VIRTUAL SEASON 7.5

episode 24

Hero for the Times

by Julie

Prologue:

"Personal log, Stardate 55559.1, EMH reporting.

"Last night Mister Neelix threw his official 'Welcome to the
Alpha Quadrant' party to celebrate the fact that Voyager crossed
into the Alpha quadrant during our last jump. That was due to
Lieutenant Carey's improvements on the slipstream technology that
allowed the ship to remain in the slipstream for three thousand
light years instead of a mere one thousand. Though the quadrant
divisions are arbitrary, and we are still some distance from
Federation space, simply being in Alpha quadrant has cheered the
crew considerably. I share in their elation, but it was the
captain's announcement last night that elicited my greatest
gratification. After several failed attempts to establish direct
contact between Voyager and Starfleet, Lieutenant Torres and the
estimable Lieutenant Barclay have finally overcome the problem
with the slipstream displacement effect. The method of contact
involves a phased tachyon beam tapping into a quantum
singularity's faster-than-light transference effect...well, what
it really means is that I can finally talk directly with my
publisher and finalize a contract to publish of my holonovel.

"This development does leave me limited time to add the final
polish to 'Hero for the Times,' though I must admit with all
modesty that there is little room for improvement. Due to several
requests I've also scheduled a premiere of my holonovel for
tomorrow night. I suppose the crew does deserve to see my work
before the general public, if only to be able to say they knew me
when.

"In the meantime, I have acquiesced to Lieutenant Paris's
suggestion that he act as my 'beta' and give me his opinion of
'Hero for the Times' before I unveil it to the crew. My holonovel
is intended to appeal to the broadest cross section of the
general public, and I suppose no one has more understanding of
common tastes than Lieutenant Paris. Given his past holoadventure
forays, I expect he will have nothing but praise for my creation.

"End log."

^*^*^*^*^

Smoke from the mangled consoles filled the bridge of the battered
starship. The captain pulled herself up from the deck and pushed
away the strands of hair that had escaped from her top bun. She
reached through the haze for the comm pad on her chair, her
fingers stretching to make contact.

"ECH to the bridge! Emergency! ECH to the bridge!" the captain
rasped.

Another hit rocked the ship and the captain was thrown against
the helm console, but her desperate plea was answered as moments
later the turbolift opened and the Emergency Command Hologram
exited. He strode confidently to the captain's chair, stepping
over the moaning form of the Ops officer, unfazed by the smoke
and debris around him.

"Helm, execute maneuver Alpha Beta Delta Phi Epsilon Tau Omega
Four Dash Two Six Eight One," The ECH ordered as he began to
press pads on the captain's console.

"Yes, sir," the helm officer replied as he flipped an errant lock
of hair back from his sweaty, smoke-streaked forehead.

"Tactical, prepare to fire on my order."

"Aye," the tactical officer rumbled, his hands moving rapidly
over his console.

"Get ready...FIRE!"

The USS Valorous executed a sharp turn as the phaser banks fired,
and the large, black, pyramid-shaped ship that had been pounding
the Valorous exploded into an even larger ball of fire and
debris. The Valorous rocked in the shock wake of the other ship
for several moments before everything stilled again. As the haze
began to clear on the bridge, various crewmembers picked
themselves up from the deck. Helmsman Don London brushed his
mussed blond hair into a semblance of order, and touched a small
cut on his forehead as he retook his seat. Tactical officer
T'Ubark growled as he stood, baring his sharp Klingon teeth and
ignoring his dislocated right shoulder. Captain Fayray helped Ops
officer Derry Whim to his feet.

"Are you all right?" the captain asked as Whim swayed alarmingly.

"Fine, Captain," Whim murmured as he staggered back to his
console, wiping the blood from his face so that his spots were
again visible.

"Derry's symbiont has been through much worse in its past eight
lives," London said, flashing Whim a wicked grin.

The captain approached the command chair. "ECH, once again you've
saved the day."

The ECH vacated the command chair gracefully. "Thank you,
Captain." He held out his hand, but Captain Fayray grabbed him in
a motherly hug.

"That was a great maneuver, sir," London said with admiration.

"You have the heart of a true warrior," T'Ubark rumbled.

"Indeed," the captain agreed fervently. "Who knew having a
holographic officer onboard would be so critical to our survival,
and the survival of the Great Galactic Confederation? You're a
hero like no kind ever before. What would we do without you?"

"Perish?" the ECH suggested as Fayray finally released him and
took her command chair.

"Captain?"

Fayray turned to her Bolian first officer, Shocklattee, who was
looking at her with an expectant expression.

"Oh, yes." The captain turned her gaze to the viewscreen. Then
she closed her eyes and furrowed her brow in concentration. "I
sense...no more anger, hatred, or intent to destroy. I sense
only...nothingness."

"No kidding," London muttered. "They're dead."

Captain Fayray patted Shocklattee's shoulder. "Thank you as
always for your silent support, Number One."

"I protested this mission," Shocklattee reminded her.

"Right. Well, it doesn't matter since we have the ECH." She
flashed the ECH a blinding smile. The turbolift opened again, and
a small figure burst out. "Ah, Lieutenant Mors," the captain
said. "How are the engines?"

"Lieutenant Mors-Whim," the chief engineer reminded her. "And you
should know how the engines are doing, Captain."

"Of course." The captain closed her eyes again. "They
are...purring with contentment."

"Thanks to the EEH." Mors-Whim Alana walked toward the Ops
station. "He stopped that warp core breach two days ago, and his
reconfiguration of the warp matrix is the reason they survived
this latest encounter with the Dork with no serious damage."

"Hey, Alana," Derry Whim said, tweaking her earring as she
stopped next to him. They kissed quickly.

Though Captain Fayray smiled indulgently, T'Ubark gave them a
look of disgust. "Romance does not belong on a starship bridge."

"Oh, chill out, T'Ubark," London said, earning a scowl from the
Klingon.

//Sickbay to EMH.//

The ECH exchanged looks with the captain. "Onscreen."

A statuesque and completely bald woman appeared on the
viewscreen. Her expression was serene. "There are several injured
crewmen in Sickbay requiring treatment."

"Life-threatening injuries?" the ECH asked.

"No. It is merely an assortment of broken bones and superficial
wounds. However, I do need your attention regarding
another...urgent matter."

"An...urgent matter. Of course." The ECH winked at her. "I'll be
right there."

The viewscreen cleared and the ECH turned to the Fayray. "I must
get to Sickbay immediately, Captain. Debin urgently requires my
presence."

The ECH flickered and a moment later his command gold uniform
changed into medical blue. He strode to the turbolift, then
halted as the applause sounded behind him. The EMH turned and
raised a hand in acknowledgment. Then he stepped into the
turbolift and the door closed on his benevolent, smiling face.

"So ends this thrilling adventure of the Universal Starship
Valorous and the amazing exploits of its hologram turned hero," a
voice-over announced.

"Computer, freeze program."

The scene froze as requested, and Voyager's doctor turned to Tom
Paris. "That's it. What did you think?"

Tom looked at the motionless figures on the simulated bridge.
Then he met the doctor's expectant gaze. "It was
definitely...eventful."

The doctor smiled broadly. "Yes, it is quite rousing, isn't it?
Bold, adventurous, yet with a certain amount of insight. The
characters are well drawn, don't you think? And the hero is
especially engaging."

"If you do say so yourself?" Tom asked dryly. "Doc, have you
noticed that these 'fictional' characters of yours bear a strong
resemblance to Voyager's crew?"

"You think so?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "The heroic hologram looks exactly like
you."

The doctor shrugged. "I do admit, there are some resemblances."

"Some?!"

The doctor continued as if he hadn't heard Tom's incredulous
rejoinder, "You're aware of that old adage--write what you know.
I did draw upon my own experiences, but this crew isn't really
similar to Voyager's crew. The captain is a Betazoid, and the
first officer is a Bolian--"

Tom snorted. "So the captain reads minds, and Chakotay is blue."
Even Tuvok was recognizable under that Klingon forehead. He had
to admit B'Elanna looked cute with those wrinkles on her nose,
but that wasn't the point. "They *look* like the real crew. Then
there are the names. Don London, for instance. Even if the name
takeoff wasn't obvious, he could be my twin."

The doctor studied the frozen helmsman, then shook his head. "His
hair is longer, and blonder. He also has more of it."

Tom frowned. "Don London" might wear his hair longer, and
blonder--a bottle job from the looks of it--but he certainly
didn't have more of it. "I noticed he also has a tendency to make
irreverent comments."

"True," the doctor agreed unexpectedly. "But he's actually
funny."

Tom glared at the doctor's smug smile. "The point is--"

"That he's not like you. For one thing he's not married. He's
quite the ladies' man in fact, with a woman in every port."

As if he hadn't had that reputation in the past. Tom shook his
head. "Doc--"

"And in my holonovel the chief engineer chose to marry the ops
officer."

Tom followed the doctor's gaze. Mors-Whim Alana was practically
wrapped around Derry Whim, their lips millimeters apart. The
sight annoyed him. "B'Elanna would never use a hyphenated name--"

"Ah, but that's just it!" the doctor said triumphantly. "She's
not B'Elanna. These people *aren't* the Voyager crew. Any
resemblance is only coincidental."

Tom decided to try a different tack. "Fine. Maybe you're right,
Doc."

The doctor's eyebrows rose at Tom's acquiescence. "I'm glad you
see my point."

"I do. In your holonovel the emergency hologram does every job on
the ship better than the highly trained crew, while they all sit
helplessly, waiting for him to save the ship with his
unbelievable range of talents. How ludicrous is that?" Tom
clapped the doctor companionably on the shoulder. "It *is*
complete fiction, and a comedy to boot."

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "You might recall that I have saved
this ship a time or two, including while I was in command. As I
have proved quite frequently, holograms are beings of immense
versatility."

"Not to mention immense egos," Tom said. Before the doctor could
reply, he added, "It might make more sense to have a crew with
some expertise, instead of a bunch of bubbleheads."

"Bubbleheads?" the doctor repeated Tom's unfamiliar phrase. "I've
portrayed the Valorous crew as merely mediocre, to give the
emergency hologram the opportunity to display his best qualities.
Which, I must point out, is a common fictional technique. In
fact, it's the classic presentation of a superhero. Consider
Earth's Superman, or Bajor's Katu San, or, dare I mention your
favorite, Captain Proton."

Damn. He should have seen that coming. Still, it wasn't the same
thing. Captain Proton was a private role-playing holoadventure,
not a holonovel for mass consumption. "Maybe," Tom conceded. "But
Captain Proton bears no resemblance to reality. The similarities
in your novel are obvious, and I doubt the crew will see it as
flattery."

"I suspect the crew will understand the concept of creative
license."

Tom wasn't so sure. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow night at
your premiere."

"Yes we will," the doctor agreed heartily. "In the meantime, I
have a few minor details to refine. Now that we'll have face to
face contact with the Alpha quadrant, my publisher will be eager
to see the finished product. Despite your criticism, I would like
to solicit your opinion on one last matter, Mister Paris. What do
you think of my holonovel's marketability?"

Tom started to make a snide comment, but the doctor was looking
at him intently, obviously deferring to his greater experience, a
rare occurrence. Tom looked again at the scene before him.
Despite similarities the Voyager crew might find unflattering,
the implausibly narrow escapes, campy villains, and often
overblown dialogue, the holonovel escaped the surest death stroke
of any story. It wasn't boring. In fact it was fast-paced, and
funny, if sometimes unintentionally. It was also filled with
larger than life, if derivative, characters, like the brain-
sucking Dork.

The public would eat it up.

Tom sighed, and spoke the truth. "I predict a bestseller."

^*^*^*^*^

Act One:

Janeway looked around at her assembled officers after the final
briefing report had been read. They'd been attentive, as
attentive as they could be considering the news that had been
announced last night. She put them out of their suspense.
"Regarding the faster-than-light communication..."

Everyone smiled, though none so broadly as Harry Kim.

"Captain, the singularity we're using to direct the tachyon beam
will allow us to remain in direct contact for twenty-three point
four minutes a day," B'Elanna said.

"That's all?" Harry asked, sounding a little disappointed.

