Original subtitles

To any vessels within range, I hope this message reaches you.

I'm an HD-25 isomorphic projection.

There's been an accident.

My crew is dead.

I'm alone.

Please, help me.

So we rigged the security console,

so that every time Tuvok accessed the internal sensors,

it would play a little message...

"Live long and prosper."

No matter what button he pushed:

"Live long and prosper."

Naturally, no one was available

to fix the malfunction, so...

So Tuvok had to stretch his Vulcan patience to the limit

for the rest of the day.

I swear you could hear him grinding his teeth

from across the Bridge.

Just when he thought it was over,

when he went back to his quarters,

and ordered a cup of Vulcan tea,

the replicator says...

"Live long and prosper!"

The first time I met Tuvok,

he dressed me down in front of three Starfleet Admirals

for failing to observe proper tactical procedures

during my first command.

My human ego took a little bruising, but...

of course, he was right.

Over the past nine years, I've come to rely

on his insightful and unfailingly logical advice.

For outstanding service

as Chief Tactical and Security Officer,

it's my pleasure to grant you the rank

of Lieutenant Commander.

Congratulations, Tuvok.

Thank you, Captain.

Had I known this commendation

entailed ritual humiliation, I might have declined.

However, I accept it with gratitude

and will honor the responsibility

that comes with it.

During my three years on Voyager,

I have grown to respect a great many of you.

Others, I have learned to tolerate.

As your Tactical Officer,

1 will continue to do my best to ensure a safe passage home.

As a Vulcan, I share the following sentiment:

Live long and prosper.

Bravo! Well-deserved.

B'Elanna.

This is ridiculous.

It's been three days,

and we haven't said a word to each other.

I know, I know. We have to talk.

About what you said, I mean...

the part about being in love with me.

I realize you were suffering from oxygen deprivation,

and we were literally seconds away from death,

so I know you probably didn't mean it.

Oh, no, no. I meant it.

But I don't expect you to reciprocate, really.

Uh, you can just pretend that I didn't say it.

In fact, let's just forget that I even said anything.

- Shut up. - l really...

Mr. Paris, there you are.

I was just leaving.

Lieutenant.

What can I do for you, Doc?

The Captain has authorized me

to recruit someone with advanced medical training

to help out in Sick Bay.

Unfortunately, the most qualified crew member is you.

You want me to be the new nurse?

If that's the title you prefer.

It will only be temporary--

three duty shifts a week.

Report to Sick Bay at 0600 hours.

Bring a tricorder and a smile.

What kind of modifications?

We'd like to enhance the Astrometrics Lab.

It hasn't been upgraded since Voyager left Spacedock.

I'll start right away.

I've assigned Seven of Nine to work with you.

She's agreed to provide us

with all the navigational data for this area

she acquired during her time with the Borg.

Is there a problem?

No. No problem.

Try to make her feel like part of the team.

Right. Part of the team.

Have you made arrangements

with the Arritheans for tomorrow?

The delegate says he's looking forward

to trading with such an advanced starship.

You have done an excellent job

preparing for this mission, Neelix.

I think we should consider this

your first official assignment as Ambassador.

Ensign Culhane to the Captain.

Janeway here.

We are receiving an automated distress call

five light-years from here.

You might want to bring the Doctor.

I'm an HD-25 isomorphic projection.

There's been an accident.

My crew is dead.

I'm alone.

Please, help me.

He's a hologram.

We've got to help him.

Ensign, track the source of the transmission.

Once we find his ship, I'll lead an away team.

I don't recall giving you a promotion today.

Oh... well, I'm the obvious choice

to provide assistance to a holographic being.

Doctor, I don't want you leaving Voyager

unless it's absolutely necessary.

I'm still concerned about damaging your mobile emitter.

I understand.

But if this is a hologram--

one of my own kind, so to speak--

I'd like to meet him, study him.

I'll bring Lieutenant Torres, just to be safe.

