the program

or keep Moset in our database
for future emergencies?

l'm inclined to leave
this up to you, Doctor.

You are the Chief Medical
Officer on this ship.

As far as l'm concerned,
there's no one

more qualified than you
to make that decision.

Thank you, Captain.

But please make it quickly.

l'm eager to resolve
this matter.

There's been enough
moral controversy

on this ship for one day.

Come in.

At ease.

lnteresting fragrance.

l'm surprised it hasn't set off
the environmental alarms.

lt's a combination
of mental relaxant

and expeller of demons.

lt's an ancient Klingon remedy.

Feeling any better?

l'm alive.

l hope you can understand

why l went against
your wishes, B'Elanna.

Losing you was unacceptable.

l know you're angry, but we
need to put this behind us.

Understood?

ls that an order?

Yes.

You can't order someone to get
rid of an emotion, Captain.

And what emotion is that?

You had no right
to make that decision for me!

l'm the Captain.

You're my crewman.

l did what l thought best.

l get the feeling there are
still a few demons in the air.

Let's hope this does
the trick, hmm?

Doc...

how's our patient?

Recuperating.

We did it.

Yes... we did.

A celebration is in order.

How about listening to that
opera you promised me?

Oh, you're, uh...

still wrestling with
your ethical subroutines.

Take my advice.

lt's a waste of time.

What's important is that
we saved two lives today.

l'm not concerned with today.

lt's tomorrow l'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.

Personally, l predict a long
and fruitful collaboration

between us.

Oh?

Think about what we accomplished
in the last 24 hours.

Our first case was a triumph.

Both patients are thriving

and we advanced the frontiers
of medical science.

l've already outlined a paper

that you and l
will one day present

to the Federation
Medical Academy:

''Total Systemic lnvasion
of a Klingon-human Hybrid

By a Cytoplasmic
Pseudo-parasite.''

Has a nice ring to it,
don't you think?

Are we also going to tell them

where you honed
your surgical techniques?

A footnote, perhaps--

''For further details,
see Cardassian death camps.''

Those techniques
were crucial this morning.

Where was your sarcasm then?

l didn't come here to debate
the issue with you, Crell.

l came here to inform you
of my decision.

''lt is my judgment that
the Medical Consultant Program

''and all the algorithms
contained therein

''shall be deleted
from the database.

''ln light of recent evidence,

''l cannot in good conscience
utilize research

that was derived
from such inhuman practices.''

''ln 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.''

''Do no harm...'' you have
no right to say those words.

Computer...

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 l
really so different?

Computer, delete
Medical Consultant Program

and all related files.