B'Elanna nodded. "That's actually a large amount of time. If we
were still in the Delta quadrant the transmission window might be
as short as seven or eight minutes."

"We'll happily take whatever we can get," Janeway said. "Now, for
the specifics...four crewmembers per day will be given five
minutes of direct communication with their families, and the
final three plus minutes will be used for official briefings with
Starfleet. The computer has randomly assigned numbers one through
one hundred forty-three to each member of the crew, and that will
be the order in which you'll talk to your families. Your numbers
will be posted to your Personal Message file at sixteen hundred
hours. Commander, if you can make that announcement to the rest
of the crew?"

Chakotay answered, "Yes, Captain."

"We'll be home in a couple of months. This FTL communication is a
little superfluous."

Harry gave his best friend a horrified look. "Bite your tongue,
Tom!"

"We cannot be certain that the rest of our journey will be
without incident, Mister Paris. It is possible our arrival will
be unexpectedly delayed."

Harry switched his annoyed look from Tom to Tuvok.

"I think we are all eager to talk to our loved ones, regardless."
Janeway smiled. "After almost eight years I know I am. Now, if
there are no other matters--"

"Captain, our supply of fresh foodstuffs remains at marginal
level. At this moment the replicators are at full power; however,
once we use the slipsteam again they will be unavailable for
several days. If we are unable to resupply in the next few days,
it may be necessary to implement rationing before we re-enter the
slipstream."

The captain nodded at Tuvok's observation. Targeting their exit
from the slipstream in sparsely populated areas of space when
possible was a necessary security precaution to avoid potential
conflicts when the ship's systems--including defense systems--
were temporarily compromised. It did, however, tend to limit
their access to supplies. During the last period between jumps
they hadn't found a single class M planet where they might
resupply, let alone any trading outposts or other ships. "I will
consider that proposal, Tuvok," Janeway said. "If there are no
further--"

"Actually, Captain, I did want to remind everyone that the
premiere of my holonovel is tomorrow night."

Since the doctor had mentioned it several times this past week,
Janeway doubted anyone had forgotten. She knew the doctor had
been feverishly working on his holonovel ever since B'Elanna had
announced the imminent success of the FTL project. "I'm sure none
of us will miss it, Doctor," she said. There was a general, if
not exactly enthusiastic, murmur of agreement.

"You are all in for a very memorable experience," the doctor
assured them.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes, and Tom looked anywhere but at the rest
of the senior officers. Janeway recalled that Tom had mentioned
something about giving the doctor feedback. She wondered if Tom
had already seen it--

"I have a brief announcement too."

Janeway looked at Chakotay, startled. He hadn't said anything to
her.

"Beginning this evening at seventeen-hundred hours the carpets
will be cleaned."

Janeway's mouth dropped slightly open, and everyone else stared
at Chakotay.

"*All* of them?" Tom finally asked.

"All of them," Chakotay replied. "I've worked out a schedule on
the computer to ensure that the cleaning will be as unintrusive
as possible. Crew quarters will be cleaned while the occupant or
occupants are on duty. I'll make a shipwide announcement to that
effect, and remind everyone to remove any clothing or small items
you don't want sucked into oblivion from the floors."

"How long is this going to take?" B'Elanna asked.

"Three days," Chakotay said. "The cleaning schedule is filed in
the general bulletin board if you want to view it. I've put
Ensign Ehsani from Services in charge of monitoring the process.
You can contact him or myself if you have any concerns or
questions."

No one spoke for several seconds until Janeway finally said,
"Dismissed."

"I have a question," Harry said to Tom and B'Elanna as they moved
to the door. "Why now, after seven years, and when we're due to
get home in a couple of months and turn the ship over for a
refit?"

B'Elanna shrugged, and Tom replied, "Maybe the captain wants to
give the ship a cosmetic lift before we arrive."

Except the captain didn't know about it. Janeway ignored the
momentary pang the words "turning the ship over" had given her as
she watched the senior officers depart. All except Chakotay. She
turned to him once the room cleared. "So, you finally decided to
clean the carpets?"

Chakotay grinned. "Better late than never, don't you think? I
wanted to do it several months ago but we ended up on New Hope,
and this is the first time since then that the replicators have
been at full capacity."

"I see."

"I wanted to make sure it is done right, so I replicated a Dyson
Cleanmaster Five-thousand. It's self-automated, with independent
suction tubes to get the dirt out of every nook and corner, a
fluid evaporator, and a molecular converter to recycle
everything. It even has its own force field to keep anyone from
walking on the carpet until its dry."

"Sounds impressive," Janeway said. She knew nothing about carpet
cleaners, so a Dyson whatever it was five thousand didn't mean
anything to her. "When the job is finished, I plan to go over
every centimeter of the ship with white gloves and I expect to
find not a speck of dirt."

Chakotay grinned at her imperious tone. "Don't worry, you won't
find even a nano-speck."

Janeway nodded, keeping her smile to herself as they walked out
of the briefing room together. She felt Chakotay's gaze on her
and looked quizzically at him. His expression was curious and a
little sly.

"So you have white gloves, huh?"

Janeway dashed whatever use Chakotay might have in mind for a
pair of white gloves. "It was just a figure of speech,
Commander."

^*^*^*^*^*^

Eighty-seven.

Harry shook his head as he walked toward the mess hall. He'd had
such high hopes when he'd accessed his PM file, only to discover
that he'd been assigned number eighty-seven on the FTL list. That
meant he wouldn't get to talk to his family for three weeks.
Heck, they'd almost be home by then.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry nodded to Joe Carey, who had just come around the corner,
and was smiling broadly.

"How'd you do?"

"Eighty-seven," Harry said.

"Sorry," Joe said sympathetically.

Harry shrugged. "How'd you do?"

"Number six."

"That's great, Joe," Harry said, and he meant it. Joe had been
away from his wife and kids for over seven years. No one deserved
the good fortune more.

Joe's smile reappeared. "Thanks, Harry. I've got to get down to
Engineering with this report. See you later. Oh, and watch out
for the force field."

Harry heard Joe's hasty warning behind him, but he was already
turning the corner. Before he could stop he walked smack into a
shimmering blue force field. There was no shock, just the sense
of hitting a wall with his face, which was hardly more pleasant.
Harry uttered an oath and stepped back, disconcerted for a moment
at having his way so unexpectedly blocked. Then he saw the large
green carpet cleaner in the middle of the field.

Harry scowled at machine as it plugged along silently, with
several of its suction tubes moving along the baseboard like arms
on an octopus. One would think a corridor traveled as heavily as
this one would be scheduled for cleaning late at night. So much
for the carpet cleaning being virtually "unintrusive."

Harry took the narrow path the machine had so generously allowed
along the far wall. A few moments later he walked into the mess
hall, a scowl still on his face.

The place was busier than usual. It looked like most of the first
shift had decided to eat dinner here. The captain and Commander
Chakotay were at a table with Tuvok, and he saw Tom and B'Elanna
at a far table with Naomi and Sam Wildman. Jenny Delaney waved to
him from another table, and he raised a hand in return as he got
in line behind Sue Nicoletti and Amanda Lang.

"Thirty-six isn't too bad," Amanda was saying as she accepted a
steaming bowl from Neelix.

"Not at all," Sue agreed. She noticed Harry behind them. "What
number did you get, Harry?"

"Eighty-seven."

"That's two ahead of me," Sue said as she took her bowl. "I guess
we'll be talking to our families on the same day."

Harry nodded and watched Sue and Amanda walked away.

"I'd trade with you, Harry, but my number is one hundred-twelve."

Harry turned as Neelix handed him a bowl of some sort of meat and
tuber stew. He decided not to ask. "That's okay, Neelix. Who are
you going to talk to?"

"I've received a couple of letters from entrepreneurs who are
interested in helping me open a restaurant when we get back. I
guess word of my culinary skills has reached the Alpha quadrant."

Neelix was beaming. Harry just muttered a noncommittal, "Uh huh."

"I've decided to talk to one of them and discuss terms."

"Good luck with that, Neelix."

"Thank you, Harry. Enjoy your dinner. Good evening, Ensign
Vorik."

Harry moved out of the way so Neelix could serve his next
customer. He looked up and saw Tom waving a hand, motioning him
over.

"Hi, Harry," B'Elanna said as he approached. "Have a seat."

Harry sat down next to Naomi, who was holding Miral on her lap.
Miral was playing with a plastic spoon and chattering to herself.

"So what number did you get?"

Harry frowned at Tom. "Is that all anyone's going to talk about
now? The captain should have posted the list on the public
bulletin board so everyone could satisfy their curiosity."

"Geez, sorrrry," Tom said, holding up his hands in surrender.
"You don't have to answer."

"Eighty-seven."

"That's not so bad," Naomi said. "My mom got number one hundred,
and I got one twenty-six."

"I got ninety-one," B'Elanna said.

Harry looked at Tom, who didn't jump to volunteer his number.
"What about you, Tom?"

"Ten."

"Ten?" Harry echoed. Tom didn't even look excited about it.
"Congratulations."

Tom didn't seem to notice Harry's surly tone. B'Elanna, however,
gave him a sharp look.

"Just think, you get to talk to your family in three weeks,
Harry," Naomi said, as if that fact was a cause for celebration.
"I'm really excited to talk to my dad. I didn't expect to even
get this chance until we got home. Waiting just makes the
anticipation even better, and besides, it will give me time to
think of all the things I want to say to him, and to ask him."

Harry looked at Naomi's wide smile and shining eyes. Great.
Shamed by a teenager.

"Harry, I'll trade numbers with you."

Harry stared at Tom. "You will?"

"Sure. I know how much you want to talk to your parents, and they
to you."

Harry noticed Sam and Naomi looking at Tom with mild surprise.
B'Elanna's gaze on Tom, however, was piercing and Tom avoided
looking at her.

"I'm sure your parents are just as eager to talk to you, Tom,"
Harry said.

"Probably. But, like Naomi says, waiting just makes the
anticipation even better."

"Tom--"

"Really, Harry," Tom said, interrupting B'Elanna. "I don't mind
trading at all."

Harry could see he didn't. He knew Tom and his father had been
exchanging letters, but face to face contact was something
different. Maybe Tom had cold feet. B'Elanna's irritated look
told Harry she was thinking the same thing.

Harry shook his head. "No, Tom. Your parents want to see you, and
to meet B'Elanna. And I know they must be dying to get their
first look at their granddaughter. I can wait until my turn."

B'Elanna gave Harry a grateful look and Tom shrugged
nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. "Okay. I just thought I'd
offer."

"I have to get back to the biolab and check on some results." Sam
said. She squeezed Tom's shoulder lightly as she stood, clearly
understanding the undercurrents of the conversation. "Naomi,
don't you have an assignment to finish?"

Naomi nodded and looked regretfully at Miral, who was busy
banging the plastic spoon on the table. Then she transferred the
baby into B'Elanna's arms. "Bye, Mirrie," she whispered, using
her pet name for Miral. Miral smiled at her. "Don't forget about
tomorrow, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna smiled. "I won't."

"Naomi's turn to babysit," Tom informed Harry, as Sam and Naomi
departed.

Harry knew Naomi was completely taken with Miral, but who wasn't?
He smiled at his goddaughter, who was reaching for the another
piece of silverware. Just looking at her cherubic face was enough
to lift the gloom from anyone's heart. Tom's parents would adore
her.

"We'd better go too, Tom. It's almost Miral's bedtime."

Tom nodded and took Miral as B'Elanna asked Harry, "Are you still
available at the end of the week?"

"You bet." Harry never missed his own chance to babysit. He waved
goodbye to his goddaughter and she waved back at him, giggling
over her father's shoulder.

Once they were gone, Harry sighed. He'd really wanted to accept
Tom's offer, but he was glad he hadn't. Three weeks was a long
time to wait, but he'd been waiting this long already, so what
was another twenty-two days? It wouldn't be so bad--

Harry jumped when his commbadge beeped.

//Gilmore to Kim.//

Harry smiled. "Hey, Marla."

//I'm not interrupting your dinner, am I?//

"Yeah, but around here that's usually a welcome interruption,"
Harry joked.