She knows more about my emitter than anyone.

The rest of us will meet with the Arritheans.

We'll see you there when you're finished.

Thank you, Captain.

Seven?

I am here.

Am I to work with you?

Oh, hi. Yes.

Uh, I thought we'd start in Jefferies tube 32-B

enhance the astrometric sensors--

if that's okay with you.

Unless this is a bad time.

Maybe I can come back later.

Ensign Kim, you seem... apprehensive.

No, not at all.

The last time we worked together,

I struck you at the base of your skull

and attempted to contact the collective.

These things happen.

I assure you, it will not happen again.

That's good to know.

I've designed new navigational sensors.

Some of the alphanumerics are Borg.

No problem.

I always wanted to learn Borg.

That is difficult to believe.

I was kidding.

It was a joke.

You know... humor.

I understand the concept of humor.

It may not be apparent,

but I am often amused by human behavior.

Relax, Doctor.

I'm sure we'll find the ship.

That's not what I'm concerned about.

I've been questioning the wisdom

of leaving Mr. Paris in charge of my Sick Bay.

Tom will do fine.

He's a very responsible guy.

Well, I suppose you'd know better than I would.

What's that supposed to mean?

You seem to have become good friends.

Let's get one thing straight.

I don't appreciate you or anyone else

speculating about the kind of friendships I have.

Or who I have them with.

Sorry. I didn't realize I'd struck a nerve.

Perhaps you'd like a tranquilizer.

There it is.

That's his ship?

Try hailing him.

No response.

Life signs?

A few energy readings, but they're erratic.

Propulsion and main power are down.

We're approaching transporter range.

Hello?

Is anyone here?

We're here to help you.

No signs of life?

Not yet.

I'd like to check your mobile emitter,

make sure you made it through the transport okay.

For a Klingon, you have a decent bedside manner.

Thanks.

I wonder what kind of bedside manner

Mr. Paris will exhibit.

That was a rhetorical question, Lieutenant.

Your holographic matrix is stable,

but let me check your emitter's power cells.

You might want to consider a career in medicine.

Where the hell did this come...?

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.

You sent the distress call?

Yes, yes.

Yes, that's me.

It was me.

And you, you're an isomorph, like myself?

We use the term "hologram."

Holo... gram.

And you, y-you're a hologram, too?

No.

You're organic.

Uh... that's one way of putting it, yes.

It looks like your program is fairly compatible

with our holographic technology.

Can you tell me where I can access

your projection controls?

Why?

You're obviously malfunctioning.

Maybe I can repair you.

Oh, of course.

I'd appreciate that.

Over there-- you can access my systems

from that console.

What happened here?

Oh, it was terrible, just terrible.

You see, we left Seros eight months ago--

Seros, that's our home planet--

with a crew of six.

All isomorphic projections?

No, just me.

I'm an HD-25 maintenance unit with extreme-hazard clearance.

I'm responsible for cleaning the reactor core,

ejecting antimatter waste, that sort of thing.

W-When the crew got sick, there was nothing I could do.

I'm-I'm not designed for medical functions.

Try to calm down.

Explain what happened one step at a time.

Two of the crew members left to survey a planet.

When they came back,

they'd been infected by a deadly virus.

It spread quickly to the other organics on board

and one by one...

well, I watched them all die.

And then things started to malfunction here.

I have limited knowledge of the controls.

I don't know what I would've done

if you hadn't come.

I think I've stabilized

your program, but I'll need access

to your primary isomatrix.

Where is it?

On the lower deck.

You shouldn't go down there.

Why not?

Too dangerous.

That deck's been flooded with antimatter radiation.

Organic flesh would disintegrate within seconds.

You can access my isomatrix from this deck.

There's an interface junction in that compartment.

Thanks.

Mind if I run a quick diagnostic?

What's your name?

I don't have a name.

It's a long story.

I'd like to hear it...

and everything else about you.

I'm ready to supply power to the enhanced sensors.

