Strange New Worlds IX

by Dean Wesley Smith

  From the tone of the general’s voice and the way he was acting, she realized that the Doctor’s mobile emitter had been recovered and activated. Quickly, she decided that her best chance for the Doctor to be able to care for her was to be completely honest.

  “The Doctor is the Emergency Medical Hologram on Voyager. He is a holographic computer program with a complete database of medical knowledge.” As the general’s expression took on a mixture of relief and intense worry, she added, “If you have activated his mobile emitter, no doubt you have found him quite insistent upon seeing me.” She allowed a small smile to cross her face, purposely trying to project an ironic tone into her tortured voice. “I suspect you have also discovered that he can be quite insufferable.”

  In a loud huff, General Antana said, “That he is.”

  “Your doctor?” Doctor Gretkora’s words squealed as he spoke. “A computer program? He’s a computer program? How is that possible?”

  The general’s eyes narrowed. “Because their technology is far more advanced than ours, Doctor, and that’s why I’m so concerned.”

  “You should not be.” Seven spoke as firmly as she could. “You have nothing to fear from my people. They will come for me, but they will be appreciative of the care you’ve given me.”

  The general scowled at her. “And why should I believe you?”

  “Because I have nothing to gain by lying, General.” Seven licked her lips and swallowed, aware that her throat was getting sore. “I have more to gain by being honest with you. The Doctor can assist me,” she glanced in Doctor Gretkora’s direction, her eyes apologizing for what she would say next, “even more than Doctor Gretkora can assist me.”

  General Antana looked uncertainly at her, his hands worrying along the line of his coat, absentmindedly smoothing the wrinkles. Finally, he turned to one of the guards behind him and nodded. As the guard left the room, the general turned back in her direction.

  “Tell me about the engines on the vessel we recovered.”

  “They are standard Federation warp engines.”

  General Antana frowned. “Warp?”

  “Warp is faster-than-light speed.”

  The general almost gawked at her. “On a ship that size?”

  “Yes.”

  The general muttered, more to himself than to her. “We’ve only managed a quarter light speed, but it’s taken a ship three times larger to house the engine.” He turned back to her. “How do you manage to protect the ship? What kind of heat shields do you use?”

  Seven swallowed heavily, trying to soothe her increasingly raw throat. “Warp-field coils form a subspace bubble around the ship to protect it.”

  For the first time, a glimmer of excitement came into the general’s eyes. “Our scientists theorized that was possible.” He stepped closer to the bed and rested his arm on the bed railing. “How are you able to stabilize the antimatter converter?”

  Seven licked her lips, aware she had already adapted to timing her words to the rhythm of the autobreather. She opened her mouth but fell silent as she heard an indignant voice growing louder as its owner advanced down the hall. Her eyes slid toward the door as the Doctor entered, stopping so abruptly that the man behind him ran into him, bumping him into the room.

  But the Doctor did not seem to notice. She watched his face run through a myriad of human emotions so quickly that she doubted the others noticed. As her vision blurred, she saw him quickly pull his medical tricorder from his belt as he crossed to her, covering the distance from the door to her bed in three quick strides, his professional manner solidly in place as he took control.

  Pushing past an uncertain General Antana, he said, “Your ocular implant is obviously malfunctioning. Let’s see what else I have to repair.”

  The room fell completely silent as he worked, and she blinked to clear the tears from her eyes, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of relief at his presence. After a few moments, he lowered his tricorder and leaned over her bed, his stern expression changing into a gentle smile.

  “It is a serious injury, Seven, and it will take a while for you to recover from this, but you will recover.” He gave her a confident grin. “Lucky for you, you do have the finest doctor in the Delta Quadrant.” He stepped back, settling a steady stare on the man across the bed from him. “Actually, I should say you probably have the two finest doctors in the Delta Quadrant.” He cocked his head as he raised his chin. “You are her physician?”

  Doctor Gretkora nodded, his round eyes growing wider as he watched the Doctor work. “Yes. I’m Doctor Gretkora.”