Marla laughed softly. Harry really liked that laugh.

//I get off shift early tonight. I thought you might want to get
together for a bit.//

"Sure. What time?"

//About ten?//

"Okay. My quarters? If you're hungry, I can whip you up a
replicated feast."

//I just had a sandwich, but by then I might be ready for coffee
and dessert.//

Harry grinned. "Cafe latte and creme brule it is."

//Mmm.// Marla nearly purred over the comm line. That was a
favorite combination of hers, as he well knew. //I'll definitely
be on time. See you then.//

"See you," Harry echoed as she signed off, glad he wouldn't have
a chance to sit alone brooding in his quarters tonight. It
occurred to him that he didn't know what number Marla had drawn
on the FTL list. She was close to her sister, and eager to see
Kaylyn again despite whatever else she might face when they got
home. Harry had tried to convince her that the captain would make
everything right for all of them, but he knew Marla never quite
believed him.

Harry began to eat his stew quickly. He'd let it get cold but he
hardly noticed; he was too eager to get back to his quarters and
prepare for Marla's arrival. He hoped she had gotten a low
number, so she could talk to Kaylyn soon. Maybe a heart-to-heart
with her sister would help make the shadows that sometimes crept
across her eyes go away.

^*^*^*^*^*^

A hint of jasmine? Or maybe Betazoid mist blossoms, Janeway
thought as the turbolift closed behind her. Whatever the trace of
scent that lingered on her bridge, she could tell the carpet
cleaner had been here during the night. But she had other things
to think about right now.

"Report."

Tuvok responded before she'd seated herself in her captain's
chair. "Captain, we have detected a planetary system on long-
range sensors. The fourth planet is Class M. We are still too
distant to determine if it is inhabited."

"How long will it take to get there?" Janeway asked.

"Four days."

They were due to attempt the slipstream again in four days. That
would likely be delayed a day or two if they found a civilization
willing to trade, or an uninhabited planet with edible
vegetation. But the delay would be worth it, no question. "Keep
monitoring the system, Tuvok. Mister Paris, alter course to
intercept."

"Aye, Captain."

As Tom punched numbers at his console, Janeway sat back into her
chair and relaxed, her hands still wrapped around the warm cup of
coffee she'd just started to drink in the mess hall before she'd
been summoned to the bridge. She took a long gratifying sip.

"Good day so far, Captain?"

Janeway smiled at Chakotay. "It's starting out that way,
Commander. It will get better if this class M planet turns out to
be a bread basket for us."

"The crew is in a very good mood knowing they'll be talking to
their families soon."

Janeway nodded. She was very glad to see her crew so happy. They
certainly deserved it. "It will be another four weeks before I
talk to my family, but I'm looking forward to it."

"You didn't do so well in the draw either, Captain?" Lieutenant
Kim asked.

"Ninety-nine," Janeway said. She'd already heard where her senior
officers and most of the crew had placed in the draw. That kind
of news traveled faster through the ship than Voyager was moving
through space. She was happy that Tuvok had drawn a low number,
and Tom too. She knew Harry had to be disappointed at his draw,
but he seemed cheerful this morning in spite of it. "If nothing
else, my high number proves that there are no extra perks for
being captain."

Chakotay grinned at her rueful comment. "Maybe I should have a
talk with the computer about that."

Janeway chuckled. "Yes, maybe you should."

"I'll trade numbers with you, Captain."

Startled, Janeway looked at Tom. His expression was earnest.
"Lieutenant Paris, are you trying to score extra points with me?"
she asked, her tone sharp.

Tom looked confused for a moment, then he smirked. "Yeah, I'm
hoping for a pay raise."

"No go, Lieutenant," Janeway replied dryly. She been kidding, of
course. For all his brashness and occasional irreverence, Tom
wasn't a bootlicker. "You'll have to make do with the same
rations as everyone else." Then she said more seriously, "I am
anxious to talk to my mother and sister, but no more anxious than
you must be to talk to your family."

Tom shrugged. "We've been writing back and forth for a year now.
We'll see each other in a couple of months if all goes well, so
this really isn't any big deal."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Janeway said. She knew how eager Admiral
Paris was to meet his daughter-in-law and see his new
granddaughter. But he was even more eager to see his son again.
"Thank you for the thought, Tom, but the draw was fair. I can
wait." Before Tom could do anything more than nod, she added, "By
the way, the doctor has requested your presence Sickbay today at
thirteen hundred hours."

"I thought the FTL window didn't open until fourteen-thirty."

"Fourteen twenty-nine to be exact. It seems the doctor needs time
to prepare himself."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Right."

"Tom, are you going to tell us what the doctor's holoprogram is
all about?"

Tom shook his head. "I'm sworn to secrecy."

"Come on, Tom. Just a hint about the general plot? Is it a
comedy? Mystery? Romance?"

"Sorry, Har. You'll just have to wait and see."

"A surprise can be a enjoyable thing, Lieutenant," Chakotay said
to Harry.

"Oh, yeah."

Tom's drawled comment was low enough that Harry couldn't hear
him, but Janeway did. She'd been a little leery about what the
doctor might have cooked up, given his flair for the dramatic,
but the irony in Tom's voice made her wish momentarily that she
had somewhere else to be tonight.

"Captain, a ship has just appeared on our sensors."

At Tuvok's curt announcement the relaxed atmosphere on the bridge
evaporated and everyone turned quickly to their stations.

"The ship is of unknown design and origin," Harry said, to no
one's surprise. Though they'd made it to the Alpha quadrant, they
were still too distant from the Federation to encounter any known
races. "It's large, about five times the size of Voyager, but the
weapons appear to be of the standard defensive variety."

"The ship's course indicates it may have originated from the
class M planet we detected on our long-range sensors," Tuvok
added.

"It is the only planet out here," Tom noted.

"Tuvok, as soon as we are in range, initiate hailing
frequencies."

"We are in range...now. However"--Tuvok looked up--"they are
hailing us, Captain."

Janeway exchanged a quick glance with her first officer. "Open a
channel."

After a moment the starfield on the front viewscreen winked out,
replaced by the visage of two humanoid beings standing on a
ship's bridge. They were both slender with longish faces, and
dark hair elaborately styled in a braided fashion on top of their
heads. Their pale skin had a slight greenish cast to it, and
their eyes were a startlingly brilliant gold. They wore similar
tunics with insignias on them. They both wore grim expressions,
and the slightly shorter of the two spoke first.

"I am Repaas, captain of the Maruuk, representative of the
Shaal'ra. You are approaching our territory."

"Greetings, Captain Repaas. I am Kathryn Janeway, captain of the
Federation starship Voyager. We are returning home from a very
far distance. We are simply passing through this area. We mean
you no harm."

"We see few visitors in our territory, Captain Kathryn Janeway."

Janeway wasn't sure if he was referring to the isolated position
of their system, or if he meant they allowed few to cross their
territory. "We respect your boundaries, Captain Repaas. We simply
request passage, and perhaps an exchange of supplies."

"Passage is allowed under certain conditions," Repaas said.
"However, we have specific rules about trading with other
species."

"As do we," Janeway replied. "We don't wish to interfere with
your culture in any way. We are low on food supplies, and I would
interested in negotiating a limited trade."

Repaas' stern, almost bored expression became alert. "Do *you*
have a trader?"

Janeway supposed that label might fit Neelix. She'd willingly
follow whatever proprieties were required to facilitate
relations. "Yes, I do."

"Perhaps we can do business, Captain Kathryn Janeway. We prefer
to negotiate in person."

"That can be arranged," Janeway said. "You are welcome to come
aboard Voyager to discuss the terms."

Repaas nodded. "That will be acceptable. At present course and
speed we will rendezvous with your ship in...four point six
hours. Until then, Captain Kathryn Janeway."

"We look forward to"--Janeway paused as the image on the
viewscreen blinked out--"meeting you."

"Not the most friendly greeting," Tom commented.

"At least they showed no hint of hostility," Chakotay said, and
Janeway nodded in full agreement.

"Captain, I will need to prepare security measures."

"Very well, Tuvok." Janeway knew how seriously Tuvok took the
presence of visitors on Voyager, but she also knew he found it
preferable to sending a Voyager contingent to an alien ship,
where his ability to provide security was limited.

"Guess this was a good time to clean the carpets after all,"
Chakotay said.

Janeway gave her grinning first officer a stern look, though she
couldn't keep her lips from twitching. As Tuvok left his station
and headed for the turbolift she turned to Harry. "Lieutenant,
keep scanning the planet. The more information we can gather
about the Shaal'ra, the easier it will be to negotiate a trade
agreement."

"Yes, Captain."

"Lieutenant Paris, keep the Maruuk on constant monitor status."

"Yes, ma'am."

Janeway didn't expect any trouble or surprises. Her instinct told
her Captain Repaas was being sincere. But on this journey they'd
learned to take nothing for granted.

^*^*^*^*^

"Ah, Mister Paris," the doctor greeted Tom the moment he walked
into Sickbay. "Good to see you."

Tom stopped short just inside the door. Good to see you? It was
1302 and the doctor wasn't chastising him for being late? "You
okay, Doc?"

"Certainly," the doctor replied cheerfully. "There are no
patients at the moment, and I finished the monthly inventory this
morning. I also filed the cross-vaccination research. Don't worry
about the lab reports on my desk. I'll take care of those when I
get back. You're welcome to access my music system; just keep it
low enough so you can hear any calls that come in."

No inventory to do, no reports to file--and he was welcome to use
the doc's music system? Tom shook his head. "Doc, you *sure*
you're okay?"

The doctor didn't answer Tom's repeated question as he strode
toward the door. "I'll be in the holodeck doing some last minute
adjustments to my holonovel before I talk to my publisher. Oh,
and by the way, Lieutenant, congratulations on your draw. You'll
be talking to your family very soon. I'm happy for you."

"Uh, thanks, Doc," Tom said, managing to speak in the midst of
his astonishment. "Good luck with your publisher."

The doctor smiled broadly. "Good luck is irrelevant. My work will
speak for itself. I expect that in the near future Emerson Holmes
will be a celebrated name in the holonovel circuit. But I won't
forget where it all started, or my friends here on Voyager."

"Glad to hear it, Doc," Tom muttered, but the doctor was already
gone. He frowned at the closed door. Two minutes of congenial
conversation, and not one sarcastic comment from the doctor?
Maybe he should call B'Elanna and ask her to do a diagnostic on
the doc's program to see if it had been altered...

Nah. He should just enjoy the doctor's preoccupation with his
dreams of holonovelist fame. Who was he to impinge on a rare good
mood?

Tom walked into the doctor's office, plopped himself down in the
doctor's chair, and kicked his feet up on the desk. He put his
hands behind his head and grinned. "Computer, access music
system."

//System accessed. Please specify music selection.//

"Hmm..."

"Lieutenant Paris."

Tom shot up in the chair, knocking the doctor's lab reports askew
as he hastily removed his feet from the desk. "Oh...hey, Icheb."

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Not at all," Tom said, straightening the lab reports. "What can
I do for you? Are you ill?"

Icheb shook his head. "I am well. I am returning my analysis on
Bolian enzyme reactions to the doctor."

Tom noticed the dataPADD in Icheb's hand. "Okay. You can just
leave that on the desk. The doctor won't be back until fifteen
hundred hours."

Icheb set the PADD on the desk. "I forgot. The doctor is making
his call home today."

Tom nodded. "To his publisher, to be exact. How'd you do on that,
Icheb?"

"I drew number fifty-nine," Icheb said. "I plan to contact a
professor in Exobiology at the Academy, Doctor Ch'Kasti. She is
the preeminent expert in the field and I want to ascertain if my
course of study is sufficiently challenging."

Tom studied the young man in front of him. "That's commendable,
Icheb, but wouldn't you rather talk to your adoptive family?"

Icheb looked surprised, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him.
"I have already been conversing with your parents in letters."

That prevarication had a familiar sound. Perhaps the kid was
nervous about facing Admiral Paris. Tom could understand the
feeling. His father could be intimidating. More likely, Icheb was
hesitant about making the first move in a relationship that was
so new to him, and unlike a relationship he'd ever had before,
since his birth family certainly didn't count. That gave Tom an
idea.