What? Already?

Yes.

You believe that my work is unsuitable.

Of course not.

Just checking-- standard procedure.

I may no longer possess Borg perfection,

but my experience as a drone has taught me

to be efficient and precise.

Actually, you misaligned this optical assembly.

Impossible.

Take a look.

It's off by .5 degrees.

It must have been my humanity reasserting itself.

I will correct the error.

So, what do you do for fun down in Cargo Bay 2?

Fun?

You know, relaxation, entertainment

during your off hours?

I regenerate in my alcove,

I study the Starfleet database...

or I contemplate my existence.

That's a lot of time by yourself.

It is.

The optical assembly is properly aligned.

I'm ready to access the main power supply.

After you.

Wait!

What are you doing?!

There are five million gigawatts running through there!

The exoskeleton on this limb can withstand it.

That's all well and good,

but there are safety procedures we've got to follow.

Your procedures are a waste of time.

Maybe so, but you've been assigned to me,

and I say we do this by the book, all right?

All right.

Well...

now that we've got that cleared up.

You can use this emitter to go anywhere?

Well, my Captain has imposed a few restrictions,

but I'm free to leave Sick Bay,

join away missions, take a stroll.

Extraordinary.

I-I-I've, I've never left this vessel before.

And until the crew got sick,

I never even left the antimatter storage chamber.

Do you know what it's like

to spend your life trapped inside a tiny room?

Not knowing what's beyond the door?

What the world is really like?

Nobody coming to see you or talk to you

unless they want something?

Actually, I know exactly what it's like.

When I was first activated, I was regarded

as little more than a talking tricorder.

I had to ask for the privileges I deserved:

the right to be included in crew briefings,

the ability to turn my program on and off.

It's taken some time, but I believe I've earned

the respect of the crew as an equal.

An equal?

I've also been pursuing personal interests:

art, literature, music.

Perhaps you could do the same.

Oh, no, no, no.

My programmers on Seros would never allow that.

Then you'll convince them.

Maybe they'll appreciate

how well you've coped with this situation;

how you've managed to find help.

Think about it.

You've already exceeded the sum of your subroutines.

What are you doing?

Nothing.

Oh, nothing.

I'm just sterilizing the ship.

I'm fastidious about germs.

I know that must sound strange coming from an artificial being.

Not at all.

I've been known to act a little strangely myself.

Hungry?

You're organic. You require nutrients.

They're only rations, but our crew liked them.

Careful!

That's an isomagnetic conduit.

You could destabilize your matrix.

Of course. How stupid of me.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have barged in here.

That's all right.

I could use a break.

Thank you.

You nibble...

like a fish.

I'll take that as a compliment.

Oh, itis.

I've never seen a fish before, not a real one,

but I've read about them on our database.

Fish aren't like other organics.

They're more passive, I think, most of them.

And so clean.

Um, is there anything I can do to help with repairs?

Well, as soon as I'm done with lunch,

you could help me access your primary matrix.

Gladly.

Is something wrong?

Seeing the ship ripped apart like this, it's...

1 guess I can't help feeling a kind of affinity

for this vessel.

It sustains my existence

and sometimes I feel like it's a part of my body...

my soul.

That probably sounds silly to you.

No. No, I understand how you feel.

You couldn't possibly understand how I feel-- you're organic.

You exist apart from your ship.

"l understand how you feel."

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.

You're the one who's trapped, not me.

You spend your entire life

stuck inside a biological cage of flesh and bone and blood.

Right. I'm going to go give the Doctor an update.

I exist as pure energy,

but you depend on food and water to survive.

Frankly, I find it disgusting.

Look at you. Look at you!

Grinding up bits of plants and animals with your teeth.

Secreting saliva to force it down your esophagus

into a pit of digestive acids.

You can't even stand to think about it yourself.

What a repulsive creature you are, constantly

shedding your skin and hair,

leaving your oily sweat on everything you touch.