  “Impressive work, Doctor Gretkora.” The Doctor’s eyes narrowed and he raised his tricorder to scan the doctor. His voice slightly amazed, he said, “Very impressive.” He moved to Gretkora, studying the results of the scan. “Microsurgical implantation of electrodes; neuronic-electro linkages; microelectronic gyro nodes.” He turned toward Seven. “You were in excellent hands, Seven. I shouldn’t have been so worried.”

  He quickly faced the general. “I am certain that Captain Janeway will want to express her deep appreciation for the excellent care you have provided us as soon as she arrives.”

  General Antana stiffened in surprise. “Arrives?”

  The Doctor shrugged, an almost smug grin coming into his face. “Of course, General. I sent a distress signal to Voyager as soon as I was activated.”

  “But, but, but…” The general stuttered. “Your every move was monitored! How did you send a distress signal?”

  “I’m a computer program, General Antana.” The Doctor puffed up proudly. “I multitask extremely well.”

  “A distress signal?” The general’s face reddened deeply and his voice started to rise in alarm. “Your ship will come looking for you based on a distress signal!”

  The Doctor raised his tricorder and casually reactivated it. “Don’t be concerned, General. We’ll be able to communicate with Captain Janeway before she powers up weapons.” He moved back to Seven’s bedside and gave her a wink. “But we won’t let her know it isn’t an emergency until she’s close. We don’t want her to take her time getting here, do we?”

  Seven felt the corners of her mouth turn up slightly at the same time she felt the tear slide down the side of her face.

  “Harrumph.” The Doctor grunted, a mock-gruff tone in his voice. “Let’s see if we can get that ocular implant adjusted.”

  Doctor Gretkora hovered inches from the Doctor’s elbow, watching every move the Doctor made and trying to anticipate his every need. The Doctor gave Seven a roll of his eyes, but she could see how much the Doctor was enjoying the man’s attention.

  When the Doctor finally deactivated his tricorder, Doctor Gretkora stretched out a finger and traced its shape, his finger held inches above its surface.

  “This device is amazing.”

  The Doctor chuckled. “Yes, it is.” He lifted Seven’s hand and worked her fingers, gently manipulating them. “Still nothing?”

  She mouthed a “no,” her throat now too sore to try to speak.

  Doctor Gretkora frowned. “You expected her to have regained feeling? Without surgery…or whatever it is you plan to do.”

  The Doctor’s eyebrow lifted sharply and he took a deep breath before answering. “Seven has…some unique healing capabilities. I adjusted her implants to stimulate…those capabilities in the hopes that some of her motor skills could be recovered,” he gave Seven a sympathetic look, “at least your ability to breathe on your own.” Shaking his head, he said, “I’m afraid the damage was too extensive. You’ll have to depend on the autobreather until Voyager arrives.”

  “But you will be able to fix her? Completely?” Doctor Gretkora looked intently at the Doctor.

  “Yes, Seven should have a complete recovery.”

  Doctor Gretkora raised his hand to run metal-covered fingers through his hair, causing purple lights to flash on the panel on his chest. Over the soft clicking caused by the up-and-down motion of his arm, he said, “How will
you do it? Fix her, uh, repair Seven, I mean.”

  Flexing Seven’s fingers again, the Doctor said, “I will harvest undifferentiated neural cells—”

  “Neural precursor cells!” Doctor Gretkora interjected.

  “Exactly!” The Doctor smiled, obviously pleased. “I will harvest neural precursor cells which I will culture carefully before injecting them into the injured area of her spine. Those cells will mature to rebuild the connections that Seven has lost. Since that process is slow, I will also genetically bioengineer cells that I will surgically implant using microsurgical techniques. I will be able to physically reconnect some connections.” He smiled. “We should do that first so Seven can start breathing on her own. It will take a few surgeries, but we’ll have her up and around before you know it.”

  “We? There are more like you on your ship?”