"I suppose you heard that I drew number ten."

Icheb nodded. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Paris."

"Tom," the acting medical officer reminded him. He decided he
liked his sudden inspiration a lot. He also told himself it was
only because he wanted to include Icheb, and that diverting
attention from himself had nothing to do with it. "Icheb, why
don't you join B'Elanna and I when we talk to my parents?"

Icheb looked startled, then discomfited. "Your time will be
limited, and I'm sure your parents want to spend that time
talking to you, Lieu--Tom. They haven't seen you for many years."

"I'm sure they'll be happy to see me, but they are just as eager
see my family--B'Elanna, and Miral. And you. You're part of our
family now too."

Icheb looked uncertain. "I don't want to--"

"I insist," Tom said before Icheb could say something ridiculous
like "intrude." "And I won't take no for an answer."

Icheb's eyebrows rose at Tom's uncompromising tone. "You won't?"

Tom's lips quirked. "No, I won't. I think my time is fourteen
thirty-four day after tomorrow, but I'll check to be sure. I'll
expect you to meet B'Elanna and me in front of briefing room
then."

"Very well, Tom. Since you insist."

Tom grinned at the gleam in Icheb's eyes, and noticed the kid's
shoulders had relaxed. He could really get to like this big
brother thing.

"I must go. Commander Chakotay is meeting me in the geoscience
lab to advice me on my paleontology project."

"You better go then. It wouldn't do to be late."

"I am never late," Icheb said.

Tom laughed. "We're definitely nothing alike. I guess that makes
us perfect brothers."

Icheb looked baffled at that reasoning, but after a moment he
smiled, accepting Tom's assertion. "I think I will enjoy being
brothers, Tom."

Tom smiled back. "So will I, Icheb."

^*^*^*^*^

Janeway stood silently, her official smile of welcome pasted on
her face. It faded just slightly as she looked at the three who
appeared on the transporter platform. She'd expected to greet the
captain and his officers from the Maruuk in their ship uniforms.
One of the Shaal'ra, the only female, was wearing a black
uniform, but the other two were wearing colorful if somewhat
timeworn tunics and leggings, and their hair hung long, straight
down their backs. All three were carrying duffel style bags, as
if they expected to visit for a while.

Janeway recognized the most colorfully dressed as Repaas. Though
she was a little distracted by the clothing, she stepped forward
to greet the other ship's captain. He jumped from the platform
lightly and held out his arms, palms up, before she could speak.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway, it is good to meet you. I respect your
custom of greeting a mere trader such as myself. However, I would
speak to your trader now rather than take up your valuable time."

Janeway nodded. "Certainly, Captain Repaas. This is my trader,
Neelix." She motioned and Neelix stepped forward, his own
brightly colored clothing looking oddly in concert with that of
the Shaal'ra.

Neelix smiled broadly and started to speak, but Repaas
interrupted him. "Captain Kathryn Janeway, I do not understand. I
was led to believe from Captain Repaas that I would be dealing
with *your* trader."

Now Janeway was confused. She glanced at Tuvok and Sarexa.
Sarexa's gaze was fixated on the Shaal'ra, her brow furrowed in
concentration. "I'm sorry," Janeway addressed the Shaal'ra
trader. "I must be mistaken. I thought you were Captain Repaas.
You look just like him."

The Shaal'ra woman in black stepped forward slightly on the
transporter platform and spoke to the trader. "Kineet, we have
been misled. They are like the other single-identity aliens who
have crossed our space."

Janeway's eyebrows rose at the term "single-identity." Perhaps
the computer's universal translator couldn't translate the
Shaal'ra term accurately. She felt a tap on her shoulder. "One
moment if you will...Kineet."

"Captain," Sarexa said quietly once Janeway had moved several
steps away from the transporter. "I believe these are
representatives of Species Seven Three One Seven. I have only
very limited information on them, but they are a species whose
brains are arranged differently than most humanoids. While most
humanoids have a single identity, their bodies house several
separate identities."

"Captain Kathryn Janeway," Kineet said impatiently. "Do you
possess a trader or not?"

Janeway turned back to the Shaal'ra representatives. Apparently
the universal translator was accurate. She wished they'd gotten
enough data from the primary scans of the planet to ascertain
this fact, but they weren't close enough yet. "If I understand
your meaning, no. We have a number of different species onboard
Voyager, all of whom possess only one identify."

"I see. It is unfortunate Captain Repaas did not recognize your
nature, however he is not the most discerning of captains."

Janeway had a moment's surprise at Kineet's disparagement of--
well, himself in a sense. Then the Shaal'ra woman in black
stepped forward. "As a ship's officer, I shall take over this
contact, Kineet."

"Yes, Metaar," Kineet said, stepping back.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway, there has been a miscommunication. We
must abort this negotiation."

"We did not intend to deceive you," Janeway said. "We wish
permission to cross your space, and to trade for supplies."

"We do not accuse you of deceit, nor blame you for your nature,
Captain Kathryn Janeway," Metaar said. "However it does preclude
us from trading with you. It is our policy to limit our
interactions with mentally disadvantaged species."

Kathryn caught Tuvok's raised eyebrow. "We are representatives of
a far-ranging federation of...single-identity species, all quite
advanced, as you can see from our ship." Lieutenant Kim had
estimated the technological level of the Maruuk to be roughly
equivalent to that of Voyager. "We do not consider ourselves
disadvantaged. We simply use our brains differently."

"Of course," Metaar said, with an edge of condescension.
"Do you require sleep?"

Sleep? "Yes. Though those of Commander Tuvok's species"--Janeway
nodded toward her security chief--"can go many days without
sleep."

Metaar glanced at Tuvok, then back at Janeway. "Interesting, yet
sleep is still required eventually. The necessity of sleep is a
known trait of a more primitive neurological structure. We have
met other species with such generalized brains. We would be
favored during intense negotiations by our highly specialized
abilities. It would be wrong to take unfair advantage of your
natural limitations."

Janeway bit back her frustration. She would like to learn more
about these people, since she was unaware of another species
where multiple identities manifested themselves in one body,
except for those species that housed symbionts. But more than
that, she'd hoped to refill Voyager's larder. "If you would
reconsider--"

"I regret that we cannot trade with you, Captain Kathryn Janeway.
However, if you still wish to pass through our space, the Maruuk
will escort your ship, and I will remain here as your Shaal'ra
envoy."

"Envoy?" Janeway asked.

"It is required for travel through our space," Metaar said. "We
must ensure that you obey our laws, but we will not interfere
with your ship's functions."

Janeway sighed. At least the Shaal'ra weren't insisting on flying
Voyager, or demanding the crew pass a test to cross their space.
"We accept your condition," she told Metaar. She nodded to Tuvok,
who strode to the transporter console and initiated the beam-out
of the other two Shaal'ra.

"This is my security chief, Commander Tuvok." Janeway made the
introduction as Kineet and his fellow trader disappeared. "He
will assign you quarters where you can freshen up and rest. His
department will also be overseeing your visit. You are welcome to
tour our ship and spend time in any unrestricted areas."

Metaar nodded. "Thank you, Captain Kathryn Janeway."

"Just 'captain' will be fine," Janeway said. She didn't relish
being repeatedly addressed by her full name over the next several
days.

"We appreciate your hospitality, and we will not intrude nor
interfere in any way."

Metaar's use of the pronoun "we" reminded Janeway of the obvious,
though she was briefly startled at the realization. "I assume we
will see other...identities during your stay?"

"I share this body with three other identities. Deliin is a
neurosurgeon, Lizaat is an artist, and Tineel is a political
analyst. We each experience periods of submergence--consistent
with your concept of rest--but I assure you the others will
observe all proprieties."

Neelix stepped up. "Captain, I would like to accompany Mister
Tuvok so I can plan a suitable menu for Metaar and her
companions."

Neelix smiled at Metaar, not hiding his curiosity, nor his
enthusiasm at the idea of learning more about the culinary ways
of the Shaal'ra, and adding more recipes to his database.

"Besides being a fine trader, Mister Neelix is also our resident
chef," Janeway told Metaar. "He'll do his best to provide you
with whatever suits your tastes while you're here."

As Tuvok ushered them out, Neelix began peppering Metaar with
questions about the diet and tastes of the Shaal'ra. Tuvok would
have a hard time getting a word in edgewise, but Janeway knew
he'd find a way.

"Captain, I'm sorry I didn't recall anything about this species
earlier."

Janeway shook her head. "There's no need to apologize." This far
from Borg space, she'd expected Sarexa might not know anything
about them at all. "You cued me in at the critical moment."

"The Borg only encountered them once, on a ship more than a
thousand light years from their home planet. They were a
difficult species to assimilate because of their unique brain
structure. Had their planet ever been reached by the Borg armada,
most would have been killed."

For a moment Janeway envisioned that frustrating hindrance to
Borg efficiency, having to confront one identity after another
before the assimilation was complete. Her spurt of satisfaction
faded at the realization that Sarexa was right. The Borg would
have chosen the more expedient course. She was glad the Borg
front line had never made it this far.

"The Shaal'ra possess technology roughly equivalent to that of
the Federation. Their military capabilities are adequate, though
they have little interest in conquest or empire-building. They
prefer to pour most of their resources into science and the arts.
That is all I recall about them."

"That's more than enough, Sarexa," Janeway assured her as they
exited the transporter room. "We have an opportunity to expand on
your knowledge. Hopefully, we'll know more about them by the time
we've crossed their space."

^*^*^*^*^

Act Two:

Harry Kim made another adjustment at the briefing room console.
The viewscreen flashed with momentary static, then the picture
cleared. "Okay, all set. If you have any questions or problems,
Doctor, I'll be waiting outside."

The doctor spared a quick glance at Kim. "I'm sure I'll be fine,
Lieutenant." Then his attention was focused curiously on the
portly man who appeared on the screen in front of him. "Ah,
Benson D'Williger, I assume?"

"Of course," the silver-haired man answered. His eyes narrowed in
his round face. "*You're* Emerson Holmes?"

The doctor nodded, smiling broadly. "As I mentioned before, it's
a pseudonym, though a catchy one don't you think? It's a
combination of my favorite poet and one of Earth's great literary
characters."

"I recognize the sources," Benson D'Williger said. "But I
expected--you're the doctor, aren't you?"

"That is my primary profession," the doctor replied. "Though I
have many other talents."

"But...the doctor is a hologram."

D'Williger's voice was perplexed, and the doctor wondered if the
man was dense, or if he never left his office. Perhaps he should
have chosen one of the other publishers, but it was too late now.
"That's correct, Mister D'Williger. I'm sure my image has
surfaced frequently in the Alpha quadrant. I'm surprised you've
missed it."

"I've seen it," D'Williger said. "I've seen images of all of you,
and I've spent the past few months wondering just who on Voyager
was using the pseudonym 'Emerson Holmes.' My best guess was
Lieutenant Paris--"

"Lieutenant Paris!" the doctor scoffed. "Believe me, his creative
reputation is vastly inflated."

"In any case, this is a problem. You shouldn't have hidden your
identity!"

The doctor frowned. That sounded almost like an accusation. "I
didn't! I signed my letters--" he paused. Starscape Galactic
Adventures had been among the second group of holographic
publishing houses to which he'd sent inquiry letters. By then
he'd finally decided on his pseudonym, and had used it as his
signature, since it seemed much more fitting for a holonovelist
than "Emergency Medical Hologram."

"You didn't tell me you were a hologram," D'Williger said, his
voice angry now.

"It was an oversight, I assure you. Besides, why--"

"An oversight? Are you sure you didn't use a pseudonym to hide
your true nature?"

The doctor bristled. That definitely was an accusation. "Of
course not! It was purely for dramatic effect. I did nothing
irregular. Many novelists use pseudonyms."

"Real novelists," D'Williger corrected sharply.

"I *am* a real novelist," the doctor protested. "I assure you 'A
Hero for the Times' is completely my own work, if that is your
concern."

"That doesn't really matter. You're a hologram, not a person. You
can't sign a contract."