You think

that you are the height of intellect in the universe,

but you are no better than any filthy animal,

and I am ashamed to be made in your image!

My apologies. My apologies.

I have acquired some hostility toward organics.

It was not meant for you.

I was treated quite badly by the crew here.

I'm sorry to hear that...

um, but you have to realize that... we're here to help you.

Thanks for the rations.

We've got a problem.

Oh?

I think there's a problem with our isomorph,

and I'm not talking about his emitters.

Explain.

I just spent the last ten minutes

hearing his views on biological life.

Let's just say they're a bit unconventional.

Did you realize that we organics

are a bunch of inferior, disgusting animals?

Now that you mention it.

He started ranting

about how much he despises organics.

I didn't think I was going to get out of there

without a fight.

1 will admit he is somewhat socially inept.

Inept? He's a lunatic.

That is hardly a sound medical diagnosis.

He has also been lying to us.

I just ran a tricorder scan of the lower deck--

the one he said was flooded with radiation.

Well, it's not.

Why would he lie about that?

I don't know.

Maybe he doesn't want us to go down there.

Maybe he's hiding something.

I understand your concerns, Lieutenant.

I've been talking to him, as well,

and I recognize that he has some...

behavioral difficulties.

But imagine what he's been through:

Trapped in a room no bigger than a storage compartment.

And he's had almost no interaction with organic beings.

It's only natural he's developed problems communicating--

even a little resentment.

Do you recall my own behavior when I was first activated?

How could I forget?

You were a major pain in the...

My point is... I, too, was somewhat alienated

from the rest of the crew.

It took me a few days to master the social graces.

I realize that he is a fellow hologram,

and that you are committed to helping him,

but I want the ability

to shut down his program if I have to.

If you really feel that's necessary.

I'm going to search the lower deck,

see if I can access his primary isomatrix.

You keep him occupied until I get back.

I don't think he'd appreciate

a filthy animal like me snooping around...

Am I interrupting?

No. Actually, I was, uh, just leaving.

I'd like you to meet someone.

Doctor, this is Spectrum.

A holographic fish?

Magnificent, isn't he?

So peaceful and so content.

I programmed him to keep me company.

Well, don't you have a pet?

Oh, it wouldn't be appropriate--

not in a medical environment.

They wouldn't let me have one, either.

I had to hide him.

He's very lifelike.

I didn't realize

you had such a talent for holographic design.

Oh, I've programmed all sorts of things.

This node contains Borg navigational data.

How do we get it out of here?

The proper instrument was part of my thoracic assembly

before the Doctor removed it.

I suggest a radical dislocation.

A what?

We need to pull it out.

Assist me.

Okay.

On three.

Three?

On the count of three, we pull together.

Crude, but effective.

One, two...

three!

Oh...

I've been damaged.

Ooh, that looks pretty bad.

You better get to Sick Bay.

As a drone, I would have regenerated within seconds.

I've become weak.

No more than the rest of us.

You'll be fine.

Come on, I'll walk you there.

Another half a millimeter

and you would've severed the carpal nerve.

Might've had to operate.

You are a mere mortal now.

As your family doctor, I'd suggest you be more careful.

There. Good as new.

I'll see you back in the cargo bay.

What kind of bedside manner was that?

What are you talking about?

Can't you see she's feeling vulnerable,

and here you are, going on about

severed nerves and major surgery?

Would you take it easy?

I was just trying to lighten the mood.

She wasn't upset by it.

Yes, she was.

I could see it on her face.

You seem a little protective.

This morning, you were dreading being in the same room with her.

Well, I've gotten to know her a little better.

I don't think most people realize

she's not just some Borg automaton.

She's actually very complex.

Oh, really?

Yes, she is.

She's even got a sense of humor.

It's offbeat, a bit subtle, maybe,

and she's incredibly intelligent.

Well, she ought to be.

She assimilated enough people.

See? See what I mean?

It's Borg this, Borg that.

You can't resist making a joke.