  The Doctor’s eyes twinkled. “I assure you, there is no one else like me on Voyager!” Laughing, he placed Seven’s hand on the bed, carefully straightening her fingers. “I was thinking you would assist me.”

  Doctor Gretkora’s mouth dropped. “Me? You want me to assist? On your ship?”

  “If you’re willing.” The Doctor pulled the blanket up on Seven and reached to push a stray hair from her eyes. “I don’t imagine Captain Janeway is going to be able to pass up General Antana’s invitation to visit after all your people have done for Seven, so there isn’t any reason why we can’t take advantage of that time to initiate repairs on our friend here.”

  Seven raised a questioning eyebrow, aware that, for the first time, there were no clicks coming from Doctor Gretkora. The Doctor simply winked at her.

  The Doctor carefully placed the object into the center of the table. “Okay, Seven. Let’s see if you can pick that up.”

  Seven set her mouth into a thin line and concentrated, her hand moving slowly across the surface of the table, inching toward the small block. A tiny bead of sweat formed on her forehead and trickled down the side of her face. Trembling fingers bumped against the block, pushing it farther away from her, but she managed to encircle the block and pull it into her hand. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her hand into the Doctor’s, allowing the block to drop into his palm. Exhausted, but exhilarated, she dropped her arm heavily onto the table and gave the Doctor a triumphant look.

  “Excellent, Seven!” The Doctor tossed the block into the air, grinning when Doctor Gretkora caught it, clicks echoing loudly in the sickbay.

  “A miracle!” Doctor Gretkora moved his hand in a circle, ending with his palm held upward, a motion Seven had learned was a sign of devotion. “A true miracle.”

  The Doctor lifted Seven’s leg and tapped her knee, watching as her foot moved slightly in response. “You are making better progress than I anticipated, Seven.”

  “It was to be expected.” Seven gave the two men in front of her a stern look. “I had two highly competent doctors. I would have accepted no less than perfection.”

  The Doctor howled in laughter and moved the tray table away from Seven’s bed. “I think we also managed to reconnect Seven with her warm and grateful personality.”

  Seven lowered her head as a small smile played at her mouth. “It was a joke.” She looked down at her hand and carefully moved her index finger. “But I do appreciate the effectiveness of your work.” She looked up at Doctor Gretkora. “The work of both of you.”

  Doctor Gretkora moved around to the end of the bed, grinning broadly. “I still can’t believe it worked. And that I was able to be a part of it.” He made the circling motion again, this time with both hands. “This has been a true gift.”

  The Doctor looked at her and she nodded her head. The Doctor reached for his tricorder and held it up as he started to scan Doctor Gretkora. “We might be able to arrange for another gift.”

  Gretkora gave him a puzzled look. “What?”

  The Doctor studied the screen on his tricorder. “Your own surgery. Based on your own research. It won’t be as complete as Seven’s, but you will regain a lot of your mobility, as well as the ability to breathe on your own.” At the man’s stunned look, the Doctor continued, “I’ve already asked Captain Janeway, and she said we could stay here long enough to get you on your feet. She said it was the least we could do after what you did for Seven.”

  “You can have your life back, Doctor Gretkora.” Seven spoke softly, her blue eyes holding the man intently in a focused stare.

  The man gawked at them, his expression blank.

  The Doctor gave him a small, understanding smile. “Maybe you’d like to think about it a little bit. But when you make up your mind, I can start the surgery immediately.”

  Seven maneuvered the wheelchair through the mess-hall doors and slowly rolled into the darkened room, stopping beside the man staring intently out of the large windows. She waited, the silence growing long. Finally, he started to speak.

  “Our prophets tell the story of Mannuse. He was a leader of our people during the time of the great hunger, a time when the lands of our old home had gone dry. The old home was in a valley surrounded by a large and dangerous mountain range. Mannuse knew that the only way our people could survive was to leave the old home, to challenge the mountain.

  “The people argued with Mannuse. They told him that he was trading one death for another. Mannuse knew that they spoke out of fear, but nothing he said could change their minds.