"Can't sign a contract--that's ridiculous! I assure you I am not
your average hologram, Mister D'Williger. My programming is
extremely sophisticated and I am more than capable of signing a
simple contract!"

"Whether you've gone beyond your programming limitations is of no
interest to me. Federation law says you can't sign a contract,
and I can't say I disagree." D'Williger shook his head and his
lips curled. "It wasn't bad enough an android wanted to be
sentient, now we have holograms that don't know their place."

The doctor seethed, but he managed to hold his temper. "I've
received a dozen inquiries about 'A Hero for the Times.' If you
don't want it, that's your loss. I'll offer it to another
publisher--"

"Not much point in that, *Doctor*." D'Williger's smile was smug.
"The law's the law. No one is going to enter into a contract with
you. And now that I think about it, your holonovel was really not
up to our standards. Good day."

"Not--." the doctor sputtered as the screen went blank. A few
moments later he strode out of briefing room, more stunned than
angry. It had never occurred to him that being a hologram would
preclude him from signing a contract. After all, he was as
sentient as anyone on Voyager. And more sentient that that
buffoon D'Williger. This was just another example of the kind of
bias against photonic-based life that he'd already experienced
numerous times--

"Hey, Doctor!"

The doctor stopped, meeting the curious gazes of Harry Kim and
Mario Gennaro. "Are you finished already?" Harry asked. "You
still have a little over a minute left."

"I've finished my call, Lieutenant," the doctor said curtly. He
looked at Gennaro, who was practically bouncing on his heels in
anticipation. "You can start a little early with your call,
Ensign."

"Thanks, Doctor!" Gennaro said, grinning as he sprinted into
briefing room.

Harry stopped at the door. "Doc..."

"It was a productive call, Mister Kim," the doctor assured the
lieutenant, deflecting the concern in Harry's expression with a
smile.

"That's great, Doc."

The doctor sighed as Harry entered briefing room. He headed for
Sickbay, determined to look up the Federation laws pertaining to
contracts just to verify what D'Williger had told him. Maybe
there was a legal loophole, some fine print that would clarify
his status. After all, there were always loopholes. Then he'd
make a few minor changes in his holonovel before he contacted
another publisher. The story could use another villain. Perhaps a
malevolent species of sluglike creatures called Dewilligers...

^*^*^*^*^

"I thought you took care of that, Tom!"

Tom bounced his daughter gently in one arm as he matched
B'Elanna's breakneck pace, a testament of her temper. "B'Elanna,
I left before you this morning to take Miral to Naomi. You were
the last one out."

B'Elanna turned to scowl at Tom. "You're the one who dressed
Miral!"

"Okay, okay," Tom capitulated, "It was my fault. It must have
fallen out of the crib, and I didn't notice. We can always
replicate another one."

"Replicate another what?" Harry asked as he joined them.

"Miral's aqua blanket," Tom said. "The one with the warp core
design on it."

"The one the engineering staff gave her?" Harry asked
rhetorically. "What happened to it?"

B'Elanna growled, "That demonic carpet cleaner sucked it up!"

"Oh." Harry glanced at Miral, who was tugging at the collar of
Tom's shirt, paying no attention the conversation going on around
her. He chucked her lightly under the chin. "Maybe I can take
apart the cleaner and check its recycling buffer. The molecular
pattern might still be there--"

"Forget it, Harry," B'Elanna said. She put her hand on Tom's arm.
It really wasn't his fault neither of them had noticed the
blanket on the floor. "Thanks, anyway. I'm sure Sue still has the
design. But if I get my hands on that carpet cleaner..."

Harry grinned. "If Big Betsy knows what's good for her, she'll
stay out of your way."

"Who's Big Betsy?" Megan Delaney asked as she approached with her
sister, Jenny.

"The carpet cleaner," Harry told Megan.

"Oh. In Sciences we've been calling it the Mean Green Machine."

"In Helm and Navigation it's known as Octopussy," Tom said.

B'Elanna snorted. "Does every department need to have a name for
it?" She'd figured 'pain in the ass' would be suitable enough.

"Octopussy?" Jenny asked dryly. "Why do I think *you* came up
with that one, Tom?"

Tom grinned. "It's for the roving sucker arms. Plus it was the
title of this great James Bond movie from the twentieth century,
the one where Bond--"

"There's Tuvok," Harry said quickly, saving them all from a
detailed synopsis.

Tuvok approached with the Shaal'ra envoy. When she'd been
escorted through Engineering on a brief tour earlier she'd been
wearing a black uniform and her hair had been pulled back in a
severe bun. Now her hair was loose and flowing, and she was
wearing a gauzy pink dress that B'Elanna could only think of as
"frothy." Presumably this was a different identity.

"This is Lizaat," Tuvok said, and he proceeded to introduce each
of the gathered lieutenants in turn. B'Elanna assumed from
Lizaat's curious gaze that didn't remember meeting most of them
earlier as Metaar. She hadn't thought much about their visitor,
but it occurred to her now that the identities must be completely
separate. She wondered how or if they communicated with each
other. She also noticed that Lizaat's gaze lingered curiously on
Miral during the introductions.

"Lizaat is an artist," Tuvok informed them. "She is interested in
all forms of creative expression. She wished to experience the
doctor's holonovel debut."

"It is fascinating that your doctor is also artistic," Lizaat
said in a voice softer and lower-pitched than Metaar's.

"That's a matter of opinion," Harry said.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at Harry's sarcastic comment, then turned
to Lizaat. "Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay are now
present. They expressed a desire to meet you."

The captain and Chakotay were arriving from the opposite
direction and B'Elanna watched Tuvok and Lizaat move that way,
Lizaat walking with a fluid grace unlike the measured steps
Metaar had used in Engineering.

"Weird," Megan murmured. "I wonder what it would be like to share
your body with a bunch of other people."

"Could you imagine changing your outfit and hairstyle that many
times in a day?" Jenny pondered. "Bathroom privileges would be
hell."

Miral let out a small squeal at that moment, so timely that
everyone laughed. Then Miral said clearly, "No!"

"She's talking!" Jenny exclaimed.

Tom smiled. "She started a couple of days ago."

Jenny cooed at the baby. "Can you say 'Aunt Jenny'?"

"Dada!" said Miral, tugging hard on her father's shirt.

Tom beamed with pride. "Those are her only two words so far, but
she's not even nine months old yet."

"And Tom hasn't quit bragging," Harry said, grinning at Jenny and
Megan.

Megan ruffled Miral's short dark curls. "Your daddy has every
right to brag about you, doesn't he, sweetie?"

Miral smiled and chattered in incomprehensible baby talk.

"Looks like the novel's about to start," Harry said, and a moment
later they were joining the several dozen other crewmembers who
were pouring into holodeck one.

Tom, B'Elanna and Harry found three seats behind the captain and
first officer, and Tom settled Miral on his lap. "Don't worry,
sweetie," he whispered to her. "The doctor didn't lampoon you in
his holonovel. Unless you're supposed to be Schweitzer, the
hologram-loving Chihuahua who pees on everyone else's shoes."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. Tom had already given her a few hints
about the doctor's holonovel. She knew the doctor had derived his
characters directly from Voyager's crew. For Tom, amusement
seemed to win over affront--though that could be because he had a
soft spot for the doctor, even if he'd never admit it. She wasn't
quite as forgiving as her husband. Still, she'd promised him she
wouldn't reprogram the doctor into a pool boy at Neelix's resort.
She just wished he'd accepted her alternate offer to rewire the
holodeck so it would be unavailable tonight.

"Last I heard Tuvok had planned to meditate this evening," Tom
said as Tuvok and Lizaat took seats two rows in front of them.
"He'll wish he had once he watches T'Ubark being saved by the
Emergency Security Hologram just as his brain is about to be
sucked dry by a Dork."

B'Elanna suspected it was going to be harder than she'd thought
to keep her temper in check. She could only hope Miral got fussy
during the production, though she knew she probably wouldn't be
so lucky. Miral was fascinated by activity and by people, and she
only fussed when it was time to sleep. The doctor's appearance in
front of the audience diverted her pessimistic thoughts.

"Welcome," the doctor said, his voice surprisingly subdued.
"Thank you for attending this presentation of my holonovel, 'A
Hero for the Times'. Usually you would wander through the novel
as it progresses, but tonight the presentation will be in the
form of a stage play to accommodate the size of the audience. I
hope you find the experience enjoyable. Computer, begin program."

That was it? After all his prancing around during the past week
promoting his holonovel as the next masterpiece of literature, he
wasn't going to take advantage of his moment in the limelight?
B'Elanna whispered to Tom, "What's that about?"

"He was that way when he got back to Sickbay this afternoon. He
seemed preoccupied, and he rushed me out. He didn't want to talk
at all."

B'Elanna didn't have a chance to inquire further about the
doctor's lack of animation because the first scene opened. The
setting was a sickbay--not Voyager's Sickbay, but clearly a
sickbay on a starship. A man dressed in a white and green
uniform, his face easily recognizable as Voyager's doctor despite
the fuller head of hair with distinguished streaks of gray, moved
from behind a large desk and began to speak. "I am the emergency
hologram aboard the Universal Starship Valorous, defender class
vessel of the Great Galactic Confederation. Though I address you
now as the Emergency Medical Hologram, my function aboard the
Valorous is multifaceted. This is my story, the story of a hero.
Not just any hero, but a hero different from any other that has
come before, a hero of unprecedented nature and scope. A hero for
the times."

So it began.

^*^*^*^*^

"How much longer?" Janeway groaned in a low voice, right after
Captain Fayray sensed the hostility of the Putrigen, who raided
passing starships to steal their replicator systems. What amazing
insight.

"No idea," Chakotay whispered. His gaze was fixed on the
unfolding saga in front of them, where the Emergency Pilot
Hologram was expertly steering the ship away as a chain explosion
destroyed the Putrigen ships, while barely avoiding the debris
that spewed out in all directions.

"Can you believe this?"

Instead of answering her question, Chakotay chuckled as the EPH
accepted a round of applause while Don London looked at him with
undisguised awe, and Captain Fayray hailed his unparalleled
ingenuity and courage.

Janeway's eyes narrowed on her first officer. He was actually
enjoying this. He didn't seem to care that his alter ego
Shocklattee served no useful purpose at all on the Valorous
except to disagree with everything the cloying Captain Fayray
said.

As if he felt her annoyed gaze, Chakotay fingers brushed hers.
"Come on, you have to admit this is pretty funny."

"Hmphh," Janeway muttered. Trust Chakotay to take it lightly. She
returned her attention to the holonovel as the scene switched to
the mess hall, where antipathy was running high.

"Feedus, what is this tripe?!" the youthful Achoob demanded, as
he knelt next to a prone Andorian girl.

The Ferengi cook sneered at the young Rigellian. "Excellent
deduction, Achoob. Your brain is good for something. It is tripe.
The stomach of a Ferengi firebeast, to be exact."

There were a chorus of groans and yucks amongst the gathered
diners. Feedus shrugged at them all. "If you want something else,
you'll have to pay me."

A pained expression marred the blue face of the Andorian girl and
her antennae twitched alarmingly. "Look at Meoni!" Achoob
snapped. "She's obviously ill. You poisoned her!"

"I did not poison her!" Feedus said indignantly. "It's not my
fault her system is so delicate."

"Tell that to S'Manda when she gets here," Achoob said. "She'll
have you by the ear again. Hopefully both of them."

Feedus touched his sensitive earlobes as two female Orion
crewmembers knelt on either side of Achoob. "The EMH is on his
way," one of them reported.

"Thanks, Pagan," Achoob said gratefully.

"You're welcome," Pagan replied as she rubbed Achoob's tense
shoulder. Ninny began to expertly massage the other shoulder.
Feedus frowned. "Hey, why don't you ever do that to my ears?"

The two Orions ignored Feedus and continued their ministrations.

Feedus reached into his pocket. "What if I just happen to have an
antidote for Ferengi tripe fever? It costs a mere two hundred
credits"--The sisters and Achoob glared at him--"or I'll accept
an earlobe massage. *Both* earlobes."

"Never mind your latest attempt at extortion, Feedus," the EMH
said, pushing past the Ferengi, as his Chihuahua Schweitzer
followed at his heels. "I have arrived."