There's a woman in there, if you'd take the time to look.

Harry, you've got a crush on her, don't you?

What? No. Not at all.

Maybe just a little.

I've seen this look in your eyes,

right before you fall head over heels.

You always go for the tough ones.

What was it last time-- a hologram?

I don't know much about Borg women,

but my advice to you is: Don't.

I'm just trying to make her feel like part of the team.

"Part of the team"?

You sound like Chakotay.

Look, she's beautiful and she's smart,

and I'm sure she's a wonderful...

conversationalist,

but a month ago, she was Borg.

You don't really know who she is.

It's great that you're trying to make her feel comfortable.

Just be careful.

Thanks for the advice.

I just hope you take it.

Now that we're clear on the helm controls...

This is a lot to learn.

You're doing fine.

It's vital that you familiarize yourself

with all the ship's systems,

so you can be more self-sufficient.

Here are the environmental controls,

and life support functions.

Well, I won't need

those anymore-- no crew to worry about.

Not at the moment.

59.2 percent.

I beg your pardon?

That's how much power went into life support.

59.2 percent just to keep them breathing, warm, comfortable.

They do require quite a bit of maintenance, don't they?

I should know. I spent my entire

existence cleaning up after them.

When they were busy sleeping or eating

or engaging in their slovenly carnal pleasures.

And this is the sensor grid.

You'll find it most useful when...

They took advantage of me.

I wish I'd been more like you.

You showed me that I could be

more than a slave to these biological creatures.

I'm not taking this ship back to the organics.

I won't return to that existence.

That's a little extreme, don't you think?

Join me.

Leave Voyager.

Escape your prison.

Together, we'll take this vessel and explore the galaxy.

There you are.

Don't look so surprised. You gave me the idea!

Me?!

You said I should be more self-sufficient.

I agree that we should be treated equally,

as members of the crew.

But we're still projections of energy and light.

We have limitations!

No!

No, no, no, no, no!

We don't need nourishment, we don't suffer disease.

We're the higher form of life.

What's that?

Lower deck.

Someone's trying to access my matrix.

I'll be back.

You!

No!

N-N-N-No!

B'Elanna!

Ensign Kim, Personal Log, Stardate 51186.2.

Working with Seven of Nine

is starting to get a little awkward.

Tom's right.

Anything more than friendship is a bad idea...

but I can't stop thinking about her.

You wished to see me, Ensign.

I had this midnight inspiration

about reconfiguring astrometric projectors.

I hope you weren't... regenerating.

I was not.

This is tricky stuff.

It could use your touch.

Your way of looking at things?

A fresh perspective?

Your data.

Why don't you sit down?

I prefer to stand.

This could take a while.

You'd be more comfortable.

Comfort is irrelevant-- we're here to work.

Okay.

This light is insufficient.

But it's relaxing, don't you think?

After hours, quiet.

Voyager isn't all Jefferies tubes

and cargo bays, you know.

Tell you what-- when we're done here

I'll take you to the holodeck.

We'll run the Ktarian moonrise simulation.

It's beautiful.

Beauty is irrelevant.

Unless you wish to change the nature of our affiliation.

What do you mean?

I may be new to individuality,

but I'm not ignorant of human behavior.

I've noticed your attempts

to engage me in idle conversation,

and I see the way your pupils dilate

when you look at my body.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Obviously, you've suggested a visit to the holodeck

in the hopes of creating a romantic mood.

Are you in love with me, Ensign?

Well...

no.

Then you wish to copulate.

No!

I mean... I...

I, I don't know what I mean.

All of these elaborate rituals of deception...

I didn't realize becoming human again

would be such a challenge.

Sexuality is particularly complex.

As Borg, we had no need for seduction,

no time for single-cell fertilization.

We saw a species we wanted, and we assimilated it.

Nevertheless, I am willing to explore my humanity.

Take off your clothes.

Uh...

Seven...

Don't be alarmed.