  “So Mannuse prayed, begging for guidance, begging for the gift of words that would change the minds and the hearts of his people. Kwolona, our Great Being, took pity on Mannuse and offered to give him wings to fly over the great mountains so that at least he could be delivered into the new paradise. Mannuse asked Kwolona what would happen to his people, and Kwolona told him that those without the heart to save themselves would die. Mannuse asked Kwolona to give him the wings so he would fly the others out of the valley, but Kwolona told him that the gift He would give Mannuse could be used only for Mannuse, that His gift could not be used to help those who would not help themselves.

  “Mannuse went back to his people and found one person willing to walk with him, and he led that one out of the valley and into paradise. Mannuse went back and found another one who would walk with him and he did it again and again and again. Each time he made the journey, Kwolona blessed his path, making it easier, leveling the path more and more. Finally, Mannuse walked all of his people out of the valley, the last of them walking with Mannuse on a path that was now cut flat through the heart of the mountain.

  “Mannuse saved our people and led them into the lands that we still call home today.” Doctor Gretkora slowly turned to face Seven. “He would not accept the gift that would have cost him his people, even wings that would have allowed him to fly.”

  Seven stared at him, cold filling her stomach as she realized what he was saying. “You are not going to have the surgery.”

  He shook his head.

  She paled even as her cheeks reddened and her eyes flashed in anger. Her voice taut, she said, “But your people have already abandoned you. Why would you give up the opportunity to have your body reconnected, to walk and feel again?”

  “The religious houses have turned their backs on me, Seven, but not all of the people. There are people who listen to me. People like General Antana, who risked his career by having me care for you. There are people I can still reach, people I can still help.” He held out his hands to her, palms out, the small knobs that encircled his fingers glittering in the dim light. “If I go back healed, I risk being a pariah to even those people.

  “Don’t you see, Seven, if I fly over the mountain, I leave it in the way of others. But if I wear it down, even with small steps, then one day, others will be able to walk the path with me.

  “This gift of Kwolona, of seeing you healed, of knowing that these dreams in my mind are not just dreams but truly possible,” his voice caught with his growing emotion, “this hope, it’s better than wings!”

  Seven blinked quickly, fighting to
regain her composure. Her voice cracking, she tried one more argument. “But if you allow the Doctor to repair you, you will never have to fear dying alone.”

  His lopsided grin slid quickly into place. “That’s the most beautiful thing, Seven. You see, all this time, when I thought Kwolona had abandoned me, He was actually there, talking to me. He gave me these ideas, these dreams.” He leaned down, placing his head close to hers, and whispered into her ear. “And I finally realized: I had nothing to fear because I was never really alone. And I never will be.”

  Unconventional Cures

  Russ Crossley

  He runs his tricorder over the still body of Naomi Wildman. Every time he’s done this over the past two hours the blinking readouts on the device worry him. He doesn’t like what he sees. She should be awake—but isn’t.

  The only sound in his sickbay is the beeps and whirrs of his medical tricorder. The still, sterile air seems to roar in his ears. Over the past two weeks, except for the odd pulled muscle or minor cold remedy, the crew hasn’t had much call for his services. Now this. This isn’t the kind of business he craves. And certainly not the sweet blond-haired, blue-eyed Naomi.

  Since being activated in the Delta Quadrant, he has demonstrated his ability to overcome his programming on many occasions. The crew has come to trust his abilities. This time, though, he’s stymied.

  If only he knew how far to go beyond that which his programming said was possible. Invention wasn’t his mother. He was the invention.

  Janeway is wearing a path in the carpeted deck of his sickbay. Her eyes flit to the little girl lying very still on the diagnostic bed. He feels her cool gaze on him. “Well, Doctor. What do I tell Ensign Wildman about her daughter?”

  Samantha Wildman is away from Voyager on a planetary survey mission with Tom and Harry in the Delta Flyer. They will be gone for another two days. Good thing, as far as he is concerned. All he needs right now is a hysterical mother to add to his problem. His bedside manners still need work.