"Thank gods," Achoob said fervently as the EMH began examining
his patient. Schweitzer bared his teeth at Feedus, who bared his
teeth back. While the two tried to out-intimidate each other, the
EMH pressed a hypo to Meoni's arm.

"Yes, thank gods," Chakotay echoed, mirth in his voice. Janeway
rolled her eyes.

After a moment, Meoni's eyes fluttered open. She sat up and
smiled warmly at the EMH. It was not a second too soon as S'Manda
came bursting into the Mess hall, her antennae laid back against
her head. "What happened to my little girl?!" she shrieked.

Meoni stood up. "I'm fine, Mom. The EMH cured me. And I'm not a
little girl, remember?"

S'Manda turned to the EMH. "I don't know how to thank you, EMH.
Again."

"No, need for thanks, Lieutenant Wailmom," the EMH said
cheerfully. "I'm just doing my job."

"While you're here, I don't suppose you'd like to become the
Emergency Chef Hologram for a few minutes?" Achoob asked, glaring
at Feedus again. "We haven't had a decent meal since the Kapon
invaders forced the replicators to mass-produce coffee so they
could corner the market in the Delta quadrant."

"I suppose I could whip up a simple soufflé du frommage to feed a
hundred or so--"

//Engineering to EEH.//

"Go ahead, Lieutenant Mors-Whim."

//We need you down here right away. The warp matrix is in full
flux.//

"On my way, Lieutenant."

"I guess that's why you're called the 'emergency' hologram,"
Meoni said. "There are so many of them on this ship."

The EMH sighed dramatically. "Yes, my work is never done."

"Too bad there aren't more of you," S'Manda lamented as the EMH
flickered and reappeared in an engineering uniform.

"It is unfortunate," the EEH agreed. "You'll just have to fend
for yourselves here tonight," he called as he left, Schweitzer
scampering after him.

"Or eat the dinner I've already prepared," Feedus said, revealing
his crooked teeth in a satisfied grin. "Since no one else on
board can cook."

"Doesn't Don London make a pretty decent peanut butter and jelly
sandwich?" Meoni asked. Her fellow diners nodded in frantic
agreement as the scene faded.

"That was the halfway mark."

Janeway heard Tom's low comment to B'Elanna, followed by the
chief engineer's throaty growl as the engineering room of the
Valorous appeared and the emergency hologram rushed in, ready to
save the ship once more.

Janeway sighed again. Only six more heroic acts of unparalleled
ingenuity and courage to go.

^*^*^*^*^

This crew of Voyager was more interesting than Lizaat had
expected considering their single-identity nature, and their
inferiority, confirmed by the doctor's holonovel. Though names
and appearances had been marginally altered, his work was clearly
autobiographical. She had been fascinated as his true nature had
been revealed, and she was equally curious about these aliens he
chose to live among. She would have much to relate once she could
record her thoughts into her subdermal processor, but she wasn't
in any great hurry to return to her quarters.

Commander Tuvok had stepped a few meters away to speak with
another security officer, leaving her to observe the crew. Though
Tuvok had evidenced no reaction to the holonovel due to the
unemotional nature he'd indicated of his species, others had
reacted in a variety of ways. Moments ago the captain had called
the holonovel ridiculous and the doctor ego-driven, while her
first officer had referred to it as harmless and amusing. The two
were still arguing the subject, though with no real animosity, as
if the argument was more of an enjoyable exercise than a crucial
disagreement.

The twins she'd been introduced to earlier were among the next
group to exit the holodeck. The one named Jenny appeared angry,
while the other calmly comforted her twin. In that sense they
must be like the Shaal'ra. Duplicate womb pairings did not
produce duplicate identities.

"It was insulting!" Jenny said, her steps hard on the carpet.

"I thought it was kind of funny," Megan said. "Aren't you the one
who once said it would be fun to be an Orion woman and have men
fall at your feet?"

"I wasn't serious, Megan!"

"Well, it's nothing to get upset about. It was just a holonovel."

"That's easy for you to say. You weren't the one named 'Ninny'!"

Megan shrugged. "That's true."

As the twins passed, a tall dark-haired man following behind them
said, "I rather liked the doctor's personal assistant."

The woman with him made an inelegant noise. "You would, Bristow.
What irks me is that she still looks perfectly gorgeous even when
she's completely bald."

"I wonder how Seven would feel about the doctor making her bald?"
a second young man asked.

"Mulcahey, that wasn't Seven," Bristow replied. "That was a
Deltan named Debin. Right, Sue?"

Sue rolled her eyes. "Sure. And that wasn't me being nearly
incinerated by the warp core implosion, that was Lu Suspagetti, a
Coridani who happens to look just like me."

"Hey, at least you weren't a Cardassian, like Freddie," Mulcahey
said, smirking at Bristow.

"Or a Romulan, like Shaun," Bristow added, smirking back at
Mulcahey.

"I think I made a splendid Romulan," Mulcahey said.

"Oh, you make a real menacing Romulan, Shaun," Sue said.

"Hey, if the captain can be a soft-hearted Betazoid, I can be a--
ouch!" Mulcahey glared at Sue and rubbed his arm.

Another group exited the holodeck, and Lizaat recognized them as
others she'd been introduced to by Commander Tuvok.

"All I did was constantly get hurt," Lieutenant Kim groused. "I
spent half of the holonovel in Sickbay."

"With a name like Derry Whim, what did you expect?" asked
Lieutenant Paris. "Besides, look at my character. Don London was
possessed by an alien tricorder and ended up in a wrestling match
with the captain for control of the ship."

"Until the ESH broke the tricorder code and you started reciting
the ship's coordinates over and over." Lieutenant Torres grinned
and patted her husband's arm. "Don't worry, you looked cute
staring vacantly into space."

Paris smirked. "And you looked cute trying to figure out if that
big blue thing in the middle of Engineering was the warp core."

Though that was an exaggeration, Torres' eyes narrowed menacingly
on her husband.

"At least you were only incompetent," Neelix said to her, though
Torres didn't look mollified. "The doctor made me a Ferengi." The
ship's cook had greeted Lizaat effusively before the holonovel
premiere, but now he looked less than jovial. "Doesn't he know
that Ferengi are much shorter than Talaxians?"

Kim shook his head. "We're a bunch of buffoons, while the doctor,
or EH, or whatever is perfect."

"It's just a holonovel," Paris said. "You know the Doc. He's
always feeding his ego."

"At our expense," Kim complained.

"Lizaat, did you enjoy the doctor's holonovel?" the captain asked
as she and Commander Chakotay approached.

"I found the doctor's creative endeavor quite brilliant,
Captain."

The captain's eyebrows rose. "I see. The doctor's work can be
somewhat...self-congratulatory."

Lizaat assumed the captain meant the words literally. She'd noted
that the crew always referred to their emergency hologram as
"doctor." Odd, but she respected their custom. "Indeed, the
doctor should celebrate his versatility and higher nature. You
must hold him in very great esteem."

The captain remained speechless for several moments, and
Commander Chakotay made a noise, then cleared his throat.
"Uh...umm, yes, of course," the captain finally murmured, turning
her attention to the others.

"It's pretty obvious the doctor used the real crew as his model,"
Kim was saying to Paris. "Except for a few cosmetic and species
alterations, they were us."

Though Lizaat had figured that out already, it was clear that
some of the crew felt embarrassed by their inferiority, which was
understandable.

Torres was shaking her head. "I wonder what people will think in
the Alpha quadrant?"

"They'll know it's just a holonovel," Commander Chakotay said.
"Our mission logs are public knowledge. The difference between
fiction and reality is pretty obvious."

Torres snorted and Kim muttered, "I wouldn't be so sure."

"I don't think the doctor completely realized he was satirizing
us."

Kim gave Paris an accusing look. "But you did."

"Geez, Harry don't start--"

"You shouldn't complain, Harry," Neelix said. "On the Valorous
the chief engineer chose to marry the operations officer."

Kim grinned. "She did show exceptionally good taste."

Torres snickered, then met her husband's annoyed look and
shrugged. "If you would have let me rewire the holodeck before
the holonovel started--" She stopped as the baby who'd been
sleeping peacefully stirred and whimpered against her shoulder.
Paris carefully tucked in a corner of the blanket wrapped around
his daughter.

"Don't worry, she's still asleep," Harry Kim said, while everyone
smiled at the baby, who slept on unaware of the attention focused
on her.

Lizaat noted that the holonovel was immediately forgotten for the
moment. She'd observed several other crewmembers showing uncommon
interest and delight in this infant. She saw nothing unusual
about the child to engender such attention. Though Miral was the
offspring of Lieutenants Paris and Torres, the rest of the crew
seemed to believe she also belonged to them in some manner. It
was a puzzling mindset. On Shaal'ra babies and children were well
cared for and conscientiously trained by their parents, but they
were not given any special status. They were simply the immature
bodies of their emerging identities.

"Hello, Doctor," Commander Chakotay said, alerting Lizaat to the
doctor's approach. "Your holonovel was quite entertaining."

"Thank you, Commander," the doctor said. Despite the praise,
Lizaat noted the doctor seemed quite dispirited. "It seems to be
underappreciated by some of the crew."

"That's because it was about us and it wasn't very--ow!" Kim
glared at Paris, who'd jabbed him with an elbow.

"The characters did seem a little familiar," Neelix said.

"But there were a lot of funny moments," Chakotay added, earning
a frustrated look from Janeway.

"Indeed, humor always enhances a story and makes it more
accessible to the public," the doctor said. "But the true purpose
of my holonovel was to illustrate the value and versatility of
holograms."

"I found your story very enlightening Doctor," Lizaat said. "No
doubt all those who view it will recognize the great worth of
your kind."

The doctor looked at her with appreciation. "Thank you, Lizaat.
You are obviously very perceptive."

The captain sighed. "Though I understand your desire to provide
public edification, perhaps there are other--"

"It's a moot point, Captain," the doctor interjected. "The public
will not be seeing my holonovel, since my publisher has rejected
it."

"Rejected it?" Tom Paris sounded disbelieving.

"That's a shame," Kim said, though he did not look unhappy at the
news.

"It seems that I cannot sign a legal contract, since as a
hologram I am not considered a 'person' under Federation law."

The doctor's bitter words made no sense to Lizaat. Perhaps the
refusal stemmed from the fact that the doctor was many "persons"
instead of one "person." Such literal interpretation was the mark
of an immature species, and her estimation of these aliens and
their Federation went down. She wanted to express her outrage,
but she knew it was not her place to condemn the value system of
these aliens. Deliin would certainly chastise her for such
interference.

The captain frowned. "I'm sure there are some exceptions,
Doctor."

The doctor shook his head. "I checked, and the law is
unequivocal. After this presentation my holonovel will be have no
future except to gather dust, colloquially speaking." He sighed
heavily. "I suppose I should be used to this kind of treatment by
now. Goodnight."

"Doctor..." The captain frowned as the doctor walked away with
his shoulders set in a dejected slump. "The law is wrong."

"I thought you'd be happy to see the doctor's holonovel die a
quick death," Chakotay said.

"I may not be a big fan of the doctor's literary venture,
Commander, but I will champion his right to create and distribute
his work." The captain turned and walked away, with Chakotay by
her side.

"The captain will support the doctor's rights?" Lizaat asked. She
would have to revise her opinion of these aliens again. At least
the ones on this ship.

"When Captain Janeway takes on a fight, she doesn't back down,"
Paris said.

"And you don't mess with anyone on her crew if you know what's
good for you," Kim added.

"A colorful if accurate observation, Mister Kim," Commander Tuvok
said as he joined them. "Lizaat, this is Lieutenant Michael
Ayala. He will escort you for the next eight hours."

Lieutenant Ayala offered a hand. Metaar had reported this odd
custom, so Lizaat shook it. She recognized him as one of the
officers in the doctor's holonovel, Lieutenant Aloha, the
entertainment director who arranged pool parties in a holodeck
setting called "The Hula Zone." The holodeck within a holodeck
had been a masterful use of irony in her view.

"Where can I take you?" Ayala asked.

"I would like to return to my quarters for a short while," Lizaat
said.