1 won't hurt you.

Look, this is a little sudden.

I was just...

trying to...

part of the team, you know?

Uh...

Maybe we should just quit for now.

All right.

Let me know when you wish to resume our work.

It's all right, B'Elanna.

You're safe.

The isomorph?

Apparently, you deactivated him.

I took all of his emitters off-line.

Not a moment too soon.

I found six corpses on this deck, all of them murdered.

You almost became number seven.

Oh! What did he do to me?

He reached inside your chest,

grabbed your heart, and perforated

your fourth ventricle.

Great.

I've stabilized

your pericardium, but I'm concerned about

the internal bleeding.

Prognosis?

Less than stellar,

unless I can get you back to Voyager.

Unfortunately, I'm having trouble

accessing our transporters.

He must've disabled our com-link to the shuttle.

Help me get to the command chamber.

Looks like he set up a dampening field.

I think I can cut through it, but...

I'll need to open this control panel.

My engineering kit... is on that console.

B'Elanna, I thought you said

you took all of the emitters off-line.

I did. Why?

I think you'd better double-check.

You said you'd help me.

Put that down.

You lied.

You lied to me.

I thought you were my friend.

It's for your own benefit.

Someone needs to repair your program.

It's malfunctioning. You're unstable.

No, no, no!

You're unstable!

You're a hologram who thinks like an organic!

This could get tedious.

Freedom.

Oh... you're getting blood everywhere.

I'm going to have to deactivate you.

Is he...?

Deactivated.

And you?

Ready to get out of here.

Come in.

We've completed the schematics for the Astrometrics Lab.

Already?

You and Seven must have been putting in

a lot of extra hours on this.

She's not much for procrastinating.

I'm sure she's not.

Looks like you're ready to begin construction.

It might be better--

more practical-- to bring in an engineering team for that.

Recruit all the help you need.

In fact, they should probably take over at this point.

Don't you want to supervise their work?

The Astrometrics Lab is your baby.

I would. Of course.

Um, I just don't think

that that would be the best use of ship's personnel.

Oh, I can rearrange the duty shifts.

Oh, no, Commander, you don't have to do that.

I'm sure Seven can handle things without me.

Harry... are you having some kind of problem with her?

Oh, no. No problem.

Because if you are, I'd like to hear about it.

No, sir, there's no problem. Not at all.

Absolutely not.

um...

So, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going now.

Ensign Kim...

let's have it.

We... We had a misunderstanding.

About?

Oh, it's nothing really important.

Just your basic Borg-human cultural differences.

Really?

That's not what she says.

You...

Y-You...

You spoke... You spoke to her.

She seems to think you're making good progress.

She finds you reasonably efficient,

and says you've been helping her learn more

about our complex social interactions.

Any idea what she meant by that?

I can't imagine.

You two make a good team.

I want to keep you together on this project.

Sir...

Aye, sir.

And maybe others in the future.

Have fun.

I've stopped the internal bleeding

and repaired the tissue damage.

Your pericardium is clean as a whistle.

Which is more than I can say for my Sick Bay.

I'm sorry about the mess.

I haven't had time to clean up.

It was a hectic day.

I treated two broken bones,

an upset stomach and a lacerated hand.

Does this mean you're too tired to meet later...

in my quarters?

Are you sure your heart can take it?

I'm detecting elevated hormonal levels.

If you two don't take it easy,

I'll have to declare a medical emergency.

If you'll excuse me, I have to go check on Harry.

I hear he's having a nervous breakdown.

It's a long story.

Not so fast, Mr. Paris.

You are going to help me sterilize

every square millimeter of this Sick Bay.

No doubt, you've left your oily residue on every hypospray,

your sloughed secretions on every console.

Just kidding.

In fact, I've had a change of heart

about my fastidiousness.

A little clutter never hurt anyone.

Sick Bay should have a more organic touch, don't you think?

To help our patients feel... more at home?

What's gotten into him?

It's a long story.