"I've got to go too," Kim said. "Marla's shift is almost over,
and I promised I'd recap the doctor's holonovel for her. Wait
until she finds out she's a Lurian."

As Kim went one way, Ayala led Lizaat in another. She heard Tom
Paris say to the security chief, "Hey, Tuvok. How old are Vulcan
babies when they first start talking?"

"Four months," Tuvok answered.

Lizaat heard the incredulity in Paris's voice as he said, "You're
kidding, right?"

"No. A Vulcan child who did not talk until eight point seven
months would be subjected to a full neurological examination to
determine the developmental deficit."

The conversation faded away as Lizaat followed Lieutenant Ayala
into the turbolift. Her thoughts returned to the doctor. She was
not the best one to handle this new information she had gathered,
but she had much information to relate. By her calculation the
"doctor" had at least eight separate identities, maybe more.

^*^*^*^*^

"Personal log, Stardate 55662.1, EMH reporting:

"The debut of my holonovel was a success, Though there were some
complaints about the similarities between the crew of the
Valorous and the crew of Voyager--similarities that are quite
understated--the audience remained riveted during the
presentation, and laughed frequently. It appears I have evolved
further in the application of humor than I had realized.

"The crew of Voyager is understandably burdened by cynicism due
to the many difficulties they've experienced in the Delta
quadrant. I'm certain the average citizen of the Federation would
even more eagerly embrace my novel, not only as the excellent
adventure it is, but as an introduction to a fascinating lifeform
many have until now rarely encountered.

"That's why this is so frustrating! To be offering the public
this chance to understand the true nature of a hologram--as
intelligent, resourceful, caring and courageous as any other
sentient being--and to be denied that opportunity simply because
I *am* a hologram--"

"Excuse me, Doctor."

The doctor looked up to find the Shaal'ra envoy standing in his
office doorway. This time she was wearing a simple royal blue
jumpsuit, and her hair was pulled back into a long, neat braid.
She obviously wasn't Lizaat, and probably not the security
officer, Metaar...

"I am Deliin," she said, saving the doctor from searching further
for a way to address her.

"Deliin," the doctor repeated. "Welcome to Sickbay."

"Thank you. Am I disturbing you?"

"Not at all. Computer, pause log." He'd been prepared to complain
about his fate for quite a bit longer, but seeing Deliin reminded
him again of the unusual nature of the Shaal'ra. Normally he
would have jumped at the opportunity to find out all he could
about the physiology of such a unique species, if he hadn't been
obsessed with his holonovel, which it turned out had been a
complete waste of his time--

"I hoped to find you here, since you do not sleep. I am pleased
that I was correct."

He did shut himself down sometimes, but the doctor was glad he'd
decided not to tonight. "Do you require medical attention?"

"No. I was touring your science and medical labs. I thought we
might have a conversation."

A hundred questions he'd like to ask her popped into the doctor's
mind. He smiled cordially, forgetting his holonovel woes for the
moment. "I'd be delighted." Then he noticed Lieutenant Ayala
standing by the door. "Mister Ayala, why don't you go get some
coffee or something and leave Deliin here for a while. I'll take
responsibility for her."

Ayala looked uncertain for a moment, then he nodded. "I'll be
outside Sickbay when you're ready to go, Deliin."

"Please, sit," the doctor said as Ayala left. "You said you were
touring the science labs. Are you a science officer on the
Maruuk?"

"I'm not an officer," Deliin said. "The Maruuk is not primarily a
military vessel, though it does have a defensive force. The ship
is also a science facility, a hospital, a commerce center, and a
transport for a variety of groups traveling between the homeworld
and the outer colonies. I am a neurosurgeon."

Tuvok had said the Maruuk contained three thousand Shaal'ra.
Three thousand bodies anyway. "Do you mind if I ask you a few
questions about your people?" the doctor asked.

"Generally we do not share information with outsiders, but
considering your nature, I will answer what I can."

He wasn't sure what his nature had to do with it--perhaps because
he was a fellow doctor--but he accepted her consent gladly.
"There are a few species in the Federation who harbor symbionts.
In those cases, the mental processes of both host and symbiont
are integrated. From my brief observation of Metaar and Lizaat,
and now you, I've deduced that your identities are not integrated
at all, but completely separate."

"You are correct, Doctor. We are separate individuals. We each
have our own lives--our work, societal function, families--"

"Families?" the doctor repeated. He considered how such multiple-
consciousness beings would deal with sexual partnering and
reproduction.

"I have a husband and two children on the Maruuk," Deliin said.

"I see. Then Metaar and Lizaat also have a husband and two
children?" Who would share the same bodies, the doctor assumed.

Deliin confirmed his assumption. "Of course. As does Tineel. Our
husbands share one physical body, as do our children. That is
elementary for us, though the concept seems to be a difficult one
for single-identity beings."

The doctor didn't doubt that. "Do you mate based on chemical
bonding?"

Deliin looked surprised and pleased at his perception, though it
was the only method that made sense with multiple identities.
Mating would be more a matter of instinct rather than choice for
the Shaal'ra. "Yes, we do," she said. "I've heard that single-
identity beings do not bond in that manner."

"There is usually some chemical attraction involved, but it is
only one part of bonding, and quite variable. Humans for
instance, often go through several sexual relationships before
they find a partner who is fully compatible. Even then, the bond
they form may not be lifelong."

Deliin shook her head. "That seems complicated and time-
consuming. And very uncertain. I admit I find that aspect of
single-species behavior difficult to conceptualize."

"It is always difficult to conceptualize that with which you are
unfamiliar." But often rewarding, the doctor had found. "Still,
the Shaal'ra must have some experience with single-identity
species'." If for no other reason than that they proliferated in
the galaxy.

"We have. Over a century ago the Shaal'ra opened trade relations
with a single-identity species called the Trejemi. Unfortunately,
their single-identity nature kept them from devoting their
energies fully to any one craft or pursuit. Those we dealt with
were often unfocused, easily distracted, and inflexible when the
parameters of a negotiation were altered. This made negotiations
difficult, with the Shaal'ra easily able to take the advantage.
We have a strict ethical code, and after that experience, we
decided to keep ourselves more isolated."

"The Trejemi are only one species," the doctor pointed out. "The
hundreds of species that make up the Federation have sustained
that powerful alliance for centuries."

"I do not doubt your word, Doctor. However we have also found
that single-identity species are often in armed conflict with
each other, sometimes even amongst themselves. We have never
known war on our planet, and we do not wish to be drawn into the
conflicts of others."

"The Federation avoids conflict whenever possible, but sometimes
you do have to fight to exist." The doctor thought it might be a
good thing Shaal'ra space was far from Borg space, and from the
Dominion.

"We can defend ourselves if necessary," Deliin said. "Unlike
single-identity beings we have met, we are each very specialized.
Each identity is highly proficient at his or her role, and is
able to devote energy exclusively to achieving an objective, even
if that objective is the defense of our planet."

The doctor nodded. "Of course. Single-identity beings do often
take on several roles, but they can still be proficient at them.
Lieutenant Paris, for instance, is our chief pilot, and my best
medic. He also designed our Delta Flyer shuttle, is a decent
mechanic, and has some skill as a holoprogrammer. In the meantime
he is Harry Kim's best friend, our chief engineer's husband, and
now a father to a baby girl. Though he has only one identity, he
has a variety of aspects to his personality that take precedence
depending on which role he is playing."

Deliin shook her head. "It must be confusing and uncomfortable to
have one's identity so vaguely defined, and to have no solid
sense of purpose. One must also give less to each pursuit to
spread oneself so far."

"By focusing on only one pursuit Lieutenant Paris would miss out
on the other pursuits he enjoys. Diverse interests and a desire
to master a wide variety of activities are traits of many single-
identity species, and humans in particular." The doctor couldn't
imagine not having expanded his own programming to allow himself
interests beyond medicine.

Deliin looked perplexed. "Yet humans spend a long period of each
day sleeping, instead of using that time for these added
activities."

"Sleep is biologically necessary, however, mental processes do
not cease during sleep. Most single-identity species dream."

"Dream?"

The doctor realized the concept would be unknown to the Shaal'ra.
"They enter a altered state of consciousness where concepts and
scenarios, sometimes mundane, sometimes fantastical, are played
out in their minds. It is a way for their minds to clear the
clutter and regenerate. They often lapse into a similar state
during conscious periods too. That is called daydreaming, which
is a practice I have also taught myself by adding subroutines to
stimulate imagination."

"Imagination? You're referring to projecting mental images of
probable outcomes, or hypothesizing possible solutions to complex
problems?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, that is part of it. Humans also imagine
future moments, such as receiving an award for a task they
haven't yet completed, or what their child might be like when he
or she grows up. And they imagine unlikely or even unattainable
situations, such as seeing oneself as a great sea explorer who
saves a ship in distress, perhaps falling in love with a
beautiful woman onboard..."

"Then this 'daydreaming' serves no real purpose," Deliin stated.

"It can be frivolous, but it does serve a purpose. Besides being
enjoyable and reducing stress, it allows humans to mentally
explore their interests and potentials. It's also the basis of
much art and literature. My holonovel, for instance."

"I see," Deliin said. "Perhaps Lizaat would better understand the
concept. She told me about your holonovel."

"She *told* you?" The doctor's curiosity was piqued. The
identities in one body couldn't talk to each other face to face,
and he hadn't seen any evidence of telepathic communication. "How
do you communicate with the other identities in your body?"

"We record a log of our activities in a subdermal processor."

"Internally, via electric impulses from the brain?"

"Yes."

The doctor wondered how they had communicated in more primitive
times. Written notes to each other? Gossip passed by those around
them? Clues left in their shared dwellings? There was so much to
learn about such an unusual species--

"I accessed the log in the same manner to learn of Lizaat's
activities last night," Deliin said. "She was impressed by your
artistic talent, and the autobiographical nature of your
holonovel."

"I suppose some elements are autobiographical," the doctor
agreed. Certainly there were embellishments for the sake of
drama, but much of the emergency hologram's exploits were an
accurate projection of his real abilities.

"I believe you're being modest, Doctor. Like the Shaal'ra you
possess multiple identities, with each able to perform a role
with focused skill and efficiency."

"It's true I have continually added new subroutines to
incorporate news skills, but I don't think--"

"Though you are the EMH at this moment, your holomatrix also
contains the ECH, EEH, and half a dozen other identities or more,
according to Lizaat."

"I'm afraid Lizaat's understanding is incomplete," the doctor
said.

Deliin nodded. "Of course. We know very little about holograms.
We have used holographic imagery only for simple applications,
but you are clearly sentient. I assume you have a central
database that is shared by your various identities, as we have a
body and brain. You simply access each identity differently than
we do."

"I can access the pertinent subroutines to handle almost any
given situation," the doctor said. "But that doesn't change my
basic identity. I am still...well, *me*, for lack of a better
word. I recall everything I've done, whether I was accessing my
medical subroutines, my command subroutines, my interpersonal
subroutines or any other subroutine. Unlike the Shaal'ra, I just
have one self."

Deliin pressed her fingers together in a Vulcan-like gesture for
several moments before she spoke. "As a scientist I understand
that you are different from us, and from the crew you work with
on Voyager. You are a unique being. Perhaps you combine the best
of both, able to be one identity and multiple identities.
However, that distinction might best remain between the two of
us."

The doctor wasn't sure why she made that request, but he nodded.
"Would you like to see my holonovel?" he asked eagerly. "It would
give you a clearer understanding of my nature."

"Thank you for the offer, but I have no interest in artistic
productions. That is Lizaat's area."

The doctor was disappointed, but he supposed that made sense,
given each identity's specialization and limited periods of
awareness. They would have little or no time for outside
interests or leisure activities. It seemed unfortunate, though
the Shaal'ra wouldn't feel they were missing anything, any more
than Lieutenant Torres felt she was missing something by not
listening to opera.

Deliin stood. "I must return to my quarters, Doctor, but I thank
you for the conversation. It was illuminating. I do find those on
Voyager different in some ways from the depictions of the
Trejemi. Perhaps those differences are as meaningful as the
similarities."

"Perhaps they are," the doctor agreed. "It's only through close
contact and prolonged interaction that you can truly understand
another species. Or begin to understand."

Deliin's lips curved slightly. "I understand. Perhaps the
Shaal'ra have been quick to judge in the past, based on our
limited experience with single-identity species'. But I am a
scientist. I do not judge those on Voyager. We can each only be
true to our own nature, whether human, Shaal'ra, Trejemi, or
hologram."

The doctor nodded in agreement. If only some weren't punished for
their nature.

"Doctor..." Deliin's gaze on him was thoughtful. "Do you have a
subroutine adept in negotiating trade agreements?"

"Certainly," the doctor said. He'd never actually negotiated a
trade agreement, but he could easily access the necessary
knowledge. That was the another of the many advantages of a
hologram which so few in the universe seemed to appreciate.

"I believe Tineel will be stopping by to talk with you later
today."

"I look forward to it."

The doctor watched Deliin exit Sickbay, and sat back in his
chair, staring at the ceiling contemplatively. "Computer, resume
log."

"I just received a visit from one of the identities of the
Shaal'ra envoy. Her name is Deliin. She seems a true
representative of her species--intelligent, composed and focused.
We had a fascinating conversation. It is unfortunate Voyager is
being escorted at a deliberate distance from the Shaal'ra
homeworld. It would have been remarkable to meet more Shaal'ra,
and to observe their society. No doubt it is as peaceful and
well-organized as the individual lives of its citizens.

"Though it must be comforting to know one's exact role in
society, and to have such a strong sense of self, I'm not sure I
envy the Shaal'ra. Their lives appear to be very regimented. Most
single-identity beings experience uncertainty about their purpose
and goals, and often search for a sense of identity and belonging
not fully provided by biology--a process made more difficult for
someone of mixed heritage like Lieutenant Torres. Yet, I don't
believe anyone on Voyager would give up the ability to make their
own choices, right or wrong, for any amount of security.

"As for me, I find it curious that I started out much like the
Shaal'ra--strongly defined by my programming. I was a doctor,
with one purpose that never wavered. Then I began to expand my
own programming, and now I am more like humans, making my own
choices, some of which have undoubtedly been mistakes.

"Yet I am not human any more than I am Shaal'ra, and I don't wish
to be either. I like who I am, and what I am, and I deserve the
same respect and recognition as any other being. I not only
deserve it, I'm going to demand it.

"End log."

^*^*^*^*^

Act Three:

Neelix always arrived at the mess hall well before the beginning
of his shift, but today he was earlier than usual. Occasionally
one or two third shift crewmembers would be there taking a break,
and during ship alert and other high tension periods when shifts
overlapped the mess hall was the scene of activity at all hours.
But most of the time Neelix found himself alone, enjoying the
brief silence in his domain (and brief silence was as much as his
gregarious nature desired), and pondering what the day would
bring as he brewed coffee and prepared breakfast.

This morning he particularly looked forward to the familiar
surroundings of the mess hall and his kitchen. He'd had a
nightmare last night, inspired by the doctor's holonovel. He
dreamed he'd been turned into a real Ferengi, with horrid teeth,
giant ears and all, and no one on Voyager could figure out how to
change him back. He'd seen his reflection in a mirror and had
recoiled at the sight of the oversized bat staring back at him.
He shuddered now at the memory.

Neelix entered to find the lights dimmed and the room unoccupied,
and immediately noticed a strange, low-pitched sound. It wasn't
any of the sounds he was familiar with--the soft drone of the
engines that permeated the ship, the buzzing of the blender, or
his own voice humming a Talaxian tune as he sometimes did in the
early morning. Then he saw the blue glow of the force field.

The carpet cleaner, which he'd heard addressed by several names,
was busy scrubbing a section of carpet right next to the kitchen.
Two of its attached arms slithered like snakes along the edge of
the common wall. But what filled Neelix with dismay was the fact
that the shimmering force field was blocking the entryway to his
kitchen.

Neelix rarely woke up in a bad mood, but after his restless night
he'd felt almost grumpy as he'd dressed for the day. Generally he
could handle almost any situation without losing his temper.
Being barred from his own kitchen wasn't one of them.

"Computer, delete force field!"

"That action requires authorization from Commander Chakotay or
Ensign Jacob Ehsani."

Conveniently, Ensign Ehsani worked the third shift. Neelix
slapped his commbadge. "Ensign Ehsani, report to the Mess hall
immediately!"

It only took Ehsani two minutes to reach the Mess hall, during
which time Neelix watched the shiny green machine do its work
methodically, and very slowly, as if it were deliberately taking
its time allowing him access into his kitchen.

"Ensign, why is this thing in the here? According to the schedule
it was supposed to do the mess hall from 0200 to 0400." Neelix
had checked to make sure it wouldn't interfere with his cooking
routine.

"It was. But Hydroponics had a plant due to bloom early this
morning and they didn't want the carpet cleaner to inadvertently
suck up the spores, or something. So I moved Hydroponics on the
schedule, which pushed everything else a couple hours back. The
force field should be gone within ten minutes. Or maybe twenty,
since this area is heavily traveled."

"Twenty minutes?!" Neelix barked. Ehsani clearly didn't
understand the gravity of the situation. "The captain will expect
her coffee to be ready when she arrives! Delete the force field
so I can get into my kitchen!"

Ehsani looked a little taken aback at the outburst from the
generally good-natured Talaxian. "I, uh....I don't know if I
should do that without Commander Chakotay's permission."

"Why did the commander put you in charge if you have to get his
permission?" Neelix huffed.

"Well, it depends on the problem..."

"Mister Neelix. Ensign Ehsani. What *is* the problem?"

Both turned to see Tuvok studying them impassively. Tuvok was
always one of the earliest arrivals in the mess hall. Neelix was
often ready with a cup of his favorite blend of Vulcan tea. "I
need to get in my kitchen, and the carpet cleaner has erected a
force field across the entryway."

"You could always request site to site transport," Ehsani
suggested. "From the mess hall to the mess hall."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at Ehsani's grin. "Ensign, your
suggestion is a logical one. Computer, lock onto Mister Neelix
and transport him to ship coordinates five, fourteen, twenty-
two."

Neelix's mouth had dropped open and before he could close it he
was standing in his kitchen. Tuvok moved over to the serving
counter that was currently bisected by the force field, and
rested his hands on it. "There is a second logical solution,
Mister Neelix. You might have simply climbed over this clear
section of the counter."

"I was about to," Neelix mumbled. He hadn't actually thought of
it. That dream had obviously muddled his brain.

"Am I free to go now?" Ensign Ehsani asked. "I'm missing Morrow's
account of the doctor's holonovel debut last night. I heard it
was pretty funny."

"You may go, Ensign," Tuvok said.

"I don't guess you found the holonovel funny, Mister Vulcan,"
Neelix said as he set the teapot to boil. "You must have been
insulted that T'Ubark was so incompetent."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "I am not T'Ubark."

Neelix wondered if Tuvok hadn't noticed the obvious resemblance
he bore to the sullen Klingon in the doctor's story, despite the
latter's forehead ridges and sharp teeth. Why, T'Ubark even had a
wife and four warrior children waiting at home for him. "So you
don't think the doctor was writing about us?"

"The doctor displayed limited creativity in his
characterizations, however the physical similarities are
irrelevant. Given the unlikely events and characters in the
holonovel, there is no difficulty distinguishing it as fiction--
frivolous and insignificant fiction--rather than a biographical
account."

Neelix pondered that for a moment as he steeped the tea. "I
suppose you're right."

"Right about what?" Sarexa asked as she joined them.

Neelix smiled warmly at her. She was another who sometimes showed
up quite early in the mess hall. They often enjoyed a lively
discussion before the first shift began arriving for breakfast.
"We were talking about the doctor's holonovel."

"I really wanted to see it," Sarexa said, sounding genuinely
disappointed. "I haven't heard much about it yet, except that the
doctor apparently borrowed his characters from the crew, and that
it was 'farcical,' as Sam Wildman put it."

"I guess you could call it that," Neelix agreed. He handed Tuvok
his cup of tea. "Vulcan herb tea, Sarexa?"

"Please," Sarexa said as Tuvok nodded to them both, then headed
for a table at the far side of the mess hall so he could review
his morning security reports. Much as Neelix liked to engage the
reticent Vulcan in conversation, he always respected Tuvok's
morning ritual.

"So, is it true the doctor can't publish his novel because he's a
hologram?" Sarexa asked as Neelix poured her a cup of tea.

"That's what the doctor said. He isn't considered a 'person' by
the Federation."

"That seems very unfair."

"You haven't seen the holonovel yet," Neelix joked, though he
felt a twinge of sympathy for the doctor.

"That's beside the point. However good or bad the doctor's
writing may be, there shouldn't be any question about his right
to publish his work. He's as much a person as anyone on Voyager."

Neelix couldn't deny that. "You're right. I guess it really is
unfair."

"It shouldn't be allowed." Sarexa looked at Neelix closely as she
took a sip of tea. "There must be something we can do about it,
if the captain can't."

Neelix pulled out a large pot. "I don't know what we could do."

"We'll both think about it," Sarexa suggested. "In the meantime,
tell me about the doctor's holoprogram. Was I in it?"

"Everyone was in it. You were a Berengarian, from a colony world
in the Federation."

"A Berengarian? I don't think I've read about them. Did my
character do anything embarrassing?"

"I don't recall you doing anything to endanger the ship, but you
did annoy the captain once when you had some trouble keeping your
dragon in your quarters."

Sarexa's eyes widened. "I had a dragon?" She leaned her arms on
the counter. "Tell me more."

As Neelix prepared a breakfast of honey-sweetened oatmeal and the
last of the Kesilian redfruit, he told Sarexa the whole story. He
didn't notice the force field vanish or the carpet cleaner depart
the mess hall. He did realize as he talked and Sarexa laughed
that perhaps the doctor's holonovel did have some merit after
all.

^*^*^*^*^

Janeway sat behind her desk and looked curiously at the latest
Shaal'ra identity, Tineel, who had appeared on the bridge with
Lieutenant Rollins a few minutes earlier to request a private
meeting. She waited for Tineel to sit before asking, "How can I
help you?"

"I may be able to help you, Captain. There may be a way to
accommodate your request for a trade negotiation."

Tineel's words were the last ones Janeway expected to hear. She
had been convinced the Shaal'ra decision was final, and she'd
elected not to push the issue. It was enough the Shaal'ra had
agreed to let Voyager cross their space, and that they were a
peaceful and agreeable species, if a reserved one. The four
identities who were on Voyager had thus far been polite and well
behaved. The Shaal'ra had every right to their chosen isolation,
and her crew would survive a limited diet and supplements until
fresh food supplies could be replenished after their next jump.

Janeway studied the Shaal'ra political analyst, who was dressed
in charcoal gray pants and jacket, her dark hair gathered into a
braid and looped once around her head. She wondered again if the
hairstyles connoted position or status. "I was led to believe
that arranging a trade was not a possibility, Tineel, but I
welcome any change of heart on the part of the Shaal'ra."

"I have to make the proposal first, Captain, but I believe when
these new facts are known, the Supreme Council will allow the
Maruuk's traders to enter negotiations with your emergency trader
hologram."

"Emergency trader--you mean the doctor?"

"That is one of his identities," Tineel replied. "He assured
Deliin that he also has a very capable trader, along with the
several other identities he revealed in his autobiography."

Autobiography? Janeway realized Tineel had to be talking about
the doctor's holonovel. Lizaat had been present at the premiere,
and had obviously had taken fiction for fact. Her first instinct
was to groan, then to correct the misinterpretation, but she also
immediately saw the implication.

"Tineel, I'm afraid the doctor's holonovel wasn't completely
factual--" Janeway paused. She didn't want to lie, but she didn't
want to squander this opportunity either. "That is, in writing an
autobiography one often dramatizes certain aspects to increase
its appeal to the audience."

"I admit I have no knowledge of such dramatic compositions, but I
assume the basic representation is accurate. Your emergency
hologram possesses nearly a dozen identities, from doctor to
engineer to command hologram, which he calls 'subroutines.' I am